My son has been my friend and my rock all my life, but after his marriage, we became strangers.
My son was always my friend and my support. But after he married, everything changed.
I never imagined my child could change so much under someone elses influence. My only son, William, had always been a golden boypolite, kind, eager to help. Thats how he grew up, and thats how he stayed as an adult. Until he married, we were inseparable: we saw each other often, talked for hours about anything and everything, shared our sorrows and joys, and stood by each other. Of course, within reasonI never interfered beyond what was necessary. But everything fell apart when she entered his lifeSophie.
For their wedding, Sophie and William were gifted a newly renovated one-bedroom flat in the heart of London by his parents. It became their home, their little nest. I was never invited over, but my son showed me photos on his phone: bright walls, new furniture, a cosy atmosphere. After my husbands death, I had no savings left, so I decided to pass on nearly all my jewellery to the young couplegold chains, rings, earrings collected over the years. I told Sophie, “If youd rather melt them down, I dont mind.” I wanted to help them, to support them as they started their life together.
But Sophie she showed her true colours straight away. A strong-willed womansharp as a blade. I noticed how she rifled through the wedding envelopes stuffed with cashher curiosity about how much was inside unsettled me. On one hand, that trait mightve made her a clever wife, but on the otherit was a warning. Women these days often see their husbands as wallets, spending their money like their own, then divorcing, taking half, and moving on to the next target. I dont wish that fate on William, but the worry gnaws at me.
Six months after the wedding, Sophie announced she didnt want children yet. “Not now,” she saidtheir small flat wasnt suitable. She threw up her hands, “What can we do? I dont want a mortgage, and who knows when well afford a bigger place? William hasnt become a big-shot executive yet.” She mused aloud, but I heard the calculation in her voice. And me? I live in the house my late husband started building. Its unfinished, with holes in the walls. In winter, its freezingmy pension doesnt cover heating it all. Then Sophie suggested, “Sell your house, buy a studio, and give us the rest for a new flat. Then well think about children.”
Do you see what that means? She wants me, old and frail, to cram into a shoebox while they take the best. And whos to say they wouldnt swindle me into a care home next? At first, I almost agreedif theyd help me financially once a month. But now? Not a chance. With someone like Sophie, you must watch your backshe could pull any trick.
After that talk, William visited me a few times. He gently hinted that her idea wasnt so bad: “Why do you need a big house? A flat would be easier, with lower bills.” I held firm: “The citys growing. In five or ten years, houses here will be worth more. My lands not on the outskirts anymoreselling now would be foolish.” One day, I offered a swap: they could live in my house, and Id take their flat. After all, whats the difference? But Sophie refused. She didnt like that the house needed work, investment, while Id live worry-free in their gifted flat. She wants comfort, even if my offer made more sense. Thats how she isand nothing will change it.
Then I fell ill. Badlyaching to the bone. Bedridden, too weak to standfever, cough, a pounding headache. I called William, begging him to come, to bring food and medicine. I knew they were busy, but I couldnt even boil water. Once, Id never have dreamed hed hesitate. Now? He didnt come until the next day. He stirred some Lemsip powder, left an unboxed packet of paracetamolprobably expiredshrugged, and left. Luckily, a friend saved mebrought soup, medicine, everything I needed. What if she hadnt? What wouldve become of me?
My son was my light, my strength all my life. I trusted him completelyhe was more than a son, he was a friend, a part of me. But marriage erased it all. Were strangers now, and Im powerless to fix it. Hes my only child, my love, my pride, yet now I see: his heart isnt with me anymore. He chose her. Sophie stands between us like a wall, and Im left on the other sidealone, abandoned, useless. My head says the bond is broken. Its time for him to choosehis mother or his wife. And the choice is clear as day. But my heart still hopes hell remember what I was to him, that hell come back. Yet every day, that hope fades like snow in foreign sunshine.
