I Flew in to Surprise My Son for His Birthday, I Found Him Living in His Car With His Twins Instead!

The chill of the March wind sliced through the long-term parking lot at Toronto Pearson Airport with an almost clinical precision. It wasn’t dramatic—no snow or storm—just a quiet, biting cold that seeped under coats and settled deep into the bones. I pulled my collar higher and trudged between rows of cars. My body was heavy from the overnight flight, but my mind felt unusually sharp, that sort of clarity exhaustion sometimes brings.

I hadn’t told my son I was coming.

Michael was turning thirty-six, and I wanted the surprise to be simple. Breakfast. A laugh. A hug that would remind him that no matter his age or the messiness of life, he was still someone’s child.

I scanned the lot for his car.

Then I froze.

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