At 32, She’s Now the Mother of a 12-Year-Old Who Just Married Her 22-Year-Old New Husband.

She is 32, and her 12yearold son has just married her new 22yearold husband.
She is 12, he is 22, and her mother is 32. Yesterday he became her mothers spouse, and they told her today.
The little girl locked herself in her room and didnt leave all day. When they called, her mother would stand at the door, suggest going to the movies, an amusement park, a walk, or visiting friends. She never answered. Lying on the couch she first wept, then fell asleep. Later she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. By evening hunger finally forced her out.
It took her several years to adjust to the new reality. Every word from her mother was received with suspicion; she watched them together with contempt, acted rude, crude, and full of hatred. Her mothers younger sister tried to speak to her, but she refused to listen. She often thought about escaping. One day she ran away, hiding in a neighboring house, sitting on the steps that led to the attic until the cold drove her to her aunts place.
When her mother came to fetch her, the girl was already warmed and had eaten. Her mothers hands trembled slightly and her eyes were watery. She had come alone.
They returned home by taxi. The girl watched her mothers profile and saw her as old, while he remained handsome. Then, mysteriously, he vanished for an entire month. The girl asked nothing, and her mother said nothing; the house returned to the way it had beenjust the two of them. Gradually they rebuilt their bond, and the girl calmed down.
Later he came backthe young husband of her mother. The girl grew used to his presence, realizing he was now part of their lives. At 18, while they were having lunch, she slid a knife across the table, deliberately holding his hand longer than needed. She looked him straight in the eyes, and he met her gaze. Her mother, pale, lowered her head. The meal ended in silence.
Another day, when her mother was absent, she approached him, pressed her forehead against his back, and held her breath. He froze for a moment, then turned, gently pushed her aside and took her by the shoulders, telling her not to act foolishly. She broke into hysterical tears: Why? What do you see in her? Shes old, she has wrinkles, cant you see? Why do you want an old woman?
He brought her a glass of water, settled her in a chair, covered her with a blanket, and then slammed the door as he left. She stayed weeping, realizing she had to leave, move to a university residence or find an apartment. She had just been rejected like a kittenset aside and humiliated.
He was so handsome. She dreamed of him. He didnt return home, and her mother stayed silent. The two of them drifted through the house like shadows.
He finally came back after a few days. Her mother wasnt there; she was alone again, writing notes in the kitchen while sipping tea. When he entered and sat opposite her, her heart stopped. Tired, he looked her in the eyes and said, Im in love with your mother, accept it. Shes the one I love, not you. We wont argue about this; we must stop hurting each other. He never looked away.
She spent the night lying awake, eyes dry, mind empty. The next day she caught him and her mother kissing in the kitchen, felt nauseous, and ran to the bathroom.
She secured a spot in a university residence. Her mother asked her to return, and later gave her money to rent an apartment.
At 25, he was 35 and her mother 45. Against all odds, their relationships had almost normalized. She visited them; they ate lunch together, talked, laughed. Her mothers sister once said, Thank God youve grown up. Her mother was happy, at peace, and her husband still stunningly handsome. She realized she compared every potential partner to him, and that notion displeased her.
Then she endured an unhappy love affair. The man was married and refused to leave his wife. She loved him, waited for him after work, wept. She didnt want to be a secret lover. Everything was painful, torn, bitter. He took her to the sea, gave her gifts, and wondered if that was enough, if the relationship had to be formalized with marriage and children. For him, living together was boring.
She refused, shaking her head stubbornly. She remembered her mother kissing her husband in the kitchen, and herself, foolishly, fleeing to vomit from disgust. She couldnt understand that a life together could be differentbeautiful, peaceful, authentic.
That year she weathered an intense inner storm. She rarely came home, met her mother in cafés, sometimes visited. Her mother had slimmed a bit, still caring about her appearance. Her husband remained charming. As an adult, clearsighted, she finally grasped the magnitude of her mothers love.
At 28, he was 38 and her mother 48. A job opportunity in another city arose, and she leftseeking that job to escape past exhausting relationships that had consumed nearly three years of her life.
She adapted well to the new life, calm. She even began a relationship with a single, charming coworker. It seemed time to marry, to start a family, to make life decisions.
Her mothers husband traveled to her new city for business. They had lunch together. She felt light and happy, telling him about her new life, asking about his work and her mother. He answered. Then she noticed his hands and felt an intense, physical longing to be held by him
He seemed to understand, fell silent, searching for words, fearing to hurt her, but eventually said, I love you, little stubborn girl. I know your pain, your wounds, your desires. Well always be good friends; you can always count on me.
The situation was awkward for both. She shook her head and laughed, What do you really want from me?
Shortly after, he called to tell her her mother was ill and awaiting a visit. She called her mother back, whose voice was tired yet comforting. Of course, dear, come next weekend. Not this timeyou have things to do. Ill be glad to see you; I miss you a lot. Then, unexpectedly, her mother added, Did you forgive me? I mean for him. I know you loved him; I saw it. Ive regretted a thousand times how things turned out. Forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you
Later he called again, announcing her mother was hospitalized and she needed to come. Two days of work, then she would go. Two days isnt long, right? Not long; shed arrive in time for tests and diagnosis.
She came, but couldnt see her mother in time. He stood in the hospital corridor, eyes empty, handsome yet distant. He stared heavily at her before turning toward the window.
After the funeral, she drifted through the apartment like a specter, moving objects, washing alreadyclean dishes, preparing and discarding tea after tea, repeatedly cleaning the windows.
He also took care of things, coming home late, skipping dinner, slipping silently into the bedroom.
One day he was absent; she entered the room. The scent of her mothers perfume, of past happiness, seized her heart as she saw her mothers photos everywhereon the nightstand, the wall, the duvet. She slammed the door shut.
She realized she had never truly understood their love, and she would never understand it.