A Mothers Heart
Edward sits at the kitchen table, settling into his usual spot. In front of him is a deep bowl filled with his mums famous beef stew rich, fragrant, with a hint of herbs and that unique tang he always associates with home.
With each gentle movement of the spoon from bowl to mouth, Edward finds his thoughts drifting. He cant help but think about how much his life has changed in recent years. Now, he has the means to have breakfast in swanky city cafés, lunch in Michelin-starred restaurants, and dinner in places with chefs who seem to treat food like a chemistry experiment. If he wanted oysters from Cornwall, truffles from France, Wagyu beef he could have it all. Yet, for all the culinary paradise at his fingertips, nothing quite matches his mums warming stew.
Dainty sauces, rare spices, fancy plating it all feels hollow compared to the simplicity and comfort of this meal. In his mums stew, theres more than just ingredients and a recipe. He can feel the care in every bite, the memory of easy childhood days, the warmth of her hands in the making. Edward knows no matter which restaurants he visits, no matter what delicacies he samples, for him, therell never be a better kitchen than his mums.
As he ponders, Mary walks into the kitchen. Placing a mug of tea in front of him, shes careful not to make a fuss. Today, she seems anxious, her brow a little furrowed.
Edward, when do you need to leave? she asks.
Edward looks up from his stew, offers a reassuring smile, and says, Tomorrow morning. My cars given up the ghost, so Ill be going with Simon.
He takes a moment to look at his mother. He likes how she looks now healthy, refreshed, with a faint blush in her cheeks; no one would guess shed passed fifty. Its only a couple of hours drive, honestly. Dont worry, Mum, he adds, trying to put her at ease.
Mary freezes, gripping the edge of the table like she needs something to steady herself. The room falls quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.
With Simon, she repeats softly, almost whispering. Her face loses colour. No, Eddie, Id rather you didnt go with him.
Edward frowns. He hasnt seen his mum look like this in years normally shes calm and level-headed, but now she seems genuinely frightened. Setting down his spoon, he focuses all his attention on her.
You dont even know who I mean, he says, trying to keep his tone light but failing to hide a note of concern. Hes searching for whats really behind her worry. Itll be fine, youll see. Its only Simon, you remember him from school? Hes always careful, never breaks the speed limit, drives a reliable German car. The number plate is lucky too triple sevens.
Mary slowly comes over to him, her movements heavy. She takes his hand; her fingers are icy against his warmth.
Please, love, her voice trembles but she tries to steady it, why dont you just order a taxi instead? I have a funny feeling about it. Ill be worrying myself sick.
And what if the taxi drivers dodgy? Edward tries a little joke, forcing a smile. Mum, you worry far too much. Ill ring you as soon as I arrive, promise. The second I step out of the car. You wont even have a chance to miss me.
He kisses Marys cheek, feeling her anxiety seep into him. He hugs her tight, trying to pour all the reassurance he can into that embrace. She clings to him for a moment, as if trying to remember the warmth, then gently lets go.
Its alright, Mum, really, he says, gazing into her eyes. I promise.
Leaving the house, Edward strolls down his childhood street. The evening is quiet; the air has that crisp, clean feel. Street lights have just flicked on, spilling golden pools onto the pavement. Home is only a few minutes walk away. He ambles slowly, thinking over the trip ahead. His mothers worried face keeps flashing in his mind, but he tries to push the unease away.
When he gets home, the flat is quiet and welcoming. He heads straight to his bedroom, where his overnight bag is already packed on the bed. Everythings ready. Satisfied, he slides the bag near the door so he wont waste any time in the morning.
He checks the alarm clock on his bedside table one last time. Quarter to ten. Up at six tomorrow, dont oversleep, he tells himself, as if repeating it will make it stick.
Edward undresses, slips into bed, and turns off the lamp. In the darkness, he lies awake, listening to the muffled sounds of London passing by outside. His thoughts keep returning to his mum he imagines her at home, probably lying awake too, worrying. To distract himself, he goes back over his morning routine in his head: get up, shower, have coffee, eat breakfast, check his presentation one last time Eventually, his mind slows, and sleep carries him off.
*****************
The morning doesnt go at all as Edward planned. Sunlight slices through the curtains, and he blinks awake, unsure whats roused him. Then he glances at the clock. Five to nine.
Damn! he mutters, springing upright, frustration flaring inside. He grabs the alarm and flings it aside; the hands seem to mock him hes clearly overslept. Why didnt Simon call? We agreed, didnt we?
His mobile lies on the bedside table. He reaches for it and finds it switched off odd, as he remembers charging it and definitely didnt turn it off. The battery shouldnt be dead after one night. Puzzled, he powers it up, and it immediately pings with a stream of missed messages.
The first is from Simon, timestamped eight oclock:
Ed, where are you? Been outside for fifteen minutes. If youre not out in ten, Ill have to go alone. Got a long drive ahead, cant hang about.
Ed, you coming or not? Call me.
Sorry mate, Im off. Cant wait any longer.
Edward freezes, processing this. So Simon really did turn up, waited, tried to ring But he overslept and let him down. Instantly, he remembers his mums face the night before she had a hunch, told him not to go with Simon. Too late now.
He jumps out of bed, running over his options. Times nearly gone maybe he should just order a taxi or see if he can hire a car last minute.
Muttering under his breath, Edward thinks about ringing Simon to apologise and explain, or to arrange a new time. Then he sees a string of missed calls. Mum more than twenty times, back to back with barely a pause.
A heavy sense of dread clenches his stomach. Without thinking, Edward grabs his keys and, not bothering to pack again, dashes out the door. The thought pounds in his head: Please, let Mum be alright. He parts the distance to his old family home in about ninety seconds.
The doors not locked. He bursts into the hallway, catching his breath from the sprint. His chest heaves, his heart thumps against his ribs.
Mum, are you alright? he shouts, eyes darting around, voice louder than he means, but fear wont let him be calm.
Mary is in the sitting room. Shes pale, eyes red and puffy, face drawn and haggard in a way hes never seen. When she sees him, her eyes widen as though she cant believe hes real.
Eddie, she whispers, voice shaking as she stands. Is it really you? Oh, thank God
Edward stands stock still, confused. He hasnt seen his mum cry since he was small, and her distress totally throws him. He wants to comfort her, but isnt sure where to start.
Whats happened, Mum? he asks gently, stepping closer and taking her hand cold, trembling. Why are you so scared? Tell me everything.
Just then, the television murmurs behind them, the newsreaders voice level and emotionless:
Theres been a serious accident near Guildford. According to early reports, four vehicles were involved. Only one survivor the driver of an Audi
Edwards head whips towards the screen. Scenes flash across: mangled cars, belongings scattered, flashing lights of ambulances and police. He watches, almost in slow motion, until he spots a white Audi with the reg plate 777.
The chill runs deep through his core. He recognises the car. Simons.
All at once, he understands his mum saw the crash report, spotted Simons car, and, when Edward didnt answer his phone, she feared the worst. He realises how much shes been through in the last hour.
Mum, its me, Im here, Im alright, he says as calmly as he can, willing his voice not to betray his nerves. He gently helps her back into a chair, then runs to the kitchen for a glass of water. He brings her the drink and kneels by her side. Here, have a sip. Look at me Im right here. Everythings fine.
Marys hands shake as she sets the glass down, untouched. She clings to his sleeve, desperate for reassurance, and buries her face in his shoulder he feels her silent sobs shuddering through her.
I was so frightened her words barely more than a breath, broken by emotion. The news said only the Audi driver survived. And you wouldnt answer, I rang and rang I thought I thought Id lost you for good
He hugs her tightly, gently stroking her back, as he once did when shed been upset and he was a boy. He can feel her tension slowly ebb, but knows shell need time to trust that it really is all over.
My mobile died, alarm didnt go off I slept through everything, he explains softly, hoping to sound steady. But Im fine, Mum. Honestly. Im right here.
He sits back, studying her pale, tear-streaked face, realising it might not be enough just to be here and say it. He pulls out his phone, dials 999, and waits for an answer.
Ambulance, please, he says, trying to keep his nerves out of his voice. My mums had a shock, shes not well. Chest pain, palpitations. The address is Yes, well wait.
He hangs up and sits again, holding her hand. They stay quiet until the sound of approaching sirens fills the street. Edward watches his mothers half-closed eyes, promising himself silently: Everything will be alright. Now it really will.
The paramedics arrive within ten minutes Edwards surprised at how quick they are. A man in a white uniform comes in, direct but calm.
How are you feeling? he asks Mary, retrieving his blood pressure cuff. Any dizziness? Nausea?
Mary tries to answer, but just nods. Edward stands nearby, poised to help if needed.
A few minutes later, the paramedic packs up and turns to Edward with a serious expression. You should take her to hospital. That was a real shock, and her age means we cant take chances. Its best if shes checked over for a day or so.
Of course, absolutely, Edward replies immediately. Ill drive her to a private clinic better care and more comfortable.
The paramedic glances at him, raising an eyebrow, but shrugs. If you can, why not? Money can make a difference, especially with health.
Alright then. Ill write a note for you to speed up her admission.
He quickly fills out a form, signs, stamps, and checks that the sedative is taking effect Marys breathing is steadier; her colours already better.
Shell be fine, he says more gently now, to them both. Try not to worry.
Edward thanks him, helps his mum gather a few things, and mentally calculates the fastest route to the clinic and which paperwork theyll need.
At the hospital, Mary is admitted straight away. As soon as they arrive at the admissions desk, a nurse greets them and escorts Mary for an initial assessment. A middle-aged doctor with a steady, confident manner soon follows.
After pleasantries, he checks Marys blood pressure and pulse, asks about her symptoms and history. His voice is calm, professional, never cold the assurance that only comes with experience.
After a careful examination, he nods and says, Just to be sure, well run some tests. Nothing too serious at the moment, but best to be thorough.
Edward sits by her side, his own hand wrapped around hers. Outwardly, he tries to mask his anxiety. Her fingers are cool, her expression tired, and his heart thuds with worry.
Its all going to be alright, he tells her, again and again, looking into her eyes. Youve just had a big fright, thats all. Theyll check everything, and then you can come home.
Mary manages a faint smile. Shes still pale, but the wild panic in her eyes has faded. She squeezes his hand to show she hears him and shes truly trying to believe him.
I just knew something was wrong, she says in a low voice. A mothers intuition its never let me down.
Edward swallows; her words sting with guilt. He suddenly feels the full weight of her love shes given so much over the years, her time, her strength, even her health, so he could have every opportunity. Today, he very nearly made her face her worst fear: losing her only child.
Im sorry for scaring you, he whispers, his throat tight. Ill never ignore your instincts again, I promise.
Mary lifts a gentle hand and strokes his cheek the same touch that soothed him after scraped knees or poor marks at school.
All that matters is youre alive, she says, simply, but theres so much warmth and love in her voice that he feels the last of his tension melting away. Nothing else matters.
As they wait to be called for tests, Edward continues to hold her hand. The corridor is busy doctors, nurses, patients moving to and fro but for the two of them, there is only the quiet space of their conversation, the shared warmth, the certainty that together, theyll weather anything.
********************
Edward sticks close to Mary. At one point, he takes out his phone and calls his manager. He calmly explains his mums had a terrible fright, shes in hospital, hell be staying with her for now.
The manager listens without interruption, then sighs and says with real understanding, I get it, truly. Dont worry about the trip, Ill cover it myself. What matters is your mums wellbeing.
Thank you, Edward says quietly, grateful.
If you need anything prescriptions, help with paperwork call me, the manager offers kindly.
Edward thanks him, but declines. He knows his colleagues mean well, but for now, the only thing that matters is being by his mums side. Being here, alive, breathing, holding her hand he knows its the best medicine.
The days pass slowly but peacefully on the hospital ward. Each morning brings the doctors rounds, then tests, then chats with the staff. Mary is steadily recovering: her colour is returning, her voice is stronger, her eyes less troubled. Still, the doctors suggest she remains in hospital a bit longer, just to be safe.
Edward spends the nights in an uncomfortable armchair beside her bed. At first, he barely sleeps, but little by little he gets used to it. What matters most is he can see his mum breathe, wake up, smile at him every morning.
One evening, as the sun sets and the room fills with golden light, Mary finally speaks whats long been on her mind, her voice small but firm, as if shes finally found the courage.
You know, Ive always feared youd leave and never look back.
Edward looks up, startled, and sees a different side of his mother not just the caring parent, but a woman whos lived with a quiet worry for years.
Why would you think that? he asks gently, with genuine curiosity.
Because youve always been so independent, Mary says, smiling a little. Even as a little boy, you never wanted help tying your own shoelaces, packing your own schoolbag. I was proud of you, Ed, I really was. But sometimes I felt like I was losing you to the world, that you were no longer my little boy but a grown man making his own way.
Edward listens in silence, his heart warming. He realises he never considered his independence could bring her both pride and pain. He always thought he was doing right learning, working hard, keeping his troubles to himself.
He squeezes her hand gently, the way she used to hold his when they crossed the road together.
Im not going anywhere, he says quietly, with conviction. Youll always be the most important person to me. I just never knew you felt this way. Im sorry.
Mary pats his fingers tenderly and replies, But now you do. Thats a relief.
Edward holds her hand, so familiar, still cool at the fingertips. He gives it a tender squeeze, afraid to let go, and looks her straight in the eye.
Mum, Ill never leave you. Youre the best thing in my life, he says, in a voice full of sincerity.
Marys smile trembles, but shines, and fresh tears glisten in her eyes not of fear, but of relief and joy. She strokes his hand once more, making sure hes really there, and everything is truly alright.
I only want your happiness, she says softly. A family, children of your own I hope you know youll always have people who love you and who you can trust.
Edward thinks for a moment, and Ellas face pops into his mind the woman hes been seeing for a month and a half, a colleague from work, quiet and thoughtful, always ready with a kind word when he needs it most. Yet, whenever he thought of telling his mum about her, something always stopped him maybe he feared shed believe she was being replaced, or maybe the words just escaped him.
Theres someone, actually, he admits, hesitating but pressing on. Ella. She works with me. Shes different. With her, its easy but I feel she understands me in a way others never have.
Mary perks up at once, her eyes brightening with interest and her usual warm smile blossoming.
Tell me about her, she urges, sitting up a little straighter.
So Edward does. He takes his time, carefully describing Ella, hoping his mum can picture her as he sees her. With each story, he feels lighter, as if hes finally sharing a secret hes held inside too long.
I think shes right for me, he says, smiling shyly. But I was afraid to say anything. I thought youd worry Id forget you, that everything would change
Mary chuckles soft and genuine, without an ounce of hurt.
Silly boy, she says, giving his arm a playful slap. Id be thrilled if you found someone who makes you happy. When have I ever stood in the way of your life? All I want is your happiness. Just dont forget that your mum loves you and will always be here, no matter what.
Edward grins, in a way he hasnt in a long time, sensing the last remnants of tension melting away.
I wont ever forget. And thank you for understanding.That night, for the first time since the accident, Edward leaves the hospital for an hour, phone in hand, heart thrumming with a new kind of anticipation. Outside, an evening breeze stirs, carrying faint traces of spring and the promise of change. The city moves around him, lights blinking on in windows, voices and laughter drifting from cafés and pubs. He calls Ella, voice trembling slightly.
Hi, its me, he says. I needed to hear your voice. Can I see you tomorrow? I want you to meet someone important.
She laughs softly, sensing the weight behind his words. Id like that very much.
Edward ends the call and stands for a moment in the lamplight, feeling a quiet certainty settle within him. Theres fear, yesfear of new roles, fear that the world might change too fastbut also hope, and the deep-rooted comfort of an unbreakable bond.
When he returns to Marys side, he finds her asleep, her features soft in the glow of the bedside lamp. He sits beside her, watching her chest rise and falleach breath a gentle miracle, each heartbeat a thread tying his present to every memory of her warmth and care. He lays his hand over hers; she stirs, eyelids fluttering.
Back so soon? she murmurs.
I called Ella. Shes coming tomorrow, he whispers.
Mary smiles, and in that moment, all her fears, all his regrets, and all the dark shadows of what might have been begin to fall away.
See, love? she says, squeezing his hand. Sometimes, you have to trust a mothers heart. But its your turn, now. Make your own family. Love boldly. And dont forgetwhen you come home, therell always be stew on the table, and a light in the window for you.
In the hush that follows, Edward feels time slowa seal over the days pain, a gentle promise of tomorrows. He realizes that lovethe kind that is cooked into stew, spoken in whispers late at night, or felt in a simple hand squeezeisnt just what saves us in dark moments. Its the ordinary magic that keeps us going.
He sits there, watching over his mother, and at last, truly understands: some bonds never break, no matter how far we roam. Some heartsespecially a mothersare homes we never leave.
Outside, the city breathes on, indifferent and eternal. In their small room, Edward leans forward, rests his head beside his mothers, and lets himself, with quiet gratitude, simply belong.
