I turned to him and said, “Sure, what’s on your mind, honey?”

He leaned against the counter, arms folded. “I need a car.”I paused, taken aback. “A car? What happened to your part-time job? You were saving up for one.”

Michael let out an exasperated sigh. “I know, but it’s taking forever to save up, and I really need it now.”situation,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looked up, his expression defensive, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, threatening to leave if you don’t get what you want is not how adults handle things. It’s not fair to manipulate me like that,” I explained, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness.

He shrugged, “I’m just tired of waiting. Dad would understand.”
“Dad isn’t here, Michael. And buying you a car won’t solve everything. What about the expenses that come with it? Insurance, maintenance…” I trailed off, hoping he would understand.

He remained silent for a moment before pushing his plate away, “Forget it, Mom. You’ll never understand.”

As he left the table, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, wondering if I was being too harsh or if I was failing as a parent somehow.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension in the house only seemed to escalate. Michael became more distant, spending most of his time out with friends or locked up in his room.

One Saturday morning, I found a note on the kitchen counter:

“Mom, I’m going to stay with Dad for a while. I can’t stand being here anymore. Maybe he’ll understand me better.”

My heart sank as I read the words. I knew this day might come, but I never thought it would happen like this.

I immediately dialed Michael’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic started to rise within me as I tried to think of where David lived now. We hadn’t been in touch for years after the divorce.