But sitting at this celebration dinner, watching him and Keira, I felt a growing sense of alienation.
He was so absorbed in his own success that he didn't notice the awkwardness I was enduring at the table.
Perhaps my silence made the atmosphere tense.
Finally, Grant spoke up, "Mom, that's enough. Let's just enjoy the evening; you don't need to worry about this."
His sudden defense caught Keira off guard, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"Grant, I raised you all by myself! And now that you have a girlfriend, you're talking back to your mother? How could you do this to me?"
Grant hurried to comfort her while Keira continued to recount the hardships she faced raising him alone.
I felt like an outsider at the table, stuck in a situation where I couldn't speak up or eat comfortably.
At least Grant had my back when it mattered, which was a small comfort.
But I still overestimated our relationship and my importance in his life.
After dinner, Grant drove Keira home while I returned to our rented apartment.
This was my place, conveniently located near my nail salon. I didn't spend much time at home, so Grant had moved in for a quieter study environment.
The apartment was filled with his belongings—his slippers carelessly tossed around, socks strewn across the couch, and dishes piled in the sink from the day before.
In the past, I had thought he was just overwhelmed with exam stress and that once it was over, he would change his ways. But I realized now that this was simply who he was. As a child, Keira had picked up after him; now, that role had fallen to me.
A wave of fatigue washed over me, and I couldn't help but envision what life would be like after we got married.
Will I become just another mother figure to him?
Is this really the life I wanted?
Grant had been celebrating his new job with friends for days as if he had already reached the pinnacle of success.
That night, he got completely wasted, and a few buddies dropped him off at my place.
He stumbled onto the couch, reeking of alcohol, mumbling to himself.
Just as I was about to whip up something to help him sober up, his phone lit up.
A text popped up: [My parents were pretty pleased with you the last time we met. Let's see where this goes.]
My heart sank like a lead balloon.
Grant's phone password was his birthday, so I quickly unlocked it and dove into the chat history.