After a moment of silence, you told her everything that had happened that day.
After listening, your mother took out a ladies' cigarette from her chest and started to smoke lightly.
"Mom, didn't you say that you quit smoking after you became pregnant with me? Why are you smoking again?"
She chuckled softly and said, "It's alright, he has agreed to let me smoke."
"He? Who?" You instinctively felt a shiver go through you when your mother mentioned that "he," noticing a flutter in her emotions.
Could it be her first love?
Could it be that you were about to witness a drama of "Heaven wants it to rain, and Mother wants to remarry" unfold upon you?
Recalling each moment of how your mother struggled to raise you (though you were left to your own devices most of the time), you sighed softly and said, "Mom, if you have found your own happiness, then chase after it. Your son has grown up now."
