I thought my daughter had a happy family until I visited them.
When our Emily told us she was marrying a man eight years her senior, we didnt object. He made an excellent first impressionrefined, polite, thoughtful. Gregory knew how to win people over. He spoiled our daughter with tender gestures: flowers, holidays, gifts. And when he insisted on covering all the wedding expensesthe venue, the dress, the videographers, the decorationsI nearly cried. We were certain our little girl was in good hands.
*”He runs his own business, Mum, dont worry,”* Emily would say. *”Hes comfortable, hes got everything under control.”*
Six months after the wedding, Gregory visited us with Emily. He walked through our flat without a word. The next day, technicians arrived to take measurements. A week later, workmen turned up. Soon, our modest flat in Manchester was fitted with luxurious triple-glazed, soundproof windows. Then came the refurbished balcony, new air conditioning, even the tiles were replaced.
My husband and I thanked him, bewildered, but he brushed it off with a wave. *”Small change. For my wifes parents, nothings too good.”* Of course, it pleased us. And how could we not rejoice seeing our daughter so well provided for, so loved, with such a doting husband?
Then their first child was born. It was like something from a filmthe maternity ward exit with balloons, a beautiful outfit, lace-trimmed blankets, a photographer. Everything was lavish. My husband and I smiled, touched. *”There they are, a happy family.”*
Two years later, a second child arrived. More gifts, more guests. But Emily seemed hollow. Tired eyes, a forced smile. At first, I thought it was postpartum fatigue. Two children arent easy. But every phone call left me feeling she was hiding something.
I decided to visit. I warned them in advance. I arrived one evening. Gregory wasnt there. Emily greeted me without enthusiasm. The children were playing in their roomI hugged them, held them close. My heart swelledgrandchildren, after all. Later, when they were absorbed in cartoons, I asked my daughter gently:
“Emily, love, whats wrong?”
She flinched, stared into the distance, then gave a tight smile.
“Nothing, Mum. Just tired.”
“Its more than that. Youre empty. You dont laugh anymore, your eyes are sad. I know you, Emily. Tell me the truth.”
She hesitated. Then the front door slammedGregory was home. Seeing me, his face flickered almost imperceptibly. He smiled, greeted me, but his eyes were cold, as if I were an inconvenience. And thats when I noticed itthat sickly sweet, unmistakably feminine perfume. Something floral, distinctly a womans scent.
When he took off his jacket, I spotted lipstick on his collar. Pink. I couldnt help but murmur, clear enough for him to hear:
“Gregory were you really at the office?”
He froze for a second. Then straightened, looked at me with icy calm, almost brutal, before answering:
“Janet, with all due respect, stay out of our marriage. Yes, theres another woman. But it doesnt mean anything. For a man in my position, its common. Emily knows. It doesnt change our family. We wont divorce. The children, my wifeeverythings under control. I provide, Im here. So dont dwell on details like lipstick.”
I clenched my jaw. Emily stood and slipped into the childrens room, eyes downcast. He went to shower, as if nothing had happened. My heart ached with helplessness. I went to my daughter, held her tight, and whispered:
“Emily do you think this is normal? That he sleeps with someone else and you just endure it? Is this what a family is?”
She shrugged and began to cry. Silently, as if the tears fell on their own. I stroked her back, saying nothing. There was so much I wanted to say, but it was pointless. The choice was hers. Stay with a man who thought money excused betrayal. Or choose herself.
She was trapped in this *”gilded cage,”* where, on the surface, everything was perfect. Everythingexcept respect. And love, real love, the kind without lies or contempt.
I left that night. At home, sleep was impossible. My heart was breaking. I wanted to take her and the children and run. But I knewuntil she decided, nothing would change. All I could do was be there. Wait. And hope that one day, Emily would choose herself.
