A wave of nausea hit me. I forced myself to smile, though my hands were shaking.
Dinner was torture.
The same jokes.
The same stories. My mother looked happier than she had been in years.
And that was the worst part. When he got up to get more wine, I followed him into the kitchen.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He looked at me, defeated. “I didn’t know she was your mother. I met her by chance.
I didn’t… I didn’t plan this.”
“You left me,” I snapped.
“No explanation. Just vanished.”
