Love has a way of sweeping you off your feet, making everything else fade into the background until only the beloved remains. Thats what happened to Edwardhe fell for Emily and forgot the world, even his conscience and the duty he owed his mother. The choice between comfort and morality isnt always easy.
“Eddie, where will we live?” Emily asked sweetly, gazing up at him with cunning eyes.
“At my place, of course.”
“But… you live with your mum,” she pouted.
“So what? Shes kind and quietdont worry,” Edward reassured her.
Edward wasnt a boy anymore; he was well past thirty, and this would be his second marriage. His first wife had left himtheyd been too different. Shed miscalculated, thinking he earned well, hoping hed start a business. But Edward had no seed money to get going, so she walked away. At least thered been no children.
He met Emily in a café after work, celebrating his mate Olivers newborn son. Theyd had a drink when they spotted hera sad, lonely girl at a corner table.
“Love, why the long face?” Edward grinned, approaching her. “Come join usmy friend heres got a proper reason to celebrate. His boys just arrived, nearly nine pounds!”
Emily didnt hesitate. She slid into their booth.
“Congratulations,” she said, eyeing Oliver. “A sonthats good. An heir.”
After the café, Oliver went home, and Edward walked Emily back to her flat near the garment factory where she worked. She was from a tiny village, ten years his junior. That very night, he stayed over.
They dated, strolled through parks, and before he knew it, Emily had steered him toward marriage and children.
“Eddie, youre over thirty and no kids? Time to fix that,” she laughed, tired of her noisy shared flat, craving a proper home.
Edward was smitten. He proposed.
“Yes, yes!” she beamed. “When do we register?”
“Soon. But first, move in with me and Mum.”
“No, Eddie. I wont live with your mother. Ive heard too many horror stories about mothers-in-law. Lets rent our own place.”
“Emily, love, I cant afford that. Wed have nothing left. Finewell figure something else out.”
Margaret sat by the kitchen window, watching the first snowflakes drift down. She wasnt wellretired now, after decades teaching maths. Shed have worked longer, but her health had failed. The ambulance had come more than once.
That evening, Edward arrived with Emily. Theyd met beforeshed visited twice, never speaking to Margaret beyond a muttered hello before vanishing into Edwards room, her laughter echoing. She left without a goodbye, never glancing Margarets way.
“Mum, Emily and I are getting married. Shell live here…” He hesitated, then added, “And… she doesnt want you here. Ive arranged a care homegood place, doctors on hand. You understand, dont you? We need our space.”
The world is cruelsometimes you can brush off ageing parents, tuck them away in homes, forget them in the comfort of your own life. Forget the debt owed to those who once stayed up nights at your bedside, who gave their last penny and believed in you. Edward hadnt considered that.
“I… understand, son,” Margaret whispered, feeling something tear inside her chest.
She packed her meagre belongings into an old suitcase, and Edward took her… to the care home, outside London.
Now her life was measured in that small room, where she sat by the window, a worn photo of Edward the only remnant of her past.
She hopedsome stubborn ember in her heart still burnedthat her son would return. Shed been widowed at thirty-six, raising Eddie alone. Her life had revolved around him, working two jobs so hed want for nothing.
“Eddie,” she often whispered to the photo, tears slipping free.
Time passed. Edward never came. Life with Emily was livelywithin months, she began coming home tipsy, staying out late.
“Emily, where do you even go? Your husbands waiting.”
“Just out with the girlsVeronicas birthday,” she slurred, careless.
“I married you for a wife, not a pub crawler.”
“Dont lecture me. I know what Im doing. You wont starveyou can cook.” She laughed, stumbling to bed.
A year later, Edward divorced herand remembered his duty.
“God, this is my punishment… I threw Mum away and never even checked on her…”
Then, one day, in the quiet of his comfortable life, conscience spoke. Edward finally heard it.
Margaret sat in her armchair by the window, studying the grey sky, when the door creaked open.
“Mum…”
She turnedand didnt believe her eyes. There stood Edward, gaunt, shadows under his eyes.
“Eddie, whats wrong? Are you ill?” she gasped, forgetting every hurt.
“Mum, forgive me… I shouldnt have” His voice broke. “I was a wretch. I treated you horribly. Please…”
He sank to his knees.
“Emily… she wasnt who I thought. She was seeing other men, always out with friends. Stopped working, sometimes didnt come home… She left me for someone else. I filed for divorce.”
Margaret listened silently, stroking his hair.
“Mum, I abandoned you for her… How could I?” He wept, gripping her frail shoulders.
“Its alright, son. You came back. Thats what matters.”
“Pack your things. Im taking you home.”
Margaret returned to her flat, where the ghost of perfume still lingered. They lived together again. Edward tried desperately to make amends.
“Mum, look what I got you.” He brought giftsa warm blanket, a cosy jumper, an orthopaedic pillow.
“You shouldnt spend so much,” she chided gently.
“I want you comfortable. You lived for me all those years. Im glad I realised in time. Well be alright now.” His voice was firm. “Ive a better jobhigher pay. Well get a bigger flat, your own room.”
“Im so proud of you. But you must marry againdont live just for me.”
“Alright, Mum. Theres Veronica. Weve been seeing each other.”
The next evening, Edward brought Veronica home, hand in hand.
“Hello, Margaret,” she said warmly, her grey eyes kind. “I baked an apple pie for you.”
“Oh, love, you shouldnt have!”
“Its no trouble,” Veronica smiled as Edward fetched the teacups.
Later, Margaret asked, “Eddie, does Veronica mind me living with you?”
He flushed. “Mum, when I told her about the care home, she near tore me apart. Shamed me proper. I had to tell her myselfbetter than her hearing it elsewhere.”
For the first time in years, warmth bloomed in Margarets chest. Not all was lostgood people still existed. Soon, evenings were spent with tea and Veronicas piesapple, cherry. They lived as three, kindly and close.
If Margaret dozed in her chair, Veronica draped a blanket over her, and shed murmur, “Thank you, darling.”
Edward finally understoodhome wasnt walls, but those who waited for you, no matter what.
One dinner, Veronica beamed. “Mum, Eddie… Im expecting.”
Margaret cried. “Oh, Ive waited so long! This is joy, my dear!”
Edward, stunned, leapt up, kissing Veronica. “I adore you!”
“Youre not so bad yourself,” she laughed.
That night, Edward lay awake.
“Its never too late to set things right. Mums still hereI got a second chance.”
Time passed. Veronica gave Margaret a grandsonand Edward a son. Laughter filled the flat. Two years later, they moved to a bright, spacious homea nursery, and a room just for Margaret.
How wonderfulsometimes, whats lost can still be found.
