“You can divorce a husband, but kids are forever!”
“Come in quick! My sister’s here!” called out Nadine to her neighbour Vera as soon as she spotted her at the doorstep of their home in Manchester.
“Lorraine? No way! How many years has it been?” gasped Vera, stepping into the cosy kitchen.
Perched on a chair was a striking woman with a tired but kind smile. The moment she saw Vera, Lorraine leapt up and threw her arms around her. They’d been thick as thieves since childhood, sharing every joy and heartache, and now, years later, reuniting felt like stepping back into those carefree days.
“We should celebrate! Two whole years!” Vera提议ed, and soon the women were settled around the table, lost in chatter. Each had a story soaked in the kind of happiness and sorrow life hands out like free samples.
Lorraine had been widowed six years ago. Her husband, Arthur, died in a car crash—with his mistress in the passenger seat. For a whole year, he’d led a double life, and Lorraine hadn’t suspected a thing. She’d felt something was off, but for the sake of their son and daughter, she’d fought to keep the marriage afloat. They adored their dad, and she couldn’t bear to shatter their world.
The accident changed everything. The kids, shattered by the loss, took ages to piece themselves back together. Lorraine, crushed under her own grief, tried to be their rock, but the pain gnawed at their family from the inside.
“My Paul was an absolute nightmare,” sighed Vera, sipping her tea. “Read about toxic relationships online—bang on about him. Thank goodness I kicked him out before he got even worse.”
“Husbands are one thing,” Lorraine said with a bitter chuckle. “You can divorce them. But kids? You’re stuck with them. After Arthur died, mine went completely off the rails. We all grieved, but my son… he blamed me for everything. Said it was our arguments that drove his dad to cheat. Claimed his nerves were shot, so he crashed the car. Now? He hates me. Told me I should’ve died instead of his father. Can you imagine, Vera? That I should’ve…”
She trailed off, her voice cracking, eyes swimming. Vera and Nadine sat frozen, lost for words. Lorraine took a shaky breath and went on.
“He’s turned into a proper tyrant. Only 19, and I’m terrified of him. It’s not just insults—he gets physical. I put up with it because… what else can I do? Report my own son? He even harasses my sister when she sticks up for me. The other day, he lost it and slammed her head into the table corner—just because we went for a walk together. Apologised after, of course, but next day? Back to his old tricks. I’m hoping the army might knock some sense into him. My daughter and I ran away here just to catch a break from his reign of terror.”
Vera’s heart ached as she watched her friend. She knew how deep Lorraine’s pain ran but couldn’t find the right words. Nadine, Lorraine’s sister, sat silently fiddling with a napkin, her eyes just as glossy.
“You know,” Lorraine continued, “I keep asking myself—where did I go wrong? I tried to be a good mum, and my son sees me as the enemy. He blames me for every bad turn his life’s taken. And I… I just don’t know how to keep going.”
“It’s unbearable,” Vera whispered. “How can he treat his own mother like that? He needs to see you’re not to blame!”
“He doesn’t want to see,” Lorraine said, shaking her head. “Hating me is easier. And I’m scared he’ll ruin not just my life but my sister’s too. She puts up with his tantrums for my sake.”
Nadine finally looked up. “Lorraine, I’ll never regret standing by you. He’s your son, but this isn’t right. We’ve got to do something. Maybe talk to him? Or get him to a therapist?”
“A therapist?” Lorraine gave a hollow laugh. “He wouldn’t even listen. Says it’s all my fault, full stop.”
The kitchen fell into a silence as heavy as storm clouds. Each woman felt the other’s pain but had no clue how to ease it. Trying to lighten the mood, Vera raised her mug.
“Girls, let’s drink… to us. To finding the strength to keep going, no matter the husbands or kids who break our hearts.”
Lorraine and Nadine managed weak smiles, but their eyes stayed wet. They clinked glasses, though there was no joy in the toast. Lorraine gazed out the window at the darkening sky, thinking of her son. She still loved him, despite the hurt. But deep down, she feared that love might just be her undoing.
