As the days turned into weeks, the silence between us became a living thing, growing with each sunrise, weaving itself into the fabric of our lives. We moved around each other like ghosts, bound by blood but separated by an invisible wall erected from years of misunderstandings and unspoken grief.

My mind often wandered back to that day, replaying the scene in the gym like a broken record. I tried to decipher the look in his eyes—was it regret, anger, or something else entirely? I wondered if he saw my mother in me, her ambition, her strength, and if that reflection was too painful for him to bear.

At night, when the world was asleep, I found myself revisiting my mother’s memory, her laughter echoing in the quiet corners of my mind. She had been my biggest cheerleader, her belief in me unwavering even in the face of life’s harsh realities. With her gone, I felt adrift, a ship without a compass, trying to find my way back to shore.