I saw my mother tonight. It was our designated weekly dinner. Every Tuesday. 7 PM. Her apartment. I dread it. Not because of her. Because of him. My brother. He’s 32. I’m 30. I got there at 6:58. He was already there, as usual. On the couch. Phone glowing. Head tilted down. Mother was in the kitchen, warming the food. Leftovers from her lunch. She always makes extra. I sat at the table. He didn't look up. She brought out the plates. Chicken and rice. It was cold. Not even lukewarm. I know she uses the microwave. I don't know why it was cold. She put his plate down first. Then mine. Then hers. She sat. He kept scrolling. She picked up her fork. Slowly. Moved a piece of chicken. Put it in her mouth. Chewed. Her eyes drifted to him. He was watching a video. No sound, but I could see the rapid thumb movements. Scrolling, scrolling. She ate another bite. Her gaze fixed on the screen reflection in his glasses. A faint flicker. She swallowed. Her expression… it wasn’t sad. It was blank. A kind of pervasive neutrality. A quiet resignation. She just kept eating. Cold food. I tried to initiate conversation. "How was your week, Ma?" She said, "Good, good. Quiet." I asked my brother, "Anything new at work?" He grunted. A non-committal sound. His eyes stayed glued. He finished his food in silence. Got up. Put his plate in the sink. Went back to the couch. Picked up his phone. She kept eating. Methodically. Small bites. She probably ate for another ten minutes after he was done. After I was done. I watched her. Her hands. The slight tremor. The way she held the fork. Like it was heavy. This is what I don’t understand. This is the pattern. Every week. The same. He’s like this with our father too. But our father… he just leaves the room. Mother… she sits there. Endures it. Or maybe that’s not the word. Maybe she doesn't perceive it as something to endure. Is this learned helplessness? Or cultural deference? To the eldest son. The male heir. Even if he’s apathetic. I see this behavior. And I feel… something. Not anger. Not pity. Just a profound sense of… disconnect. Like a misfiring synapse. The expected emotional response isn't there. I just observe. And record. And analyze. What is this emotion I should be feeling? And why isn’t it manifesting?