“This is nice,” Emily said to her son, Dean, trying to start a conversation. But he barely looked up from his phone.
“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, glancing around. “Too bad we’re stuck near the bathroom—your wheelchair limits our options.”
Emily brushed off the remark and tried again. “It’s just good to be together. How’s college? Anything interesting going on?”
Dean sighed, indifferent. He rarely called since moving away, and this dinner only happened after Emily begged—and even promised him his late grandfather’s valuable watch.
As she reached for her water glass, it slipped from her hand and shattered. The noise caught everyone’s attention—including Dean’s.
“For God’s sake! You can’t even get through one dinner without causing a scene. I didn’t want to come—just leave me alone!” he snapped loudly, drawing even more eyes their way.
Emily began to cry and softly said, “Let’s go.”
“Great,” Dean huffed, getting up. But before they could leave, a man approached.
“Sit down,” he ordered firmly. Dean, surprised, obeyed.
“I heard your outburst,” the man said. “And I’ve learned this woman is your mother. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? My mom, who also had a disability, raised me alone. She gave me everything, and she never saw the man I became—the man who owns this restaurant and more. You have your mother right here. Cherish her.”
Dean lowered his head, ashamed. Emily watched as her son’s face crumbled and tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispered, before getting up to hug her tightly.
The man—Mr. Harris—smiled and walked away. “Food’s coming soon, and someone will clean up the glass.”
Dean wiped his face, put away his phone, and began to talk. “So… classes are good. Kinda boring.”
Emily smiled through her tears. The rest of dinner was filled with real conversation—and from that night on, Dean never took his mother for granted again.
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