June 5
Ive often thought how the first five years after Emma and I married were filled with whispered hopes of a child. When little Simon arrived, it felt as though destiny herself had given us a silent blessing. We poured everything into himour love, our spare time, the ambitions we never fulfilled, and, most of all, a set of principles carved in stone.
Above all, be honest, lad, I would say as Andrew read bedtime stories of heroic deeds.
Integrity is what makes a person respectable, Andrew would echo, flipping through Simons diary.
Simon grew up far beyond his yearsprincipled, diligent, earnest. He soaked up our teachings like a sponge, determined to embody the ideals we set for him. He earned a gold medal at school, secured a place at a prestigious economics faculty, and graduated with firstclass honours. Teachers praised our parenting, neighbours sighed with envy.
Dont worry, Mum, Simon reassured me when I fretted about university temptations. I have no time for that. I must focus on learning.
He truly excelled, topping his cohort and obtaining his degree with distinction. A job followed quickly; he spent long hours in the office, returning home late, eyes weary yet burning with a righteous fire.
Someones taken notice of me, he told us one evening, pride evident. Theyve entrusted me with a major project.
Then came the moment we had both anticipated and feared. One Sunday morning Simon turned up unexpectedly, off his usual schedule, bearing news that made my heart clamp with sudden joy.
Mom, Dad, Ive met someone. Her name is Lucy. Were planning to rent a flat together.
His voice trembled, a tender, almost childlike uncertainty I hadnt heard in years.
Lucy appeared at our house the following Sundayunassuming, with calm, intelligent eyes. She spoke politely, without any hint of ingratiation, and it was clear she loved Simon; she smiled warmly whenever he spoke.
She comes from a good family, I whispered to Andrew later in the kitchen as Simon saw Lucy off to the cab. Her father is an engineer, her mother a teacher. And the way she looks at him its a good look.
Andrew, usually restrained, let out a low chuckle. Hes turned into a proper lad around her. I havent seen him that alive in ages.
Lucy soon became part of our daily life. She brought over cakes, helped me in the kitchen, debated politics with Andrew. We watched Simon blossom beside her. The stern, singleminded son wed raised began to joke, laugh, plan trips together. Most importantly, his eyes now held something no career or accolade could provide: simple human happiness.
Six months after they met, Simon and Lucy arrived handinhand, visibly excited.
Weve decided to marry, Simon announced, and Lucy nodded, her face radiant.
He added carefully, glancing toward the sideboard, Were already looking at flats with a mortgage, of course. The deposit Id be grateful if you could help us out.
A hush fell. For ten years we had been saving for our dream housea modest cottage in the countrysideabout thirty thousand pounds. The silence was broken by me. I looked at Lucys hopeful face, then at our son, and my heart fluttered.
Were actually putting away for a country home ourselves, I said slowly. But for you well think about it.
Our think about it didnt last long. That evening, lying in bed, I whispered to Andrew, Theyre genuine, arent they? You can see itshe loves him.
Andrew sighed, his eyes softening. Theyre our continuation, he murmured. They deserve their own home, their own foundation.
The threefigure sum we had hoarded for a decade dissolved in that moment. For the sake of our child, we told each other, and those words carried both sacrifice and an investment in a future we hoped would be perfect.
For the next few weeks the four of us operated as a single team: scanning listings, attending viewings, debating floor plans. Finally we found a bright twobedroom flat in a newly developed area.
That evening, standing on the threshold of the new flat, Andrew handed Simon the keys with pride. Consider this your wedding present, so you can head straight from the registry office to your own home.
Simon embraced us, gratitude shining in his eyes. Now we just need furniture, to make it ours, then well register everything.
Everything felt perfect.
Half a year later the wedding haze cleared like smoke. Simon showed up at our door, pale, dark circles under his eyes.
Lucy she left. Said she couldnt bear it any longer. That Im not the person I pretended to be.
I gasped, clutching my chest. Andrew wrapped his arms around our son. Hang in there, lad. Things happen Youll come back to us, settle down, pull yourself together.
Yes, Dad, Simon whispered. I want to come home.
He did, with just a rucksack.
I noticed with a pang that he hadnt even taken his books from the new flat. A week later anxiety gnawed at us. Andrew called Lucy. After a long ring, she answered, sounding weary. Andrew Im sorry. I tried to get him treatment for a year. He kept losing, I couldnt go on.
An hour later Andrew knocked on the door of the flat. A stranger opened. The flats sold, he said politely. Weve already moved in.
Andrew spent two hours on a bench outside, his mind empty, a hollow feeling settling in. I was in the living room, knitting a scarf for Simon while a drama unfolded on the telly. The flats gone, Andrew exhaled. He sold it. Hes lost.
Simon stood in the doorway, his expression a mixture of fear and hardened resolve. Dad, Mum I need to explain.
There was no love leftwell, there had been, but Lucy walked away when she realised what I was becoming. My career had already vanished; Id been dismissed months earlier.
Id started gambling to ease the stress, placing tiny bets. Then the rush, the first real adrenaline Id felt. Then debtssmall at first, then astronomical. I took out loans, mortgaged everything I could. In the end, all that remained was the flata gift from my parents. I sold their shared dream, the very foundation theyd built for Lucy and me.
I thought I could bounce back! One big win and Id pay everything back, buy it again! But
I fell silent, staring at the floor. Ive hit rock bottom. Ive lost everything. I want a fresh start.
Andrew stayed quiet, watching the son hed once seen as the embodiment of his hopes, now a stranger. He saw a liar who had performed a yearlong charade, looking Lucy in the eye, knowing where this would all end.
I was the first to break the silence. My voice trembled, You made us believe in this happiness. You used her, used us. You watched us pick a flat, knowing how it would turn out. Who are you now?
Simon lifted his gaze, a trace of old childhood hurt flashing through his eyes. I am what you raiseda perfect robot. And robots, Mum, Dad, dont know how to ask for help. They break.
He spread his arms theatrically and walked away.
Andrew moved to the window. Night had fallen, streetlights flickering on. The clear, predictable horizon of our lives was shattered. The worst part wasnt the loss of money. The real terror lay in realizing that the perfect picture of happiness wed sacrificed everything for had been drawn on sand from the start.
