Almost too neat.
Everything had a place.
There were work files stacked on one side of the table.
A laptop open beside two phones.
Laundry folded but not put away.
Three unopened envelopes.
The kind of details you don’t see during video calls.
I looked around.
“Where’s Kang Jun?”
Mary Lou hesitated.
“At work.”
Something in her voice caught my attention.
“When will he be home?”
“Late.”
We ordered food that evening.
Mary Lou apologized for not cooking.
I laughed.
“I flew across the world. I didn’t come for your cooking.”
She smiled.
But it didn’t reach her eyes.
That bothered me.
At first, our conversation stayed safe.
My flight.
The neighborhood.
My house.
People back home.
Then I asked:
“Are you happy?”
Mary Lou looked at me.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“I knew you’d do this.”
“Do what?”
“Arrive and immediately start analyzing my life.”
“I asked one question.”
She pushed food around her plate.
“I’m fine.”
There it was.
The same answer she’d been giving me for years.
Fine.
I waited.
Then said:
“You look exhausted.”
She laughed without humor.
“Everybody’s exhausted.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“This is different.”
Her eyes lifted.
I realized I was repeating almost exactly the kind of sentence mothers use when they know their children are hiding something.
Pregnancy & Maternity
Mary Lou looked away.
“Work’s been hard.”
“Only work?”
Silence.
“Mary Lou.”
Her eyes filled.
And suddenly the confident daughter I’d been watching through a screen disappeared.
Child Care
