The Wishbone

Duc sat at the corner booth of the diner, his hands gripping a mug of lukewarm coffee that tasted faintly of burnt beans. The place had been his sanctuary for as long as he could remember — a relic from his teenage years when he’d spent hours at these worn-out tables, scheming, dreaming, planning an escape from this sleepy town. But all that felt like another life now.

Across from him sat his mother, a tired woman whose face wore the years of disappointment in deep lines. Between them, a modest Thanksgiving meal was laid out: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and the wishbone — a cruel joke sitting in the center of the table like a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Duc didn’t care much for holidays anymore, but he cared about what was coming in two hours — the meeting that would determine whether everything he’d worked for would finally pay off.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He knew who it was — Lisa, his fiancée. She had been calling all morning, but Duc wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say. Not yet. Not until he had an answer, one way or another.

His mother reached across the table, her movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of the years was pressing down on her shoulders. "You haven't touched your food, Duc," she said quietly.

He gave her a weak smile. "Not hungry.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. The sound of silverware clinking against plates filled the space between them. It wasn’t that the food didn’t look good — it was just that Duc had lost his appetite for everything. He had put all his energy, his focus, into this one meeting with an investor, hoping to finally secure enough money to get his startup off the ground. It was the one thing that could change his life, lift him out of this town that had become a prison.

The bell above the diner door jingled, and for a moment, Duc tensed, half expecting to see Lisa walk in, but it was just an elderly couple shuffling in, hands clasped together.

"You know," his mother began, her voice tinged with that ever-present sense of caution, "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time to reconsider some things.”

Duc's stomach churned. He knew where this was going. His mother had never understood his obsession with leaving — leaving the town, the family business, the life she had planned for him. She wanted him to be sensible, practical, content.

"I know what you're going to say, Ma. But this meeting — this is everything. It’s my last chance to make something of myself.”

"You’ve been saying that for years, D." Her voice softened. "What if it doesn’t go the way you want? What if—”

"It will," he interrupted, more forcefully than he intended. His mother flinched, and guilt swelled in his chest. "I’m sorry," he muttered. "I just… I need this to work.”

She reached across the table, her hand hovering above his, unsure. Finally, she let it rest on the edge of his plate. "What’s so wrong with staying? Lisa's here. Your friends are here. You have roots, Duc. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

"Not for me.”

"You know," she said, looking out the diner window, "I had dreams too. I wanted to leave this town once. But life had other plans.” Her voice softened, almost wistful. "Sometimes, you don’t get to chase your dreams, Duc. Sometimes you just have to make peace with what you have.”

The air between them thickened, and for a long while, neither of them spoke. Then, as if to punctuate the silence, his mother picked up the wishbone, holding it delicately between her fingers.

"Do you remember what you used to say when we did this every year?" she asked, a faint smile crossing her lips.

Duc looked at the wishbone, its dull white surface gleaming under the diner lights. He remembered, of course. He had always wished for the same thing, year after year.

“I wished to get out of this town," he said, his voice hollow.

"And every year, I’d tell you that it wasn’t the wishbone that was broken.”

Duc almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. He had spent his entire life wishing for something he couldn’t grasp, and now, it felt like he was closer than ever, yet still miles away.

His mother held the wishbone out to him. "Let’s do it one last time. For old times’ sake.”

He stared at it for a moment, then hesitantly took one end. His mother’s hand was surprisingly firm on the other side, and for a brief second, he was a child again, filled with hope and belief in magic.

"Close your eyes," she said softly, and they did. "Make a wish.”

Liam wished for the same thing he always did — that his meeting would go well, that this investor would see his potential, that he could finally get the funding he needed to leave this place once and for all.

They pulled. The bone snapped with a soft crack, and Duc opened his eyes.

His mother held the larger piece, her eyes downcast. "Looks like it’s not your year, kiddo.”

Duc's throat tightened. "Guess not.”

Duc’s leg bounced under the table, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against his mug. He felt like the walls were closing in, the diner’s worn leather seats suffocating him. The minutes crawled by like hours, each one bringing him closer to that meeting — his last shot.

His phone buzzed again. This time, he pulled it out, staring at the screen. It wasn’t Lisa — it was the investor’s assistant. His heart raced as he opened the message.

"Investor has decided to pursue other opportunities. Best of luck with your future endeavors.”

Reconsidering. His heart sank, and for a moment, everything blurred. All the time he had spent, the sacrifices, the sleepless nights — they were slipping through his fingers.

"Bad news?" his mother asked quietly.

Duc nodded, swallowing hard. "Postponed. They might… they might not even meet with me.”

His mother’s hand squeezed his gently, offering comfort, but it only made the sense of loss sharper. He had given everything, and it still wasn’t enough.

The diner was quiet now, save for the hum of the fridge and the occasional clatter from the kitchen. Duc felt trapped, suffocated by the walls closing in around him.

"You know," his mother said after a long pause, "sometimes, what we think we want isn’t what we need.”

Duc blinked at her, unsure if he wanted to hear what she had to say.

She smiled gently. "You’ve always been looking for a way out. But maybe… maybe staying isn’t the worst thing. You’ve got Lisa. You’ve got me. You’ve got people here who care about you. There’s a life here, Duc, if you’re willing to see it.”

Duc's jaw clenched. "I don’t want to stay, Ma. I can’t.”

"But what if this is where you’re meant to be?”

He stared at her, the words lingering in the air. Could it really be that simple? Could he let go of the dreams he had held onto for so long? Could he stay in this town, with its cracked sidewalks and familiar faces, and find contentment?

His phone buzzed again — this time, it was Lisa. He stared at the screen, hesitating.

"Maybe it’s time to answer," his mother said softly.

Duc took a deep breath and swiped the screen. "Hey," he said, his voice shaking.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then Lisa's voice, soft and hesitant. "How did it go?”

"It didn’t," he admitted, the weight of the truth settling in his chest. "The meeting’s postponed. Might not happen at all.”

"Oh.”

The silence stretched between them, and Duc's chest tightened. He could picture her sitting on their worn-out couch, waiting for him to come home, waiting for the answer that would determine their future.

"Lisa," he began, "I don’t know what to do anymore.”

"You’ve fought so hard for this, Duc," she said softly. "But maybe it’s okay to stop fighting. Maybe we can be happy here, together. Isn’t that enough?”

His mother watched him quietly, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and understanding. And for the first time in years, Duc felt something shift inside him — a loosening of the grip he had on his dream, an acceptance of the life he had been running from.

Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he had been chasing the wrong thing all along.

Duc ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of years of struggle press down on him. He had spent so long trying to be something more, to escape. But what if all this time, he was running in circles, avoiding the life that was waiting for him here? The thought left him hollow, but... lighter too. Like he could finally breathe again.

"I’ll be home soon," he said softly, and hung up.

He looked at the broken wishbone on the table, then at his mother. Maybe it was time to stop wishing for something else and start accepting what was right in front of him.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Duc felt a glimmer of peace.