After the betrayal of his wife and friends, the once-prosperous man returned to his hometown. At his mothers grave, he froze in shock.
Oliver stopped the car. How many times had he meant to visit, yet never found the time? He hadnt been there for his mother while she lived, nor after her passing. The memory filled him with self-loathing. It would have taken so littlea shake, a wake-up callto realise the world hed built around himself was an illusion. None of his words, none of his actions, had meant a thing. In a twisted way, he was even grateful to Emily, his ex-wife, for ripping the blindfold away.
Everything had crumbled in an instant. His picture-perfect marriage, his so-called friendshipsall hollow. His wife and best friend had betrayed him, while others who knew the truth stayed silent. It was total ruin. Everyone close to him had turned their back. After the divorce, Oliver retreated to his childhood town. Eight years had passed since his mothers funeral, and not once had he visited her grave. Only now did it strike himshe had been the one person who would never betray him.
Hed married late, at thirty-three, to a woman eight years his junior. Oh, how proud hed been to have Emily by his sideelegant, refined. Later, when she screamed in his face that shed hated every moment of their short marriage, that intimacy with him had been torture, he saw how blind hed been. Her face, twisted with rage, became a grotesque mask. And yet, hed nearly faltered. Emily had wept so convincingly, begging forgiveness, claiming neglect.
But when he stood firm on the divorce, her true colours showed. Oliver stepped out of the car, clutching a lavish bouquet. Slowly, he walked the cemetery path. After all these years, the grave would surely be overgrown. He hadnt even come when the headstone was placedhandled online, distantly. A whole life could slip by like that.
To his surprise, the plot was immaculatenot a weed in sight. Someone had tended to it. Who? An old friend of his mothers, perhaps. Or maybe they were all gone by now. Had her own son really been too busy? He unlatched the gate. “Hello, Mum,” he whispered. His throat tightened, eyes stinging. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Oliverthe successful businessman, the stoic man who never criednow sobbed like a child. And he let the tears fall. They cleansed him, washing away the weight of Emily and every other failure. It was as though his mother gently stroked his hair, whispering, “There, there. Itll be alright, youll see.” He sat in silence, speaking to her in his mind. Memories surfaced: skinned knees, childish wails. His mother dabbing iodine on the cuts, blowing softly, soothing him. “All my boys scraped their knees. They heal, and youll barely remember the pain.” And they did heal. Each time, the sting grew easier to bear.
“You get used to everythingeverything but betrayal,” shed say. Now, he understood the depth of those words. Back then, theyd seemed ordinary. Now, he saw the wisdom in them. Shed raised him alone, never coddling him, yet hed turned out alright.
Time blurred. Oliver didnt check his watch, nor did he care to. A rare peace settled over him. He decided to stay in town a few days. His mothers house needed sorting. He could afford to pay a neighbour to mind it, but how long would it sit empty? A faint smile touched his lips as he recalled meeting the caretakers daughter. Back then, drowning in bitterness, hed arranged for the house to be watched over and met Charlotte. Theyd talked one evening, and things unfolded naturally. By morning, hed left, slipping a note about where to leave the key.
To Charlotte, he mightve seemed callous. But hed made no promises. It was mutual. Shed come home after divorcing a tyrant, just as broken as he was. And thenit simply happened.
“Excuse me, sir? Could you help me?” A childs voice snapped him back. Turning, he saw a girl of seven or eight holding an empty bucket.
“I need water for the flowers. Mum and I just planted them, but shes poorly today. Its so hottheyll wilt. The taps close, but the buckets too heavy. I dont want Mum knowing I came alone. If I fetch little bits, itll take ages, and shell figure it out.”
Oliver smiled. “Of course. Show me the way.”
The girl chattered nonstop. Within minutes, he knew everythinghow shed warned her mother not to drink cold water in the heat, how her mum had fallen ill anyway. Lily had come to visit her grandmothers grave, gone a year now. Gran wouldve scolded Mum, and she wouldnt be sick. Plus, Lily had just started school and dreamed of finishing with top marks.
Olivers heart lightened. Children were so pure. Now he saw ithed have been happy with a simple, loving wife and a child waiting for him at home. Emily had been like a porcelain doll, disdainful of motherhood. “Only a fool ruins her looks for a squalling baby,” shed sneered. Five years of marriage, and not one warm memory remained.
He set the bucket down, and Lily carefully watered the flowers. Oliver glanced at the headstoneand froze. The photo was of the neighbour hed hired to watch the house. Charlottes mother. His eyes darted to the girl.
“Was Margaret your grandmother?”
“Yes. Did you know her?”
“Waityou tend her grave?”
“Mum and I do. We always bring flowers.”
“Your mum?” Oliver frowned.
“Yes, my mum. I told youshe doesnt let me come alone.”
Lily grabbed the bucket, glancing around. “Id better go. Shell fuss if Im late.”
“Wait, Ill drive you.”
She shook her head. “Im not allowed in strangers cars. Dont want to upset Mumshes poorly enough.”
With a quick goodbye, she dashed off. Oliver returned to his mothers grave, sitting in quiet reflection. Something didnt add up. Charlotte hadnt lived hereshed only visited. Yet now she seemed settled, with a daughter.
Hed known nothing of a child. But how old was Lily? Perhaps Charlotte had remarried. After a while, he rose. Likely, Charlotte now cared for the house herself, and hed been paying her all along.
Did it matter? Oliver drove to his childhood home. His chest ached. The place was unchangedas if his mother might step onto the porch any second, wiping her tears with her apron before hugging him tight. He lingered in the car, half-expecting her. She didnt come.
Finally, he entered the garden. It was pristineeven the flowers were thriving. Charlotte had done well. Hed thank her properly. Inside, the house gleamed, as though someone lived there and had just stepped out. Oliver sat at the table, then stood abruptly. He needed to see the neighbour first. Settle things, then rest.
Lily answered the door. “Oh, its you!” She pressed a finger to her lips, grinning. “Mum mustnt know we met at the cemetery, okay?”
Oliver mimed locking his mouth, and she giggled.
“Come in,” Charlotte called from inside. “Im better now, but dont get too closejust in case.”
Her eyes widened when she saw him. “You?”
Oliver smiled. “Hello.”
He glanced around. “Wheres your husband?” he asked, though he already sensed the answerthe man wasnt here. Maybe never had been.
“Oliver, I Im sorry I didnt tell you about your mothers passing. Works scarce here, so Ive been tending the house myself.”
“Im sorry too, Lottie. And thank you. Coming backits like Mum just stepped out. Everythings so clean, so lived-in. Are you staying long?”
“Just a few days.”
“Any thoughts on selling the house?”
Oliver shrugged. “Havent decided yet. Lottie, here.” He pulled out an envelope. “For your care of the placea bonus, of sorts.”
He set a thick stack of notes on the table.
“Oliver, no! I cant take this.”
Lily beamed. “Thank you, Uncle Oliver! Mums wanted a new dress forever, and Id love a bicycle.”
He laughed. “Clever girl.”
Just like hed been at her agenever one to let money pass by.
By evening, Oliver realised he was ill. Fever spiked. He found his mothers old thermometer, took his temperature, and knew he needed help. Unsure what medicine to take, he texted Charlotte. “Whats good for a
