Should I tell her that my son doesn’t love her at all?
My name is Susan Smith, and I live in Windermere, where the Lake District whispers with the calm of Lake Windermere. I’m reaching out because my heart is heavy with worry, and I can’t find peace. I confided in my best friend, hoping for support, but instead, I got wide eyes and a sharp, “Are you out of your mind? Don’t get involved where the tide of someone else’s pain might overwhelm you!” Her words stung, but they didn’t help—I need a way out, or I’ll be suffocated by this burden.
It’s all about my son, Alex. He’s 25 and lives with his girlfriend, Lily, in our home. I have no reason to complain: they stay in his room, both have jobs, and they don’t rely on us. Lily is wonderful: polite, gentle, with a good heart. But I know my son better than anyone, and I see the truth he hides behind his smile: he doesn’t love her. Alex is caring—tender, attentive, always ready to help, fulfilling her wishes like a knight from a fairy tale. On every special occasion, he gifts her flowers and presents, and after her long shifts, he picks her up from work, even in the dead of night. When their days off sync, they escape—sometimes to the countryside to visit friends, sometimes to the mountains for skiing, or to hot springs.
Recently, Lily had a bad fall on a slope, and it was a rough one, almost breaking everything. Alex carried her to the hotel and later rushed her to the hospital in Carlisle. While she lay with her leg in a cast, he cared for her like a child: feeding, soothing, never leaving her side. To an outsider, he seems the perfect man, madly in love. But I know: it’s a facade. He doesn’t love her. His heart is silent, and it tears me apart.
Before Lily, there was someone else—Emma. Their love was like a storm: sharp edges, shouting, tears, breakups, and reconciliations. They fought fiercely, but their makeups were so passionate they shook the walls. Emma was his first true love—the kind that burns everything inside. I hoped they would settle down and adjust to each other, but she suddenly flew off to Germany, leaving him alone. For six months, Alex was a shadow of himself: wandering, lost, barely eating or sleeping. I chased after him, coaxing, watching over him like a child, fearing he wouldn’t survive. Then Lily appeared—a complete opposite of the first. She’s calm, like a lake in calm weather, a good listener, comforting, never raising her voice. She’s a light in our home, but I see: for him, it’s not love, but duty, gratitude—anything but genuine feeling.
So, here’s my agonizing question: should I tell her the truth? You might think I’m crazy, but I can’t live with this knowledge. Sooner or later, this truth will erupt like molten lava and destroy everything. I can imagine the hell awaiting this sweet, pure girl who doesn’t deserve such pain. Her heartbreak will be devastating, crushing her like a delicate flower underfoot. She’s done nothing to deserve this, yet I stand and watch as she walks toward a precipice, unaware.
My friend is right—I’m getting involved where I could get hurt. But how can I stay silent? My mother’s heart screams: save her, warn her, don’t let her shatter! I see how Lily looks at Alex—with such belief, such tenderness, that it makes my heart clench. But him? He plays a role, and plays it well, but I know his eyes—there’s no fire, nothing like there was with Emma. He is kind to her, but it isn’t love, and I can’t pretend not to see.
Sometimes I wonder: could I be mistaken? Maybe I’ve imagined that he doesn’t love her because of my fears for him? But no—I feel it in my bones, with every fiber of my being. Alex stays with her because it’s convenient, because she’s good, not because he can’t bear to be without her. And this thought gnaws at me day and night. Tell Lily? Destroy their world, which she believes is her happiness? Or stay silent until he makes the move that shatters her? I’m afraid that if I remain silent, I’ll be complicit in her hurt. But if I speak—I’ll ruin it all myself, and she’ll hate me, and my son will curse me.
Please, help me with advice! I’m not crazy, I’m just a mother who sees more than she wants to. I ache for them both—for Lily, who gives her heart to someone who won’t accept it, and for Alex for living this lie. What do I do with this truth that burns me inside? How do I protect her without losing my son? I stand at a crossroads, and every choice feels like a dagger to the heart. I beg you, tell me how to find peace in this hell I’ve created with my own thoughts.
