An Apartment for Our Son, But With One Condition: I Have to Remarry Him
My names Margaret, Im sixty and I live in Manchester. Never in a million years did I think the past would come knocking like thisafter twenty years of silence, and with such cheek! The worst part? Its my own son bringing it all back.
When I was twenty-five, I was head over heels. Jamestall, charming, full of lifewas everything I dreamed of. We married quickly, and a year later, our son Thomas was born. Those early years were like something out of a fairy tale. We lived in a tiny flat, full of dreams and plans. I was a teacher, he was an engineer. Nothing could touch our happiness.
But over time, James changed. Late nights, lies, distance. I ignored the rumours, turned a blind eye to the strange perfumes. But eventually, the truth was undeniable: he was cheating. Not just once. Friends, neighbours, even my parentsthey all knew. I clung on, trying to save our family. For Thomas. I put up with it far too long, hoping hed come to his senses. Then one night, I woke up to an empty bed and realised Id had enough.
I packed our things, took five-year-old Thomas by the hand, and went to my mums. James didnt even try to stop us. A month later, he moved abroadsupposedly for work. Soon enough, he found another woman and acted like wed never existed. No calls, no letters. Nothing. I was on my own. Mum passed, then Dad. Thomas and I got through it togetherschool, hobbies, illnesses, graduations. I worked my fingers to the bone so hed never go without. My life revolved around him. There was no room for anything else.
When Thomas got into university in Edinburgh, I helped however I couldcare packages, money, emotional support. But buying a flat? I couldnt swing it. He never complained, just said hed manage. I was so proud.
Last month, he came home with news: he was getting married. My joy didnt last. He was fidgety, avoiding my eyes. Then he dropped it:
“Mum I need your help. Its about Dad.”
My stomach dropped. Hed reconnected with James, who was back in the UK. His father was offering him the keys to a two-bed flat, inherited from his grandmother. Butthere was a catch. I had to remarry James and let him move into my place.
I couldnt breathe. I stared at my son, waiting for the punchline. He kept going:
“Youre on your own Youve got no one. Why not give it another shot? For me. For my future family. Dads changed”
I walked to the kitchen without a word. The kettle, the tea, my shaking hands. Everything blurred. Twenty years of doing it all alone. Twenty years of him not giving a damn. And now he waltzes back with a “proposal.”
I went back to the living room and said, calm as anything:
“No. I wont do it.”
Thomas exploded. Shouting, blaming me. Said Id always put myself first. That it was my fault he grew up without a dad. That I was ruining his life all over again. I stayed quiet. Every word cut deeper. He had no idea about the sleepless nights. The time I sold my wedding ring to buy him a winter coat. The meals I skipped so he could have meat.
Im not lonely. My lifes been hard, but its been honest. Ive got my job, my books, my garden, my friends. I dont need a man who betrayed me, slinking back for convenience.
Thomas left without a goodbye. No calls since. I know hes hurt. I get ithe wants whats best for him, just like I always did. But I wont sell my self-respect for a few square metres. The price is too high.
Maybe one day hell understand. Maybe not soon. But Ill wait. Because I love him. Really love himno conditions, no flats, no “ifs.” I brought him into this world with love. Raised him with love. And I wont let that love become a bargaining chip.
As for my ex-husband? He can stay right where he belongsin the past.
