“It’s not for you to decide where my son lives,” snapped his ex-wife, stepping over the threshold.
“Daddy, when is Mummy coming?” asked Oliver, pushing aside his maths workbook.
Edward glanced up from his newspaper, studying his son. The boy was only eight, yet his eyes carried a sadness too heavy for his age.
“I dont know, Ollie. She said shed visit this weekend, but todays only Wednesday.”
“But will she *really* come? Last time she promised, then rang to say she was busy.”
Edward sighed. How do you explain to a child that his mother now lived in another city, with another man, and that he had become little more than an obligation to her? A monthly visita toy, a trip to the caféthen she vanished again.
“Shell come, love. She will.”
“Okay,” the boy murmured, returning to his book. “Can I watch cartoons later?”
“Finish your homework first.”
Edward pretended to read the paper, but the words blurred. Three years since the divorce, and still his life was the same endless loopwork, home, Oliver. Friends urged him to meet someone new, but how could he, when his boy still waited for a mother who barely remembered him?
Outside, dusk settled as Oliver finally shut his books.
“Dad, whats for dinner tomorrow?”
“Your favouritepasta bake.”
Oliver grinned. “And salad?”
“Of course. Cucumber and tomato.”
They moved to the kitchen, Edward pulling ingredients from the fridge while Oliver perched on a stool, swinging his legs, chattering about school.
“Tom Jenkins fell in PE todayblood everywhere! Miss Wilson took him to the nurse.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Nah, just a plaster. Dad… why do Toms parents come to meetings together, but youre always alone?”
The knife stilled in Edwards hand. Half-sliced cucumber lay forgotten.
“Your mum and I… we have different lives now.”
“Oh,” Oliver said, unconvinced.
After dinner, the boy obediently brushed his teeth. Edward tidied up, brewed tea. The flat hummed with quietness, the telly murmuring faintly in the background.
At work the next day, his colleague Richard brought it up again.
“Ed, mate, youve got to move on. Shes barely been a mother to him! Showing up once a month doesnt change that. Youre the one raising him.”
“Rick, you dont understand. Theres no time for anything. School runs, homework, bedtime stories. Weekends are laundry, groceries”
“Find a woman wholl *help*! Someone kind. Oliver could do with a stepmum.”
“And if he doesnt like her? If his mum storms back in?”
Richard scoffed. “She wont. If she wanted to, shed have done it by now.”
Edward said nothing. Deep down, he knew his friend was rightbut admitting it hurt too much.
That evening, as Oliver bent over his homework, the doorbell rang. Edward checked the peepholeand froze.
Charlotte stood there. His ex-wife.
He opened the door.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Of course. Oliver! Mummys here!”
The boy barrelled out, flinging himself at her. She hugged him stiffly, as if relearning how.
“Youve grown so tall!”
“Mum, are you staying? Did you bring me something?”
“I did. But first, I need to talk to Dad.”
Oliver nodded, scampering off. Charlotte settled on the sofa. Edward lingered, uneasy.
“Tea?”
“Please.”
In the kitchen, his hands shook as he poured boiling water. When he returned, Charlotte looked polishednew haircut, expensive coat, manicured nails. Life in Manchester suited her.
“Howve you been?” he asked.
“Good. Works busy, pays decent. And you?”
“Alright. Olivers doing well.”
A pause. Then she straightened.
“Edward, I came to tell you something. James and I are getting married.”
“Congratulations.”
“And… I want Oliver to live with me.”
The room tilted. The teacup rattled in his grip.
“*What*?”
“Ive got stability nowgood job, nice house. James is fine with it. But you? Always at work, Oliver left to his own devices”
“Charlotte, are you *mad*? His school, his friendstheyre all here! And you”
“Me *what*? I was young, scared. But Im ready now.”
“Did you even *ask* Oliver what *he* wants?”
“Hes a child. He doesnt know whats best. I can give him more.”
Edward paced, fists clenched.
“Three years, Charlotte. *Three years* youve barely been around. Now suddenly you want him?”
“I have the *right*! Im his *mother*!”
“Mother?” He nearly spat the word. “A mother stays up when hes ill. Helps with homework, takes him to the dentist. What have *you* done?”
“I was *building* a life!”
“And who was building *his*? Who”
“*Quiet*!” she hissed. “Hell hear.”
Edward lowered his voice, but the fury remained.
“Why now? Why *now* do you decide you want him?”
She looked away.
“James wants kids. I cant have morethe doctors said. So we thought Oliver… Hed adjust.”
“So *thats* it. Your new man wants a ready-made family, and you remembered you had a son. How *convenient*.”
“Dont be cruel. Ive missed him.”
“Missed him?” Edward laughed bitterly. “You forgot his *birthday* last year!”
“I was *busy*”
“Enough,” he cut in. “Everyone was busy. Oliver grew up without you. And now you waltz back in, making demands.”
Footsteps padded down the hall. Oliver peered in.
“Mum, can we go out? The cinema, maybe?”
Charlotte forced a smile.
“Of course, love. Just let me finish talking with Dad.”
Oliver vanished. She waited, then continued:
“Edward, my minds made up. Ill go to court if I have to. Ive got the means nowgood income, a proper home. What do *you* have? A rented flat, an average job”
“I have *love* for my son. Do *you*?”
“Of course! I justI dont know how to show it like you do.”
“Or you dont *want* to.”
She stood, clutching her handbag.
“Ill give you till tomorrow. If you agree, well keep it civil. If not… the courts will decide.”
“You dont get to decide where *my* son lives,” Edward said coldly.
“Hes *my* son too!” she flared. “I have every right”
“Rights are *earned*.”
She marched to the door, then turned.
“Oliver! Come say goodbye!”
The boy raced out, hugging her.
“Mum, will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, darling. Absolutely.”
When the door closed, Oliver frowned at his father.
“Dad… were you fighting?”
“No, mate. Just… grown-up stuff.”
“Mum looked upset.”
Edward sat beside him, pulling him close.
“Ollie… tell me honestly. Do you want to live with Mum?”
The boy thought.
“Where does she live?”
“Manchester. Far from here.”
“What about school? And Tom? And Granny?”
“Youd have a new school. New friends.”
Oliver shook his head.
“No. I want to stay with *you*. Maybe visit Mum sometimes.”
“Alright, son. Alright.”
That night, Edward lay awake. Tomorrow, Charlotte would return for his answer. What then? A legal battle? Could he even afford a solicitor?
At breakfast, Oliver spoke around a mouthful of toast.
“Dad… if Mum takes me away, will you be sad?”
Edward crouched to his level.
“Oliver, *no ones* taking you. Were family, understand?”
The boy nodded. “And Mum?”
“Shes family too. Just… living elsewhere.”
“Like Auntie Claire?”
“Something like that.”
At school, Edward lingered, speaking with Olivers teacher.
“Hes a bright boy,” Mrs. Higgins said. “Well-behaved, popular. Though he does get quiet sometimes. Missing his mum, I expect.”
Edward nodded.
“Any plans to remarry? Children thrive in stable homes.”
He mumbled something noncommittal.
That evening, Charlotte arrived promptly at seven. Oliver bounded to her, but she held him at arms length.
“Sweetheart, go to your room. Dad and I need to talk.”
Edward nodded confirmation.
Once alone, Charlotte folded her arms.
“Well? Have you decided?”
“Yes. Oliver stays with me.”
“Edward, *think*! I can give him morebetter schools, more opportunities!”
“More *love*?”
“*Yes*!”
“Then whyve you ignored him for three years?”
She hesitated.
“Fine. Well do this in court. James supports meweve got the money for lawyers.”
“You still wont ask *Oliver*?”
“What does a *child* know?”
“Oliver!” Edward called. “Come here, please.”
The boy trotted in, sitting between them.
“Ollie, Mum wants you to live with her. What do *you* think?”
Oliver glanced between them.
“Is it far?”
“Quite far,” Charlotte admitted. “But its lovelybig house, your own room.”
“Ive got a room here.”
“Itd be *nicer* there.”
“Would Dad come too?”
“No. Hed stay here.”
Oliver shook his head.
“I dont want to leave Dad. He takes me to school, helps with homework, reads to me.”
“*I* can do those things!”
“Can you make pancakes? Play chess? Fix my bike?”
Charlotte faltered.
“Ill learn”
“No,” Oliver said firmly. “I want to stay with Dad. Ill visit you.”
Charlottes face twisted.
“Youve *turned* him against me!” she accused Edward.
“Mum, Dad *never* said bad stuff about you,” Oliver insisted. “He says youre just *busy*.”
She sank onto the sofa, covering her face. When she looked up, her eyes were red.
“I thought hed *want* to come.”
“Do *you* want him?” Edward asked softly. “Or does *James* just want a child?”
Silence. Then
“I dont know,” she whispered. “I *think* I do… but Im scared. What if I mess up? What if he hates me?”
“Mum, I *already* love you,” Oliver said. “I just want to live *here*.”
She hugged him tightly, weeping. Finally, she pulled back.
“Fine. Stay with Dad. But… can I visit more?”
“Whenever you like,” Edward said.
“And call?”
“Anytime.”
She kissed Olivers forehead, then left. The boy watched from the window as her taxi drove away.
“Dad… will she *really* come back?”
“I think so. She loves you.”
“Why did she want to take me, then?”
Edward ruffled his hair.
“Grown-ups get confused, mate. They think they know best… but sometimes they dont.”
“Oh. Dad… can we get pizza tonight? Instead of pasta?”
Edward laughed. “Deal.”
A week later, Charlotte rang. She spoke to Oliver for ages, asking about school, friends, weekend plans. Promised to visit in a fortnight.
And a month after that, in the park, Edward met a womanAnnawith her daughter, Lily. They talked. She was divorced too, raising her girl alone.
“Do you ever get lonely?” she asked.
“Sometimes. But hes worth it.”
Oliver and Lily played on the swings, giggling.
“Dad,” Oliver whispered later, “Annas nice. And Lilys fun.”
Edward smiled.
“Shall we meet them again?”
“*Yes*.”
And as they walked home, Oliver chattering about his new friend, Edward thought maybe Richard had been right all along.
Life did go on. And perhapsjust perhapshappiness wasnt out of reach after all.
