“He’s avoiding us,” I said.
Robert sighed. “You’re overthinking it.”
But I wasn’t.
One afternoon, while Robert was at work, I called the university myself. I told them I needed to confirm Jason’s enrollment for a scholarship matter.
They asked for his student ID. I read it from one of the documents he had sent.
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “There’s no record of a student with that name or ID.”
My heart dropped.
“That’s not possible,” I said. “He’s been there for years.”
She checked again. The answer didn’t change.
Jason had never been enrolled.
I hung up, shaking, and called Robert immediately.
“He’s not there,” I whispered.
Robert didn’t believe it at first. But when he called and heard the same thing, everything went silent.
“We’re going there,” he said.
The drive to the campus felt endless. My thoughts spiraled—maybe he dropped out, maybe he was in trouble, maybe something worse.
But when we arrived, the truth was undeniable.
No enrollment. No payments. No records.
Everything he had sent us was fake.
The pain was overwhelming. We had trusted him completely.
“Where is he?” Robert asked.
We drove to the address he had given us.
He wasn’t there.
No one knew him.
That’s when I realized something terrifying.
We had no idea where our own son was living.
We spent hours searching—cafés, libraries, nearby buildings. Nothing.
Then we drove further out.
And that’s where we found him.
A rundown trailer park behind a gas station.
When he stepped outside, I barely recognized him. His clothes were worn, his face thinner, his expression tired.
“Mom? Dad?”
I stepped forward. “Jason… what is this?”
He looked away. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“We went to your university,” Robert said sharply. “You’re not enrolled. Where is the money?”
Jason’s shoulders dropped. “I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
“I dropped out after the first semester,” he said quietly.
The words hit hard.
“I couldn’t keep up,” he continued. “Everyone was better. I failed. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
Robert’s voice tightened. “So you lied for three years?”
“I thought I’d fix it,” Jason said. “But I couldn’t stop.”
“And the money?”
“Rent. Food. I lived in my car for a while. I was trying to survive.”
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