My son phoned me on a calm afternoon, his voice gentler than I was used to.

He didn’t ask for anything or hurry through the conversation—he simply told me he loved me.

It took me by surprise. He had always been independent, the type of young man who managed everything on his own and seldom stopped to express emotions like that.

After the call ended, I remained there for a long while, going over his words again and again. There was something in his tone that lingered—not fear, not urgency, but something deeper. That evening, without giving it too much thought, I booked a flight.

I didn’t tell him I was coming.

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