It’s often said that curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, it led me to something far greater—a desperate family in need and a life I never could have imagined for myself.
That crisp autumn morning started like any other. The air was cool against my skin as I stepped out to run a simple errand: picking up fresh rolls from the bakery for breakfast with my mother, Helen. It was our little tradition, a ritual that gave us comfort in our small but steady world.
Most people found it odd that a 30-year-old successful programmer still lived with his mother, but to me, it made perfect sense. My father had walked out on her when she was pregnant, and we had only ever had each other. She had sacrificed everything for me, so in return, I stayed, making sure she was never lonely.
Romance? Well, that was another story. I had never been particularly lucky in love. Lacking traditional good looks and the social skills to make up for it, I had long accepted my fate—focusing instead on my work and the comfort of my quiet life. See More Below
