For several moments, Luke was utterly silent, frozen with his hands curled in his mother's shirt, eyes huge and stunned on Anakin. And then his mouth was suddenly trembling, and he was scrubbing away embarrassing tears again. "R-really?" he whispered, and lowered his arm to glare accusingly at the older man. "Why didn't you ever come to get me?" he demanded, hiding hurt desperately. "Didn't you want me? Did you think I wouldn't be good? I have been! No matter what Uncle Owen says!" He was crying, then, tears running down his face silently, mouth a thin, determined line in his face as he wiped frantically at the moisture.
Maybe he really was bad, and just didn't realise. Maybe he wasn't good enough to be Darth Vader's son. Maybe he'd been a mistake.