ALEXANDER
“I failed you, Alexander,” she added.
Something about hearing those words from her felt strange.
Wrong, almost.
My mother swallowed once before continuing.
“I spent so many years convincing myself I was protecting you... preparing you,” she said quietly. “But somewhere along the line, I stopped being your mother first.”
I looked away briefly.
“I taught you how to survive,” she continued. “But I don’t think I taught you how to express yourself. How to fall apart properly. How to let people carry things with you. And I am sorry for that.”
Honestly, I didn’t even know what she expected me to say to that.
This entire night suddenly felt too emotional.
Too heavy... unnecessarily.
And right now, I genuinely could not afford to sink into any of it.
Not tonight.
Not when tom
