When my son sl:apped me for interrupting his video game, I just lowered my head and walked to the kitchen. I spent three hours baking his favorite triple-chocolate cake

years old. A room now overflowing with empty energy drink cans, expensive gaming monitors, and anger.

“I only came to tell you lunch was ready.”

He laughed once — sharp, cruel, ugly.

“Lunch? You think I’m five? Just get out.”

Behind him, his girlfriend Marissa sat cross-legged on his bed scrolling through her phone. She didn’t even flinch. She looked up,continue reading …