Complicated matters
“It’s more complicated than you think, Mom,” he repeated, his words hanging heavily in the air between us.
I searched his face for clues, trying to decipher the enigma he was presenting. ‘What do you mean, Michael?
’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling. ‘Just, please trust me, it’s not what it seems,’ he said, evading my desperate gaze.
