I worked abroad for 5 years to buy a house for my mom – As I returned, meeting my mom was not like I imagined.
The plan was simple: work, save, come back, surprise her with a small house where she wouldn’t have to worry about rent again.
I imagined tears of joy, long hugs, and relief finally settling into her shoulders.
As I came back home, I didn’t announce myself. I wanted to surprise her.
My mom stood at the sink, wearing the same floral apron she’d owned for years. Yet something was wrong. Her hands were trembling. Her shoulders were hunched, not with age alone, but with fear. I saw tears sliding down her face when she stared at nothing in particular.
“Mom,” I said softly.
She turned, startled, and her face filled with shock. Not happiness. Not relief. Fear.
“Oh God… Daniel,” she whispered.
I rushed forward, confused. “Mom, it’s me. I’m home.”
In stead of moving toward me, she grabbed the counter to steady herself, her breathing shallow. Her eyes darted past me toward the hallway, as if she was afraid someone else might hear.
“You weren’t supposed to come back like this,” she said, her voice shaking.
