11. Confrontation

Somehow, the night passed, though it felt like an eternity to Jayden. The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, revealing a quiet house. Jayden’s mom emerged from her room, her hair loosely gathered in a bun, stifling a yawn as she shuffled toward the kitchen. She paused mid-step, startled to see Jayden already seated at the table. The aroma of fresh coffee and toast filled the air. “You made breakfast?” she asked, surprise lighting up her tired face. Jayden cut her off before she could say more, his voice weary but forced into a dull cheer. “I’ve been up all night,” he said with a sigh, the corners of his lips curling into a faint, hollow smile. His eyes, however, betrayed him—they were lifeless, dark with the weight of secrets. “Join me, Mom,” he offered quickly, standing to pull out a chair for her and setting a neatly arranged plate before her. She chuckled softly, reaching out to brush his cheek with a maternal tenderness. “Aren’t you just the best son? My sw