**Instead of Me**
“I don’t want to go to Dad’s… Aunt Laura said he doesn’t love me anymore,” Max hugged his knees and buried his face in them, sitting on the bed.
Emily froze. Everything seemed normal—his crumpled dinosaur pyjamas, the toy-filled rucksack in the corner, his coat draped over the chair. All so familiar and cosy. But her son wasn’t racing around the house as usual. He was curled up, withdrawn.
Today, he was meant to visit his father but suddenly begged to stay home. Lately, he’d lost enthusiasm for these trips. Emily tried to persuade him, but Max blurted out something unsettling—Laura, Tom’s new girlfriend, had been unkind.
“Max…” Emily sat beside him gently. “Tell me what happened, love.”
He stayed silent, then lifted his head just enough to peer up at her. His gaze held a weariness far beyond his five years, as if he were an adult no one believed.
“I was just playing… She got mad because the toy was loud. That robot, remember? She took it and said Dad’s having another baby soon—that he’ll forget me. That I’m… in the way.” His breath hitched. “And if I tell anyone, they’ll think I’m lying. Because Aunt Laura’s grown-up. They’ll believe her.”
His words were slow, stumbling, nearly breaking into sobs. Anger, fear, and guilt boiled inside Emily. A sickly dread clawed at her throat. Max turned away, picking at the bedsheet. She reached for his hand.
“I believe you. Know why? Because you never lie. Well… except about sneaking sweets.”
He gave a weak snort but didn’t smile.
“Dad chose her instead of me.”
“Dad just doesn’t know the truth yet,” Emily said firmly. “But he’ll understand. I promise.”
Later, after tucking Max in, Emily sipped tea in the quiet. A memory surfaced—her first encounter with Laura, if it could be called that. A year ago, an anonymous message: *”Evening! No introductions—just know I’m a friend. If you’re curious where your husband spends his nights, come Monday at seven to The Oak, table by the window.”*
Back then, Emily wondered who the “friend” was. Now she knew: Laura. A friend with fangs.
That night, she’d seen it all: Tom across from Laura, their hands intertwined, the kiss on her cheek. He’d mumbled excuses—”work meeting,” “just a friend,” finally “nothing serious.” But Emily couldn’t forgive betrayal.
They split. But Max remained. And so did Laura, who became Tom’s wife.
Her image was flawless: sugary kindness, perfect manners, a natural with kids. She even gave Max gifts—puzzles, dinosaur kits, a giant stuffed turtle. But those weren’t for him. They were for Tom. Laura wasn’t winning a child’s affection; she was securing a man’s loyalty.
She’d miscalculated one thing: Emily might’ve stepped aside for a man. But never for her son’s happiness.
The fridge held tomorrow’s to-do list, but Emily had one more task tonight. She stared at her phone before calling. Tom answered, irritation lacing his voice. “Something urgent?”
“Very. We need to talk. About Max.”
He tensed. “Is he hurt?”
“No. He refuses to visit you anymore. Says Laura tells him awful things—that you’ll replace him with a new baby.”
Silence. Then, sharp defensiveness: “Emily, come on! You honestly expect me to believe this rubbish? You’re twisting him against us!”
“I’m his mother. I listen. You clearly don’t,” she fired back. “He was terrified to tell you. And now I see why.”
“You’re using him!” Tom spat. “You want him to hate us so I’ll come crawling back. Pathetic.”
Her pulse throbbed. This was Tom—not a bad father, but forever the martyr, blind where Laura was concerned.
“He’s being hurt, and you’re defending her. Laura tells him he’s unwanted. Is that okay with you?”
“She’d never say that. You’re jealous. Deluded.”
“Deluded?” Emily laughed coldly. “To your face, she’s all sweetness. Alone with me? ‘He chose *me*.’ ‘You couldn’t keep him.’ ‘Single mum with baggage.’ I’ve heard it. And now she’s doing it to Max.”
His denials continued, but she barely listened. The call ended abruptly—a mercy.
She wouldn’t let this continue. She couldn’t cut Tom out, but she’d shield Max.
The next morning, she texted Tom: *”Meetings on neutral ground only. Without her.”* He read it. Didn’t reply. Days later, he proposed a cinema trip.
Emily hesitated but agreed.
Tom arrived at lunch with chocolates for her and gummy bears for Max. His smile was stiff, an attempt at peace. Emily stayed neutral—for Max’s sake.
“Just the cinema, yeah?” Tom said as Max fetched his coat. “No Laura. Just me and him.”
She nodded. “Back by seven.”
Max glanced back at the door. Emily forced a smile.
On the way, Tom’s phone rang—his mate Dave. “Need help shifting my old sofa. Pizza and beers in it for you!”
Tom detoured.
“Dad, the cinema?”
“Quick stop at ours. Won’t tell Mum, eh?”
Max sighed, staring out the window.
At the flat, Laura greeted them with saccharine glee. “Maxie! Missed you! Fancy juice and biscuits? Chocolate—your favourite!”
Her voice dripped syrup. Max followed silently. Tom lingered, then left.
Halfway downstairs, he paused. Emily’s words echoed. He crept back.
The door opened silently. Laura’s voice, now razor-edged:
“Sit. No tears. Think anyone wants you here? Dad pities you. He’ll have a *real* son soon. You? Back to Mummy’s.”
Tom stepped inside, pale. Laura spun around, sugar-coating returning:
“We’re playing! Max is brilliant—a proper little actor!”
Tom’s face darkened. He placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
Max looked up, tears brimming—but surprise flickered there, too. Hope.
Laura babbled about forgotten biscuits. Tom ignored her.
He didn’t divorce her, but things changed. Cinema trips. Cafés. Grandma’s. Laura was excluded. No apologies came, but the accusations stopped.
Emily never learned what happened. But she felt the shift.
Months later, picking Max up from school, she bumped into Tom. A teddy bear peeked from his shopping bag. They exchanged nods.
Not a reunited family. But allies again—both loving Max, keeping him safe.
**Sometimes, the quietest truths speak the loudest. And love isn’t about staying—it’s about choosing to protect, even when it’s hard.**
