My Son Was My Best Friend and Rock Throughout My Life, But After His Wedding, We Became Strangers.

My son has always been my friend and my pillar throughout my life, but after his wedding we became strangers.
My son has always been my confidant and support, yet everything shifted after he married.
I never imagined my child could change so drastically under someone elses influence. My only son, Alexandre, was always a golden boycourteous, kind, always ready to help. He grew up that way and remained that way into adulthood. Until his marriage, we were inseparable: we met often, talked for hours about everything and nothing, shared our sorrows and joys, and supported each other. Of course, within reasonable limitsI didnt intrude into his life more than necessary. Everything collapsed when she entered his lifeMarine.
For their wedding, Marine and Alexandre received, as a gift from her parents, a oneroom apartment in the heart of Lyon, freshly renovated. It became their property, their cosy nest. I was never invited over, but my son showed me pictures on his phone: bright walls, new furniture, a warm atmosphere. After my husbands death, I had no savings left, so I decided to pass almost all my jewellerygold chains, rings, earrings collected over the yearsto the young couple. I told Marine, If you want to melt them down, I dont mind. I wanted to help them, to support them at the start of their life together.
But Marine she quickly revealed her true nature. A strongwilled woman, sharp as a blade. I noticed how she rummaged through the wedding envelopes filled with moneyher curiosity about the amount unsettled me. On one hand, that trait could make a good wife; on the other, it meant I had to stay wary. Nowadays many women see their husband as a wallet, spend his money as if it were theirs, then divorce, take half, and move on to another target. I dont wish that fate for Alexandre, but the worry eats at me.
Six months after the wedding, Marine declared she didnt want children for now. Not now, she said, in our tiny flatits impossible. She threw up her hands: What can we do? I dont want to take a loan, and we dont know when well afford a bigger place. Alexandre isnt a big boss yet. She spoke out loud, but I sensed the calculation in her tone. Meanwhile, I lived in the house my late husband had begun to build. It remained unfinished, with holes in the walls. In winter it was freezingmy pension barely kept it warm. Then Marine said, Sell your house, buy a studio, and give us the rest for a new apartment. Then well think about kids.
Do you see what that means? She wants me, old and frail, to disappear while they take the best of everything. Perhaps theyd even push me out of that home and into a care facility. At first I thought about agreeingif only they helped me financially once a month. Now? Never! With someone like Marine you have to stay on guard; you can expect any trick.
After that conversation Alexandre visited me several times. He subtly hinted that his idea wasnt so bad: Why do you need a big house? It would be easier in a flat with lower expenses. I stayed firm: The city is growing; in five to ten years the houses will be worth more. My land is no longer on the outskirtsselling now would be foolish. One day I suggested an exchange: they would move into my house and I into their studio. After all, its the same thing, right? Marine refused. She didnt like that the house needed repairs and investment while I would live comfortably in their offered flat. She wants comfort, even if my proposal is more advantageous. Thats just how she is, and theres nothing to change.
Then I fell seriously ill, down to the bones. Confined to bed, unable to standfever, cough, excruciating headaches. I called Alexandre, begging him to come, to bring food and medicine. I knew the young couple had little time, but I lacked the strength to even boil water. I never thought he would abandon everything for me. And what happened? He arrived only the next day, handed me a makeshift Fervex powder, left an unwrapped, probably expired box of aspirin on the table, shrugged, and left. Fortunately a friend rescued me, bringing soup, medication, everything I needed. If she hadnt been there, what would have become of me?
My son was my light, my support all my life. I trusted him blindlyhe was more than a son, a friend, a part of me. But marriage erased it all. We became strangers, and I am powerless to change that. He is my only child, my love, my pride, yet now I see his heart is elsewhere. He chose her. Marine positioned herself between us like a wall, and Im left on the other sidealone, abandoned, useless. Reason says the bond is broken. Its time for him to choosehis mother or his wife. The choice is as clear as day. Still, my heart clings to the hope that he will remember what I meant to him, that he will return. Yet each day that hope melts like snow under a foreign sun.