At home, Amelia noticed his downcast expression. "Dinner's ready, Evan," she called from the kitchen.
"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, retreating to his room.
Amelia paused, sensing his inner turmoil, and decided to leave him be. Sometimes, support wasn't about words but giving space to figure things out.
Evan had spent most of the day brooding in his room. School, group assignments, and Lyra's sharp words weighed heavily on him. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing the day would just end.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Evan… open the door, dear," came Amelia's gentle voice.
"I'm… sleeping," he muttered, burying his face in the pillow.
"Evan, please. I just want to check on you," she replied, calm but insistent.
With a reluctant sigh, he swung his legs over the bed and trudged to the door. Slowly, he opened it. Amelia was holding a tray: a cup of tea, a small plate with toast, and a few fruits. Her hair was loose from the day, soft strands brushing her forehead, and her eyes, warm but sharp, met his.
What is Mommy trying to do? he thought, his stomach twisting from a mix of confusion and tension.
"I… I didn't need you to—" he started, but she smiled and stepped inside before he could finish.
"I just thought you might be hungry. You've been skipping meals," she said, setting the tray down on his desk. "Even if you say you're fine, I can tell when something's off."
Evan hesitated, caught between gratitude and embarrassment. He slowly picked up the cup and sipped the tea, feeling the warmth calm him slightly but also making him hyper-aware of Amelia in the room.
She moved to sit on the edge of his bed, not too close, but close enough to keep him on edge. "You've seemed distant lately," she said softly. "Is it the classes? The assignments? Or… something else?"
"I… I'm fine," he muttered, looking down at his hands.
Amelia tilted her head, studying him. "Evan, it's okay not to be fine. You don't have to carry everything alone. I can help… if you let me."
Her words lingered in the air, heavy with concern. Evan felt a tight knot in his chest. He didn't want to admit how anxious and overwhelmed he was, yet every gesture she made — adjusting the tray, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, watching him sip his tea — made him painfully aware of how much he relied on her.
What is Mommy trying to do? he thought again, blinking rapidly to clear his mind.
Amelia leaned forward slightly, picking up a notebook from his desk. "Did you finish the group assignment notes?" she asked gently. "If not, maybe we can go over them together. Sometimes it helps to talk things out."
Evan froze, unsure whether to nod or protest. "I… I think I can manage," he said finally, though his voice wavered.
She smiled and ruffled his hair lightly. "I know you can, Evan. I just want to make sure you don't overwhelm yourself."
For the next few minutes, they sat in silence. He sipped his tea, she tidied a few papers, and the room seemed to shrink around him with unspoken tension. Every small gesture, every glance, made him feel simultaneously cared for and scrutinized.
Finally, Amelia stood, placing her hand briefly on his shoulder. "I'll leave you to rest now," she said. "But remember, I'm always here. Don't shut me out."
Evan watched her move toward the door, the tension in his chest slowly loosening but not disappearing. He sat back on the bed, reflecting on the day, on the expectations he felt, and on the subtle pressure his mother's concern brought.
What is Mommy trying to do? he thought one more time, shaking his head. Her intentions were simple — care and guidance — but the intensity of her presence left him tangled in a web of emotions he didn't fully understand.
Even as he finally relaxed slightly, Evan knew that facing his own anxieties, meeting Lyra's expectations, and living up to his mother's watchful care would require more courage than he'd ever imagined.