“The coffee is watery,” she would say. “The eggs have too much salt.”

Never a thank you. Never an acknowledgement.

I just nodded, smiled, and tried again the next day.

I wanted to be useful. I wanted to be needed. I wanted to believe I still had a place in my son’s life.

Days turned into weeks. I cleaned, cooked, did the laundry. I became a shadow moving through the house, picking up crumbs, folding towels, tidying spaces no one else saw.

Dawn worked from home, always on important calls, always stressed. When something went wrong in her day, I was the easiest target.