MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

The room was filled with a quiet stillness, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a distant clock.

Michael and Mitchelle sat together, the weight of year past hanging in the air like a veil.

Their conversation had turned, as it often did, toward their son, Anthony.

Despite the opulence of their surroundings, the comfort of their home, and the knowledge of their immense power, a subtle tension lingered between them.

Mitchelle's gaze, distant and pensive, remained fixed on the far horizon, her mind lingering on the absence that had pervaded her life.

For over a decade, she had been used to Anthony's presence, even when he was distant in his training or his journeys.

But now, it had been too long.

It had been nearly a year since they had last felt his presence, and the quiet gap between then and now weighed heavily on her.

"I can't feel him"

She murmured softly, the words carrying a quiet edge of frustration.

"Not even the faintest trace"

Michael, ever the stoic, looked at her but said nothing.

He knew she was speaking of their son, of the bond that had once existed between them.

A bond that seemed to have slipped away as Anthony continued his solitary path.

Mitchelle's fingers drummed softly on the armrest, a rhythm she unconsciously adopted whenever her mind was troubled.

"I've tried everything, Michael. Clairvoyance, divination, nothing. Not a whisper of his presence"

Michael's lips twitched slightly in an almost imperceptible smile.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms with an air of nonchalance that only came from years of experience in controlling his emotions.

"He's fine"

Michael said, his voice steady, though tinged with a quiet certainty.

"I have no doubt that wherever he is, whatever he's doing, he's fine. Anthony doesn't follow the path others expect of him"

Mitchelle's eyes flickered to him, a mix of skepticism and longing in her gaze.

"You say that, but it's been so long. Almost a whole year... and still, there's no sign of him"

Michael sighed, the weight of his own thoughts pressing in.

"You know better than anyone that he's never been one to adhere to the normal flow of things. He's a force unto himself, a power beyond comprehension. I'm sure he's busy cultivating, training, or perhaps delving into some new method of growth"

"But it's not like before"

Mitchelle countered, her voice tinged with a subtle sadness.

"Even when he was focused on his training, I could always feel him. His essence was always there, even if distant. Now, it's as if he's completely gone"

Michael's eyes softened for a moment as he looked at her.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

His expression, usually one of unshakable resolve, gave way to a flicker of concern, though it was swiftly replaced by the confidence that had defined him for years.

"Mitchelle"

He began, his tone firm yet gentle,

"You've always known Anthony's potential. He's not like other children, and he never has been. His power, his drive, is something beyond the understanding of even the greatest minds. When he feels it's necessary, he withdraws. He works in isolation, refining himself until he reaches a point no one thought possible"

Mitchelle's eyes dropped to the floor, as if the weight of his words pressed her down.

"I know"

She whispered.

"But I still miss him. There's something about knowing he's out there, somewhere, that feels... wrong"

"Wrong?"

Michael repeated, his voice laced with mild surprise.

"It's the way he's always been, though. From the moment he was born, Anthony has carved his own path. We've never been able to predict what he would do next, but we always knew it would be something extraordinary. That's who he is. That's why he's our son"

Mitchelle's gaze lifted slowly, meeting his, and for a fleeting moment, there was a shared understanding between them, a quiet acknowledgment that despite the distances that had grown between them and their son, they were bound by more than just blood.

It was a bond that transcended space and time.

"Do you ever... miss him?"

She asked, her voice barely audible, almost as if afraid of the vulnerability in her words.

Michael's response was immediate, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, though it was not one of mockery but of a rare warmth.

"Miss him?"

He asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I don't miss him in the way you think. I know he's out there, getting stronger, learning more than we could ever teach him. I trust him to find his own way. But do I look forward to seeing what he's become? Absolutely. I can't wait to see what he does next. After all, he's our baby monster"

Mitchelle's expression softened at the words, a small, fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Baby monster, huh? He certainly lives up to that name"

Michael's gaze turned distant, as if his mind were already far ahead of the present moment.

"I'm sure of it. He's pushing himself in ways we can't even fathom. By the time the competition arrives, Anthony will have far surpassed anything we ever imagined for him. The world will finally see just how powerful he truly is"

Mitchelle nodded, though her mind still lingered on the uncertainty that clouded her heart.

"But we haven't seen any sign of him, Michael. The competition is approaching, and I'm beginning to wonder if he'll even show up"

Michael's expression shifted slightly, a deeper layer of thought in his eyes.

"I believe he will"

He said slowly, his voice steady with conviction.

"He's not the type to abandon a challenge"

Mitchelle bit her lip, the concern still lingering.

"And what if... what if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll wait"

Michael answered simply, his gaze unwavering.

"We wait, just as we've always done. He's our son. And we've already seen the power that resides within him. No one can stand in his way"

For a long moment, Mitchelle simply stared at him, her mind turning over his words.

She wanted to believe in him, to trust in the strength of their son.

But the mother in her could not shake the feeling of loss, the absence that lingered, making her question whether she had missed something important.

"Do you really think he's ready for this?"

She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Michael smiled, a rare, almost playful smile that made his features soften.

"I don't think he's ready. I know he is. You'll see, Mitchelle. Our baby monster will make his mark, just as he always has."

The quiet tension in the room lingered, but there was an unspoken agreement between them now.

Michael believed in their son's strength, his unyielding potential, and his capacity for greatness.

Mitchelle, though her heart ached with the distance, was beginning to accept that belief.

Even if she couldn't feel him, even if she couldn't sense his presence, she had to trust that Anthony was where he needed to be, preparing for what would come.

And when the time arrived, she would stand by him, no matter how far he had gone or how much he had changed.