The message on my screen felt simple at first—my mother had found someone who made her smile again. After years of quiet evenings and unspoken loneliness, I was genuinely happy for her. She mentioned his name only once, Aaron, and spoke of him with a warmth I hadn’t heard in years. I didn’t ask questions. I trusted her judgment, and more than anything, I respected her space. If she was ready to open her heart again, then I would support her, even from a distance.