Then, I heard it. A soft scrape, metal dragging across concrete. The sound was faint, almost like someone had been moving something heavy. It came from the side of the house.
Daniel’s eyes flickered nervously toward the sound. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “Just the wind.”
“The wind doesn’t drag chairs,” I replied, my suspicion growing. Before he could stop me, I stepped around him, heading toward the side yard where the noise had come from.
When I reached the garage door, I pushed it open, and the stale air hit me. A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows across a pile of boxes and old tools. But what caught my attention wasn’t the clutter—it was the sight of Ethan, sitting at a folding table in the back of the garage, a plastic bowl of food in front of him.
He looked so small, so fragile. His sweatshirt sleeves were too short, his cheeks hollowed out, a look I hadn’t seen in him before. It hit me like a ton of bricks. My grandson, eating canned spaghetti by himself, in a garage.
He looked up at me in surprise, and then his face softened. “Grandma?” he whispered, his voice tinged with relief.
My heart sank as I crossed the threshold. “Ethan… sweetheart, what are you doing out here?” I asked, my voice trembling with confusion and fear.
Ethan hesitated, his gaze flickering between the bowl and me. “Living,” he said quietly. “And eating. Mostly here.” His words were matter-of-fact, as if it was completely normal to be living in a garage at his age.
“How long have you been here?” I demanded, though my voice barely sounded like my own.
He didn’t seem surprised by the question. “Six months,” he replied simply.
Six months. My stomach turned.
I turned back to look at Daniel, who was standing in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes wide. He was holding something in his hand, something I hadn’t noticed before. A crumpled envelope, the bold red letters impossible to ignore. FINAL NOTICE.
“What… what is this, Daniel?” I demanded, my voice low but fierce. My hands were shaking as I looked at my son, a man I had known for his whole life—who I thought I knew.
