The One I Seek

After the cameras shut down for the night, Man and Jes made their way to the production manager's apartment. The air smelled warm and inviting, a mix of home-cooked food and something nostalgic, like the kind of meals that came with quiet conversations and unspoken understanding.

She greeted them with a tired but genuine smile, ushering them inside. The table was already set—nothing extravagant, just a few simple dishes, but it felt different from the rushed meals they usually had on set. More personal.

Jes took a seat beside Man, leaning slightly into him as the manager poured them each a glass of water. "I appreciate you both coming," she said, her voice softer than usual. "It's been a while since I had company like this."

Man gave her a reassuring smile. "We're happy to be here."

Just as she was about to take her seat, there was a knock at the door. It was hesitant but firm, a sound that carried a weight none of them were expecting. The manager's face changed instantly—surprise flickering through her features, followed by something deeper, something unreadable.

She hesitated before stepping toward the door, inhaling sharply before opening it.

A young man stood there.

Jes immediately noticed the resemblance—the same sharp eyes, the same quiet intensity. But there was something else, too. A heaviness in the way he held himself, a tiredness that seemed bone deep.

"Mom." His voice was flat, carefully controlled.

The manager's breath hitched. "You—" She cut herself off, her hands gripping the edge of the door as if she needed to ground herself. "You're here."

The son's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering past her and landing on Man and Jes. For a second, something unreadable passed through his expression. Then, he exhaled, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

"I almost didn't come," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But I didn't know where else to go."

Jes exchanged a glance with Man, sensing the tension thickening the air. The manager looked overwhelmed—her son was here, standing before her after all these years, but something was wrong.

"I thought you were happy," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's what I heard."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "Happy?" He shook his head, eyes dark with something unreadable. "Yeah, I was. Until I wasn't."

Man straightened slightly, his instincts kicking in. Something about the way he said it—something about the way he wouldn't quite meet his mother's eyes—made his chest tighten.

The manager took a slow, careful step toward him. "What happened?"

Her son's fists clenched at his sides. "It turns out," he said, voice thick with something raw, "that the person I thought loved me..."

Jes's breath caught.

Man's stomach dropped.

And the room, once warm with the promise of an intimate dinner, suddenly felt suffocating.

The son's shoulders slumped, his hand gripping the edge of the counter as he took a shaky breath. "I—I didn't know how to deal with it," he muttered, his voice breaking as he finally looked up at his mother, his eyes raw with emotion. "The guy I was with... he wasn't just controlling. He hurt me, Mom. Mentally, emotionally—sometimes even physically. But I didn't know how to get out. I didn't know who to talk to, or how to make sense of it."

The words tumbled out, sharp and jagged, as if they had been locked away for far too long. He wiped at his face, trying to hold himself together, but the cracks were showing.