The father sighed, speaking slowly.
"We know, but that doesn't make the pain any less, son. We thought the world was better now, but it turns out prejudice still exists, lingering and silent."
Michael looked at his parents with deep, troubled eyes.
A strong sense of resolve rose within him, knowing he would not let this go quietly, not only for his parents' honor, but for justice and dignity for people like them.
People who deserved the respect they were born with.
"Don't worry," Michael said softly but with certainty. "This can't be left like this. I will take care of it for you. But right now, the most important thing is that you both rest and don't think about it anymore."
The elderly couple looked at their son, nodding gently, feeling a mix of pride and comfort.
No matter how harsh the world outside might be, at least they had a peaceful place to return to and a son who would always stand by them through any storm.
That evening, the dinner passed in a quieter, more gentle silence.
But Michael knew deep in his heart that this was just the beginning.
As dinner came to an end, Michael gently led his parents to the spacious living room, where the soft golden lights illuminated the plush leather sofas.
He silently sat across from them, waiting with patient concern, sensing that his parents were still holding something back, something they hadn't yet said.
After a few minutes of silence, the father cleared his throat, looking at his wife as if seeking a bit of courage.
Finally, he decided to speak, his voice low, each word seeming to come from the depths of his heart.
"Actually, today wasn't just about people looking down on our appearance, son."
He hesitated for a moment, then continued.
"It's also about the way they looked at our skin, the way they said that people like us don't belong there."
Michael's eyes immediately hardened.
His hands unconsciously clenched into fists, but he forced himself to remain calm.
His father continued, his face showing deep bitterness and hurt.
"They didn't just judge us by our old clothes. They judged us by our skin color. They outright said that people like us can't afford it, as if they had made their judgment after one look."
The mother wiped away her tears, her voice trembling with both frustration and sorrow.
"They even laughed at us. In a place filled with so many people, we felt like we were out of place, like we didn't have any value."
Michael sat there, his eyes flashing with intense anger, but he immediately took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the rage.
Deep down, he knew that a burst of anger would solve nothing.
But the raw truth of what he had just heard made his heart tighten with bitterness.
"Mom, Dad," Michael spoke after a long pause, his voice lower and colder than usual. "Did they say anything else that was more offensive?"
The father shook his head slowly, his gaze still full of pain.
"No, son. Just those words alone were enough to hurt us deeply."