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His hair stuck up in weird directions, and he’d started wearing the same shirt two days in a row because he was too tired to care.
When he finally muttered, “Mom, I can’t do this,” Janet just smiled.
By the end of that week, Luke had changed.
He was quieter, more thoughtful, and way too exhausted to argue about anything. On Janet’s last morning at our house, she packed her bag and turned to face him in the kitchen.
“I love you, Luke. You’re my son, and I’ll always love you.
But what you did was selfish and cruel. You left a woman who needed you more than she’s ever needed anyone. You left your child’s first moments for a weekend of drinking.
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