Son stands by the window, arms folded, eyes distant, while Mother sits on the worn couch, her knitting needles motionless in her lap. "You haven’t said a word to me all evening. What’s troubling you, my dear?""It’s always the same, Mom. You never let me make my own choices. I’m not a child anymore."

Mother straightens her back, her voice trembling with both authority and anxiety. "I only want what’s best for you. You think I don’t understand, but I have lived through these choices before.""But they’re my choices to make! I need you to trust me—even if you don’t agree. I can’t keep living by your expectations."

Mother lowers her gaze, her fingers twisting the edge of her sweater. "When your father left, I promised myself I’d never let you get hurt. Maybe I’ve tried too hard to protect you. It’s just…hard to let go.""I know you care. But I have to face the world on my own terms. If I fail, at least it’ll be my lesson."

Mother reaches for her son’s hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I’m scared, but I’ll try. I just want you to be happy, even if it means letting go.""We’ll figure it out together. I need your support, not your control."

Son and Mother sit side by side on the couch, sharing quiet smiles. "Whatever you decide, I’ll be here. Not to shield you, but to cheer you on.""That’s all I ever wanted, Mom."

Son glances at his mother, gratitude softening his features. "Maybe today we can go for a walk—just talk, no arguments?""I’d like that very much."