There it is.
Not I hurt you. Not I understand why you left. Not even Are you safe? His first real grievance is that his mother feels embarrassed in the aftermath of an insult she delivered through him. The old version of you, the one still half-trained to translate his selfishness into stress, might have stared at that message for an hour trying to find the hidden vulnerability inside it. Now you just see the bones.
You type back exactly one line.
Your mother’s embarrassment is not my emergency.
Then you mute him.
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