Years later, I started nudging my mom to date again. She smiled like she didn’t need it, but her eyes told the truth. Then one day, she met someone. She sounded alive—hopeful in a way I hadn’t heard in years. She invited me to meet him. I brought a bottle of wine and my curiosity.

But when I walked in and saw him, my world tilted—Marcus. My ex. My mom froze. He stammered. I walked out before dinner was served. And love, once again, became complicated. She ended it the next day, quietly, sadly. And I still wonder if either of us will ever really find what we’re looking for.