I paced the flat, restless and uneasy. For days, Daniel had been coming home late—last night, he didn’t return until dawn. I’d scolded him, told him he could at least call, so I wouldn’t worry. We’d argued. Now I was waiting again, checking the clock every few minutes, my thoughts spinning.
“He loves me, but he could ring. Sooner or later, he’ll marry. I’ll have to accept it. Who knows what sort of wife he’ll end up with? More worries. Best not dwell on it. He’s grown, but it still hurts.” I couldn’t stop myself—just like the mothers I used to laugh at for fussing over grown sons. Now I was no better. Every girl he’d brought home, I’d judged unworthy. Of course, I believed he should consult me before choosing a bride—who knew him better than I did? The thoughts raced, endless. If only he’d just come home.
The lock clicked. I startled, though I’d been listening for it. “Finally!” I rushed to the hall but stopped halfway, retreating to the kitchen instead, hands folded on the table.
“Mum, why are you still up?” Daniel stood in the doorway.
“You know I worry. You could’ve called,” I said, sharper than I meant.
“Mum, I’m an adult. I’m not reporting every move to you.”
“Where were you?” I challenged.
“At Emily’s.” His voice softened.
“Another girlfriend—not the first, not the last. But you’ve only one mother.” The jealousy slipped out.
“Not ‘another.’ She’s the one, like you, Mum.” He kissed my cheek. “Don’t speak badly of her. You’ll regret it, and we’ll only row. How would I find a wife if I didn’t meet anyone? You always said not to marry the first girl I fancied.”
“I did,” I admitted. “So you’ve chosen her, then?”
He knelt beside me, meeting my eyes. My heart swelled—he looked so like his father just then.
“I have, Mum.” He rested his head on my knees.
“Then introduce us,” I said, gentler now.
“I will, but…” He hesitated.
“What? Is something wrong with her?” I nearly asked if she was some stray—like the puppies and kittens he used to drag home as a boy. Kindness to animals was one thing, but you couldn’t take them all in. Back then, I’d fake allergies, sneezing until he rehomed them. That wouldn’t work now.
I bit back the words when I saw his warning look.
“She’s lovely, Mum. Beautiful, cooks well—I’m happy. But she’s not alone.”
“You’re in love with a married woman?” Fear must’ve shown, because he quickly said,
“No. She has a son. He’s five.”
“Five?” I gasped. “How old is she?”
“Mum, don’t shout. Yes, she’s older.”
“I see.” Anger choked me. My boy, my sunshine, who I’d move mountains for—in love with an older woman, a mother already!
“You see what? I love her. People make mistakes—you’ve said so yourself.”
“Yes—some mistakes last a lifetime. And young, free girls don’t interest you now?” I snapped.
“This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t understand. Remember that girl at your work, the one left with a baby? You said she’d find a good man to be a father to her child. Why shouldn’t that man be me?”
“Darling, love fades. I adored your father, and he left us.”
“Exactly, Mum. A young wife doesn’t guarantee forever. I love Emily. And her son—he’s brilliant. Even if you object, I won’t leave her. Understood? Enough.”
“Daniel, I raised you to be happy—”
“Stop. It’s my life. Interfere, and I’ll go.” He walked out.
In the morning, he left without breakfast. Days passed in silence—late returns, closed doors. I didn’t know how to mend things. It felt like yesterday I’d rocked him to sleep, kissed scraped knees—now he had a life beyond me.
“Daniel, let’s talk,” I tried once.
“Talk when you’re ready to listen.”
“He really loves her. Push him, and you’ll lose him,” said Margaret, the eldest at work, when I confided over lunch. I needed to vent, to be heard.
“I know I’m wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself,” I admitted, near tears.
“Did you expect him to stay by you forever? He needs your support, not your disapproval. Did your mother-in-law welcome you straight off?”
“Not at first. But I was younger, no child,” I sniffed.
“She still found faults. Mothers always do—they resent losing sons. Some make peace with daughters-in-law; others wage war. Nothing good comes of it. You married without a child, yet raised yours alone.”
“Daniel said the same.”
“Then accept it. He’s not married yet. He still comes home. He’s waiting for you to show some wisdom—to love him without conditions. Meet this Emily. See for yourself. He’s not off to war—just building a life. The heart wants what it wants.”
I calmed, slowly. Three weeks of silence was enough. I decided to visit Emily—to ask her to let him go. I got the address from Daniel’s mate.
Tuesdays and Fridays, he went to the gym after work. I had an hour, maybe two. It’d be rude to show up empty-handed—too confrontational. Cake? That was for making up. A toy, though—that was for the boy, not his mother. The child wasn’t to blame.
At the shop, I lost myself picking out cars—this one today, that one next time. Though what next time? Unlikely.
I rang the bell. A pretty woman answered. A little boy darted out behind her, grinning until he saw me.
“Hello, I’m Daniel’s mum,” I said.
“I guessed. Come in. Oliver, go play,” Emily nudged him gently.
I toed off my shoes, slipping into a pair of Daniel’s slippers. The flat was cozy, tidy.
“I’m Oliver. Look at my plane! It sounds like a real engine!” He buzzed it around.
“Brilliant! I brought you something.” I handed him the toy car.
His eyes lit up. For fifteen minutes, we tested its doors, sped it across the floor. Emily drifted in and out, leaving us be.
I forgot why I’d come—until I realized Daniel would arrive soon. Of course this was where he’d been spending evenings.
“I should go,” I said, grabbing my bag.
“Won’t you wait for Daniel?” Emily asked.
“You’ll come back?” Oliver looked hopeful.
“I will.” Unexpectedly, I meant it.
Walking home, I replayed Oliver’s joy. How quickly he’d trusted me. Warmth spread through me. Emily hadn’t interfered—just let us bond.
Back in my flat, the silence ached. One day, he might not come home at all. The thought hollowed me out.
Next morning, I told Margaret about my “confrontation”—how I’d wanted to hug Oliver, breathe in that sweet, powdery scent only children have.
Then Daniel called, casual as ever: “Emily baked a cake. Come over—we’re celebrating.” He gave the address, pretending not to know I’d already been.
After work, I stopped for gifts—another car for Oliver, four colorful glasses.
“Thanks, Mum.” Daniel kissed me like old times. “Four?”
“I thought three for you, one for me—when I visit.” I flushed.
Emily smiled.
“Make it five, Mum. I’ve been waiting to propose.” He pulled out a velvet box. “Emily, marry me?”
“What?” I gasped. “You—you’re expecting?”
“Not yet. But we will be. A girl.” He winked at Emily, hugging me. “You’ve always wanted a grandchild.”
“You’re my grandma?” Oliver’s face was pure wonder.
