“Mom, I can’t pick you up. I’m busy with errands for Camilla, and we have guests coming over. We’ll arrange another time for you to meet the baby,” Mark said over the phone.
Amelia hesitated, disappointment tightening her chest. Meeting her grandson for the first time wasn’t something she could simply postpone in her heart.
With no bus to Mark’s distant home and a taxi out of reach, she made a choice. Gripping her walker, clutching her purse, and carrying a bag of gifts, Amelia set out on foot. For five grueling hours, she pushed through pain and exhaustion, her love fueling every step.
At last, she reached Mark’s doorstep, her heart thudding with anticipation. She rang the bell. The door swung open—there stood her son, his face twisted in anger.
He seized her arm and hissed, “What are you doing here?”
“Surprise!” she gasped, breathless but hopeful. “I walked all this way to see my grandson!”
Mark’s words came sharp and cold: “I don’t care. Leave. Now.”
