Didnt you go to your own sons wedding, Gillian?
Evelyn, have you finally lost your mind? The wedding of your only child and youre still here sipping tea!
Lucy Harper stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on her hips, eyes blazing with righteous fury. Gillian didnt even look up from her mug.
Sit down, youre already here. The kettles still on.
What kettle? Lucy stalked over, flopped onto the chair opposite. Its half past one. In an hour your son Arthur will be walking down the aisle, and youre still?
Im not going anywhere, Gillian said, taking a sip and staring out the window. Dont try to convince me.
Lucy fell silent, studying her friends face. Theyd been pals for forty years, since school, and Lucy knew Gillian like the back of her hand. But this was new.
Whats happened? she asked softly. You two seemed to have patched things up after that argument.
Gillian smirked.
We patched up. He called the day before yesterday and said, Come, Mum, if you want. As if I were going to a market, not my own childs wedding.
Maybe he just meant it metaphorically?
No, Lucy, Gillian turned, tears glinting. Im fortynine. I raised him alone, no husband. Two jobs to keep the lights on, studied, nursed him when he was sick, never slept a proper night. And now Im a burden, an extra.
Lucy reached over, covering Gillians hand.
Tell me everything, from the beginning.
Gillian poured tea for her friend, fetched some biscuits, and sighed heavily.
It all started six months ago. Arthur introduced me to Charlotte. Tall, slim, striking. I was thrilled at firstfinally my son was in a serious relationship, hes twentyseven. I said, Come over, lets get to know each other, Ill cook a proper dinner.
And Charlotte?
She walked in, looked around, and you could see she wasnt thrilled. Our flat is a modest twobedroom council house, scuffed cupboards, wallpaper from the seventies, but clean. I spent the whole day tidying, baked a cake.
Lucys mind drifted back to that evening: the best blouse, a quick hairdo, pulling out the grandmas china.
Charlotte perched on the edge of a chair as if she might stain herself. She smiled, but her eyes were ice. I asked what she did. Marketing, she said, running projects. Then, offhand, Your Arthur is talented, a shame hes still in a regular job.
Lucy snorted.
Sounds like a cheek, she muttered.
At first I didnt get it. Then it hit meshe was implying Id never helped my son grow. And I thought, What could I have done? Im a nurse on a tiny salary. Yet Arthur graduated, got a degree, works as a programmer, earns well, lives in a new build. Im proud.
Of course you are, Lucy nodded. What happened next?
We were having dinner, she kept talking about herselfbig projects, big earnings. Then she asked, Gillian, have you ever thought about moving into a care home? They have good support, people your age.
Lucy gasped.
Youre joking!
Dead serious. I froze. Arthur stared at his plate. I said, Im fortyeight, a care home? Im healthy, I work. She smiled, Just thinking ahead, so I dont become a burden.
Gillian rose, walked to the window. The sun was bright, spring in full swing, a gorgeous May day. Somewhere Arthur was getting his suit on, nervous. And she was there, still.
After dinner they left. Arthur hugged me, said, Dont mind me, Mum, Charlotte is just practical. Practical, as if she were a sofa to be tossed.
And you kept quiet?
No, I called him later. Told him what I thought. He got angry, accused me of being jealous, said I needed to learn to let go, that he was an adult and could choose where to live.
Lucy shook her head.
Kids can be cruel. They dont understand.
We fought. He didnt call for a month. I thought Id lost him forever. Then he came back, begged forgiveness, said Id always be the most important person to him. I believed him.
Gillian sat again, tea long cold, but she finished it.
A month later they announced the engagement. Arthur called, Mum, were getting married! I congratulated him, asked when. He said, Soon, weve already booked a restaurant. Come Saturday, well go over the details.
And you went?
I did. Their flat was huge, bright, freshly renovated, brandnew furniture. Charlotte greeted me coldly, like a health inspector. She led me to the sitting room, offered no tea.
Lucy clicked her tongue.
Rude.
They showed me a guest listseventy people. None of my friends. I asked, What about Lucy? They looked at each other and said, Mum, the venue is limited, only close friends and colleagues. I stayed quiet while they bragged about the ballroom and the menuexpensive, elegant. I thought, Where do I fit?
A flock of sparrows swooped past the window, settling on a lone oak. As a child, Arthur used to toss crumbs to them from that very sill.
Then Charlotte said, Gillian, we need to discuss a loan for the wedding. Well pay part of it, but could you help?
Lucy jumped up. She asked you to take a loan for their wedding?
Yes. I thought shed lost her mind. I said, Seriously? I earn thirtythousand pounds a year; no bank would give me a loan. And you both earn well enough. She replied, Were saving for a bigger flat in the city centre, and traditionally parents cover the wedding.
Lucy flushed.
Did you see him agree?
Arthur stayed silent, eyes down. It clickedhed sided with her, expecting me to foot the bill for a wedding I wasnt even invited to.
Gillian paced, hands trembling. How had her beloved son turned into a stranger?
I refused. I told them, Youre adults, you earn your own money. Ill help where I can, but I wont take a loan. Charlotte pursed her lips, What a selfish mother. Id spent thirty years giving everything, and now I was selfish?
What did Arthur say?
He walked me to the door, said, Mum, dont be angry. Charlotte is used to her parents paying everything. I asked, And you? He muttered, Wed love a lavish wedding, but were short on cash. I could help.
Both poured more tea, then fell silent. Stories like this happen often when children marry, but when its yours, silence feels like a scream.
I left that day, walked the street, cried. My neighbour, Aunt Valerie from the flat above, called, Gillian, whats wrong? I told her everything. She said, You know Charlotte tells everyone youre a hindrance, that youre holding them back.
Lucy stared.
Really?
Alice swore she heard Charlotte on the lift, complaining to a friend that her motherinlaw was cheap and outdated, that shed make sure Arthur sees me less after the wedding.
Gillian covered her face with her hands, the memory painful.
I didnt call Arthur right away. I waited, hoping hed come and explain. Weeks passed, then a message: Mum, wedding is Saturday. Invitation coming.
Did he send it?
Yesjust a link and the venue address, no personal note. I realised hed become someone elses husband, and I was just a duty to be discarded.
Lucy sighed.
Maybe shes the influence?
Arthur is twentyseven, a grown man. If he wanted to protect me, hed have. Hes staying quiet, so it must be convenient for him.
Outside, music drifted from a neighbours garden, TV chatter rose. Gillian checked the clockhalf past two. Guests were probably gathering. Charlotte, in a white dress, was dazzling, Arthur nervous. And she was missing.
Did you ever tell him you wouldnt go?
Yes, yesterday. I wont attend. He was silent, then asked why. I said, Because they dont want me. He tried to smooth it over, We do, Mum, youre welcome. I asked, Does Charlotte want me? He fell quiet, then said, Come if you wish.
Lucy repeated, If you wish.
Exactly. So I stayed home.
Gillian stood, opened the fridge, pulled out the pastries shed baked the day before, hoping Arthur might stop by. He didnt.
Eat one, she offered Lucy. Your favourite cabbage ones.
Lucy took a biscuit but didnt eat it, placing it on the plate.
Dont you regret not going? Its a onceinalifetime thing.
Gillian thought. Of course she did. She wanted to watch her boy walk down the aisle, cry with joy, hug him. But the thought of being a tolerable guest was worse.
Ive spent thirty years living for himskipping meals, losing sleep. I thought hed be grateful, love me, care for me. Instead hes become a burden, a resident of a care home in his mind. Let him live without me.
Are you angry at him?
No, just hurt. I feel Ive lost my son. Hes alive, healthy, nearby, but the boy I raised is gone, replaced by a stranger.
Lucy stood, hugged her friend. Gillian clung to Lucys shoulder, tears finally streaming, quiet sobs about shattered hopes and unspoken thanks.
Maybe itll get better, Lucy whispered, rubbing her back.
Probably not, Gillian replied, wiping her eyes. Charlotte will keep pushing me away. Shell keep him from me. Im not blind.
They lingered, sipping lukewarm tea, silence filling the kitchen. Lucy promised to drop by later. Gillian stayed alone in the empty flat, turned on the telly but couldnt watch. Memories of childhood flooded back: Arthur bringing dandelions from the garden, drawing cards for Mothers Day, shouting, Mum, I love you more than anyone!
Where is that boy now?
The phone rang sharply. It was Arthur. Gillian stared at the screen, then let it ring. A text soon followed: Mum, why arent you answering? The weddings already under way. Everyones asking where you are.
She read it, placed the phone down, typed back: Wishing you happiness. Take care of yourselves.
Arthur called again. She ignored it. New messages buzzed, but she didnt look. She went to her bedroom, lay on the bed, the quiet pressing on her ears. Was she right? Should she have gone for the sake of propriety?
No. Shed spent her whole life for othersArthur, work, keeping everyone happy. It was time to live for herself.
That evening Lucy phoned, How are you holding up? Gillian replied, Fine. Please dont come over, I need some alone time. She went to bed early, but sleep eluded her. She lay in darkness, listening to traffic, a distant dog barking, pondering the future.
Morning brought a knock. Arthur stood there, suit rumpled, eyes red from sleeplessness.
Can I come in? he asked softly.
Gillian stepped aside. He shuffled to the kitchen, sat on the same chair Lucy had used. She set the kettle, poured tea, and placed a cup before him.
You didnt come, he said finally.
I didnt.
Why?
She looked at her son, the man shed raised.
Because I wasnt wanted, she answered simply. Because I realised Im no longer needed.
Mum, thats not true
No, Arthur. You chose Charlotte, thats your right. But dont pretend you need me if you dont.
Arthur covered his face with his hands.
Im ashamed, he croaked. I let her treat you like that. I stayed silent when she insulted you.
Yes, Gillian agreed. You did.
Forgive me, he whispered, tears spilling. I was an idiot, chasing a pictureperfect wedding, status, everything, and I hurt the most important person.
Gillian stayed silent, weighing his words.
I told Charlotte that if she never respected you, Id leave her, Arthur said, wiping his eyes. She went off to the loo in a fury, then came back apologising. I dont know how sincere she is, but I made it clear: Mum is sacred.
A warm feeling spread through Gillians chest. Her son was back, if only for a moment.
I want to fix this, Arthur reached across the table, clasping her hand. I want you in my life, in my family, to know I love you, always have, always will.
Gillian squeezed his hand.
I love you too, she murmured. It just hurt.
I know. Ill make sure you never feel that again.
They sat, hands linked, the old wound easing slowly. Scars would remain, trust would need rebuilding, but the fact that her son finally saw her mattered.
Charlotte wants to talk, Arthur said. She wants to apologise. Is that okay?
Gillian thought. She wasnt eager to see the woman whod caused so much pain, but if they truly wanted to mend things, shed have to try.
Let her in, she said. Well see.
Arthur smiled, the first genuine smile in weeks, rose, gave his mother a tight hug. Gillian returned the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. Her boy, her blood. Hed made a mistake, but hed found the courage to admit it, and that was worth a fortune.
Later, by the window, she watched the street. The weight on her shoulders lightened. Maybe things would improve, maybe not. But she now knew she wasnt alone. She had a son who loved her and was willing to fight for her.
Her phone buzzed: a message from Lucy, Hows it going?
Gillian smiled, typed back, Arthur stopped by. Looks promising.
Life is unpredictable. One day it hurts, the next it cheers. The key is not losing hope and remembering that even in the darkest moments theres a way outsometimes you just have to look beyond the usual doors.
Gillian headed back to the kitchen, fetched flour, eggs, sugar, and decided to bake a cake. Arthur and Charlotte would be over later, and she needed something to offer. The wounds werent fully healed, but the first step toward reconciliation was taken.
What mattered was that shed stood her ground, refused to march to a wedding that didnt feel right for her. Shed said no to those she loved, to protect herself. She wasnt a piece of furniture, not an accessory. She was a person with feelings and a right to respect.
If that lesson serves Arthur well, then shed done the right thing.
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