When my son told me his school was hosting a mother-and-son dinner, I didn’t hesitate.
I took time off work.
I bought a new outfit.
I wanted him to feel proud walking in with me.
Then, casually, he said,
“Dad said my stepmom is going instead.”
It felt like someone punched the air out of my chest.
Still, I went.
I told myself being present mattered.
All night, he avoided me.
Sat far away.
Barely spoke.
I smiled through it and left early, crying in my car.
That night, my ex called.
Before he said a word, I heard my son sobbing.
Through tears, my ex admitted the truth:
My son had been pressured to choose, told it would “look bad” if he sat with me.
He hadn’t ignored me because he didn’t love me.
He was confused. Scared. Torn.
I realized then that the pain I felt for one night was something my child was living with every day.
And from that moment on, I promised myself I’d never let him feel alone again.
