She looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. I had never directly confronted her before. The reality of the situation seemed to dawn on her, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimpse of regret in her eyes. But she quickly masked it with her usual stern demeanor.

“You need to understand,” she replied, her voice losing some of its edge, “I only want the best for my son. I have high standards, and sometimes I feel like you’re not meeting them.”

“Your son loves me, and I love him,” I countered gently. “That should be enough. I may not fit your idea of perfection, but I make him happy. Isn’t that what you ultimately want for him?”