I once believed my daughter had a happy family until the day I visited them.
When our Eleanor told us she was marrying a man eight years her senior, we raised no objections. He made an excellent first impressionrefined, polite, and utterly devoted. Gregory knew how to make himself adored. He showered our daughter with affection: bouquets of roses, lavish holidays, elegant gifts. When he insisted on paying for the entire weddingthe banquet, her gown, the photographers, the decorationsI nearly wept. We were certain: our girl was in safe hands.
*”He owns his own business, Mum, dont fret,”* Eleanor would reassure me. *”Hes well-off, and hes got everything under control.”*
Six months after the wedding, Gregory visited us with Eleanor. He wandered through our flat in silence. The next day, workmen arrived to take measurements. A week later, they returned. Soon, our old Southampton flat boasted triple-glazed windows, soundproofed and sleek. Then came the refurbished balcony, a new air-conditioning unit, even fresh tiles in the hall.
My husband and I thanked him, bewildered, but he waved us off. *”A trifle. For my wifes parents, only the best will do.”* Of course, it pleased us. How could we not rejoice, seeing our daughter so well cared for, so loved by such a thoughtful man?
Then their first child was born. It was like something from a filmballoons upon leaving the hospital, a lace-trimmed christening gown, a professional photographer capturing every moment. My husband and I smiled, hearts full. *”Look at thema perfect little family.”*
Two years later, a second child arrived. More gifts, more celebrations. But Eleanor seemed hollow. Her eyes were weary, her smile strained. At first, I thought it was exhaustiontwo children are no small burden. Yet with each phone call, I sensed she was hiding something.
I decided to visit unannounced. I arrived one evening. Gregory was out. Eleanor greeted me without warmth, while the children played in their room. I kissed them, held them tightmy heart swelling at the sight of my grandchildren. Later, when they were absorbed in their cartoons, I gently asked my daughter:
*”Eleanor, my love, whats troubling you?”*
She stiffened, stared blankly, then forced a smile.
*”Im fine, Mum. Just tired.”*
*”Its more than that. Youre lifeless. You dont laugh anymore. I know you, Eleanor. Tell me the truth.”*
She hesitated. Then the front door slammedGregory was home. When he saw me, his smile was thin, his eyes like ice. His greeting was polite, but I felt unwelcome. And then I smelled ita cloying, feminine perfume, too sweet to be his. Something distinctly a womans scent.
When he removed his coat, I spotted lipstick on his collar. Pink. I couldnt stop myself. *”Gregory were you truly at the office?”*
He froze. Then, with chilling calm, he straightened and met my gaze. *”Jacqueline, with all due respect, our marriage is none of your concern. Yes, theres another woman. But it means nothing. For a man of my standing, such things are commonplace. Eleanor knows. It changes nothing. We wont divorce. The children, my wifeall is managed. I provide. So dont trouble yourself over a smudge of lipstick.”*
I clenched my jaw. Eleanor rose and slipped away to the childrens room, head bowed. He strolled off to shower as if nothing had happened. My heart ached with helplessness. I went to my daughter, held her tight, and whispered:
*”Eleanor is this really what you accept? That he shares anothers bed while you endure it? Is this what family means?”*
She shrugged and began to crysilent, as if the tears fell without her consent. I stroked her back, saying nothing. There was so much to say, yet words were useless. The choice was hers. To stay with a man who thought wealth excused betrayal. Or to choose herself.
She was trapped in that *”gilded cage”* where everything seemed flawlessexcept respect. Except love, the true kind, built on honesty, not disdain.
I left that night. Sleep wouldnt come. My heart was torn. I wanted to gather her and the children and run. But I knewuntil she decided, nothing would change. All I could do was wait. And hope that one day, Eleanor would choose herself.
