A crushing weight pressed against my chest, as if a giant hand were squeezing my heart.
I sat up and fished a cold, hard steamed bun from my cloth bag. Took a bite. Washed it down with tap water.
The dry lump stuck in my throat. I couldn't swallow.
My ancient brick of a phone buzzed, the ringtone harsh in the quiet room.
My son's maternal uncle.
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the button, before finally answering.
His voice oozed a warmth that had never been there before—forced, awkward.
"Asher! How goes it? You made it to the boy's place? Did you see him? The city's bustling, isn't it?"
Questions fired like a machine gun.
My throat tightened. I managed a noncommittal grunt.
Sensing my mood, he shifted tactics. His tone dropped, earnest now. Lecturing.
"Asher, look, I'm not saying you were wrong, but Joshua just called me. He told me about the… situation at the party."
A loud sigh crackled through the speaker.
"You have to understand. It was a massive occasion. Why did you just run over there without a heads-up? Joshua is a CEO now. He manages a huge corporation. Image is everything! You showing up like that… weren't you just making trouble for him?"