Should I tell her that my son doesn’t love her at all?
My name is Sarah Thompson, and I live in the quiet town of Windermere in the heart of the Lake District. I’m writing because I’m overwhelmed with worry and can’t find peace. I confided in my dearest friend, only to be met with wide-eyed disbelief and a curt, “Have you completely lost it? Don’t meddle in what isn’t your business or you’ll drown in someone else’s sorrow!” Her words stung yet offered no comfort—I need to find a solution or I’ll be crushed by the weight of this burden.
The issue lies with my son, Andrew. He’s 25 and lives with his girlfriend, Emily, in our house. I have no reason to complain: they share his room, both have jobs, and aren’t a financial burden. Emily is a gem—polite, gentle, with a kind heart. But I know my son better than anyone, and I see the truth hidden behind his smile: he doesn’t love her. Andrew is caring—kind, attentive, always willing to help. He fulfills her wishes like a knight from a fairy tale, gifting her flowers and presents on every occasion, picking her up from work after late shifts, even in the middle of the night. When they have time off together, they travel—to visit friends in the countryside, ski in the mountains, or relax in hot springs.
Recently, Emily took a nasty fall while skiing. Andrew carried her down the slope to the hotel, then raced to the hospital in London. While she was bedridden with her leg in a cast, he looked after her like a child: feeding, comforting, never leaving her side. An ideal man, seemingly head over heels in love. But I know it’s a facade. He doesn’t love her. His heart is silent, and it’s tearing me apart.
Before Emily, there was another—Sophia. Their love was tempestuous: sharp corners, shouting, tears, breakups, and makeups. They fought for dear life and reconciled with such passion the walls shook. Sophia was his first real love—the kind that burns everything inside. I hoped they would settle, find a balance, but she suddenly left for Germany, leaving him alone. Andrew was a shell for half a year—lost, barely eating or sleeping. I fretted over him, coddled him like a child, fearing he wouldn’t survive. Then Emily came into his life—she’s completely the opposite of the first. Calm as a still lake, she listens, comforts, never raises her voice. She’s the light in our home, but I can see it’s not love for him—it’s duty, gratitude, anything but genuine feeling.
And so, my tormenting question: should I tell her the truth? You may call me mad, but I can’t live with this knowledge. Sooner or later, the truth will erupt like boiling lava, destroying everything. I can’t bear to imagine the hell awaiting this sweet, innocent girl who doesn’t deserve such pain. Her devastation will be crushing, like a delicate flower trampled underfoot. She did nothing to deserve this, yet I stand by, watching her head towards a chasm, unaware of what lies ahead.
My friend is right—I risk burning myself by getting involved. But how do I stay silent? My motherly instincts scream: save her, warn her, don’t let her be shattered! I see Emily gazing at Andrew with such faith, such tenderness, it makes my heart ache. And him? He’s playing a part and doing it expertly, but I know his eyes—there’s no fire, none of what was there with Sophia. He’s kind to her, but this isn’t love, and I can’t pretend not to notice it.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m wrong. Maybe I’ve imagined his lack of love, driven by my fears for him. But no—I feel it in my bones. Andrew is with her because it’s comfortable, because she’s good, not because he can’t breathe without her. This thought gnaws at me day and night. Should I tell Emily? Destroy the world she believes is her happiness? Or remain silent, waiting for him to make a move that will destroy her? I fear my silence will make me complicit in her pain. Yet if I speak, I’ll break everything myself, and she will hate me, while my son curses me.
Please, help me with advice! I’m not crazy; I’m just a mother seeing more than I wish to bear. It hurts for both of them—for Emily, who gives her heart to someone who won’t take it, and for Andrew, living in this lie. What do I do with this truth burning me inside? How can I protect her without losing my son? I stand at a crossroads, and each choice is like a knife to the heart. I beg you, show me how to find peace in this torment I’ve created with my thoughts.
