“At Least Someone Found You Worthwhile”
“You don’t need my son, Lizzie. He’ll ruin your life.”
“That’s not true, Margaret. And why do you speak about Thomas that way? He’s your only child!”
“Precisely why I’m warning you. I know my son too well to doubt my words.”
Margaret left the kitchen slowly, while Lizzie stayed seated at the table in her new evening dress. She’d put it on specially, visiting her neighbor to show off the purchase—the very dress she hoped would stun Thomas.
Lizzie had been in love with Margaret’s son for years. The feelings had taken root when she was still a girl—young, naive, but as it turned out, capable of deep devotion.
Thomas was older than Lizzie by seven years. He was seventeen when she first saw him; she was just ten. Her family had moved to Bramley from a nearby village after her father lost his job. Margaret had lived there for years, raising Thomas alone.
“Such a respectable family,” Lizzie’s mother remarked that evening after visiting Margaret. Though fifteen years older, Margaret had befriended her, and soon Lizzie and Thomas were crossing paths often.
A year after they met, Thomas left Bramley for university, while Lizzie stayed behind. She never forgot him, still visiting Margaret regularly.
Right after graduation, Thomas married—a blow to Lizzie, who had clung to the belief that he might someday love her. She had always thought marriage was forever. Her parents had been wed nearly twenty years; her grandparents had stayed together till death. Even Margaret had spoken of Thomas’s father—still legally married to her when he vanished without a trace in a warzone.
“He didn’t even introduce his wife to me,” Margaret complained bitterly over tea at Lizzie’s house. “Some city girl, full of airs.”
“Then go visit them yourself,” Lizzie’s mother suggested. “Meet your daughter-in-law, see how he’s living.”
Margaret waved her off.
“Why bother? If Thomas didn’t invite me to the wedding, he made his choice clear. I won’t chase after him.”
Lizzie pitied Margaret, but her real pain was knowing Thomas would never return to Bramley. Yet barely a year after his marriage, he did—lugging his sparse belongings back home.
“Margaret’s boy is back,” Lizzie’s mother announced after work.
Lizzie shot up, nearly knocking her over as she bolted for the door. She sprinted to Margaret’s cottage—only to collide with Thomas on the porch as he stepped out for a smoke.
“Well, if it isn’t little Lizzie!” He grinned and winked.
She noticed how much he’d changed—grown into a man. His beard was new, streaks of grey already at his temples though he was barely twenty-five.
“Hello, Thomas,” she said softly, resisting the urge to touch his face. “You’re back?”
He gave her an indifferent shrug.
“Dunno yet. Divorced now—had to come back to Mum. Lived with the wife’s parents, but nothing was ever good enough for them. Drove me mad.”
Lizzie stared, baffled. How could any woman think Thomas wasn’t perfect? Handsome, kind, clever! The city girl must’ve been the problem. No wonder Margaret never wanted to meet her.
“Maybe we could catch a film?” Lizzie suggested.
Thomas shook his head.
“Nah. Too much to do here. Mum’s got a list as long as my arm.”
She hid her disappointment. Just having him near—breathing the same air, talking, asking how she was—felt like a gift. Maybe one day he’d realize Lizzie was the one meant for him.
But Margaret wasn’t happy about his return. She tried getting him work at the local farm, then in town, but nothing suited him.
“I’m tired of his excuses,” Margaret confided later. “Now I see why his wife left. The problem wasn’t her—it was him.”
“That’s not true!” Lizzie protested hotly. “Thomas is wonderful—you just don’t understand him!”
Margaret scoffed.
“Of course I don’t know my own son! He’s selfish—just like his father.” She looked away, cutting the conversation short. Lizzie bit back her defense, unnerved by Margaret’s sorrow.
Without finding work, Thomas left Bramley months later—without even saying goodbye. Lizzie grieved, cried, and remembered him as the best man she’d ever known.
Then tragedy struck: Lizzie’s parents died in a car crash. At eighteen, she’d been set for university—now forced to abandon it. Without Margaret’s support, she might’ve drowned in grief.
Thomas returned for the funeral—with a slim, fair-haired girl gazing adoringly at him. Lizzie’s heart sank. He wasn’t alone again.
Two weeks later, Margaret offhandedly mentioned Thomas’s remarriage—a bolt from the blue. Lizzie still loved him, but any hope of them vanished.
After her parents’ deaths, Lizzie stayed in Bramley, working as a poultry keeper. She never pursued studies, clawing her way out of depression.
Then, just before New Year’s, Margaret told her Thomas was visiting.
“Is he bringing his wife?” Lizzie asked, already dreading the answer.
“No,” Margaret smirked. “You think he’d come back here if his life were in order?”
Lizzie’s heart leapt. Finally! She’d confess everything.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Margaret warned.
Lizzie, clutching her new evening dress, blinked.
“Why? I care about him—”
“Too much,” Margaret cut in. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
Her tone—bitter, regretful—silenced Lizzie. She bought the dress anyway, proudly showing Margaret.
“You don’t need my son. He’ll ruin your life.”
Lizzie stared. Did Margaret, who’d doted on Thomas, really think him unworthy? Did she not see how deeply Lizzie loved him?
On New Year’s Eve, Thomas stumbled to Lizzie’s door—drunk, surly, and fresh from a spat with Margaret. He carried two bottles of champagne and a foul mood.
“Let’s drink,” he said, ignoring her dress.
That night, he stayed. To Lizzie, it was magic. To him—a fleeting mistake.
By morning, she felt reborn. Thomas lay beside her—the man she’d waited for, saved herself for.
He left two days later without a goodbye. She wept, pestered Margaret for news, but the older woman just watched her disapprovingly.
“I warned you,” Margaret said flatly. Lizzie had no defense.
In February, she discovered she was pregnant. She took a bus to the city, catching Thomas at a café near the station.
“You get twenty minutes,” he said coldly.
The news didn’t delight him. Lizzie searched his face for joy—found only detachment.
“If you think this’ll make me marry you, forget it,” he said. “I’ve met someone. Serious plans.”
Her eyes stung. That night had been everything to her—nothing to him.
Back in Bramley, Lizzie agonized before confronting Margaret.
“You’re keeping it?” Margaret asked bluntly.
“How did you know?”
“I’m not stupid. Small village. Will you… end it?”
Lizzie lowered her eyes.
“I don’t know. I thought you might advise me. It’s Thomas’s.”
Margaret sighed, taking her hand.
“I won’t tell you what to do. Listen or don’t—your choice. Years ago, I fell for a married man. Thought I could build happiness on someone else’s pain. Got pregnant—had Thomas. Do I regret it? Yes. I could’ve married a decent man, had a family the right way. But I chose this path. Make your own mistake—not mine.”
Lizzie gaped.
“So loving Thomas was my mistake?”
“Maybe,” Margaret shrugged. “Or maybe you’ll regret ending it. Or regret bringing a child into the world unwanted. Like I did. Then you’ll spin tales—a missing father, some heroic lie.”
“Thomas’s father is alive?”
Margaret smirked.
“Alive and well. Married five times, probably. Just didn’t want me. Thomas is just like him—never even met the man.”
Lizzie left in silence. By morning, she’d resolved to keep the baby.
Her daughter, Emily, was born in October. By the next New Year, Margaret was gone—having held her granddaughter once. Thomas hadn’t visited his dying mother. Lizzie took care of everything.
At the funeral, Thomas barely acknowledged her—another woman at his side. Lizzie said nothing about Emily; he asked no questions.
He returned six months later to claim Margaret’s house and land—only to be stunned.
“Mrs. Elizabeth Collins inherited the property,” the solicitor said. “Per Margaret’s will, months ago.”
Thomas swayed.
“How? I’m her son—her blood! Why would she—?”
“I tried contacting you,” the solicitor interrupted. “Your number didn’t work. You’re still registered at your first wife’s flatThomas stormed off without another word, leaving Lizzie standing on the porch with the quiet satisfaction of knowing she had finally outgrown the love that once consumed her, and her daughter would never know the sting of his indifference.
