In a quiet village nestled in the Scottish Highlands, where winter winds howl around weathered stone cottages, Eleanor and her husband, William, waited in vain for their son to visit. Their hopes crumbled, and their hearts ached with sorrow.
“Seems he won’t come after all,” Eleanor sighed, glancing at William. “We’ve grown used to it, haven’t we?”
“What happened? Did Charlotte forbid him again?” William frowned. “You two never got along.”
“Perhaps,” Eleanor replied, her voice trembling. “But Oliver never spoke this way before. He used to visit more often, but now… His wife always has a trick up her sleeve. Looks like we’ll have to hire someone to fix the roof. Our own son can’t spare a single day.”
She spoke bitterly of Oliver, their forty-year-old son, who’d left their village twelve years ago for the city. Once a hands-on mechanic, he now merely supervised repairs. He’d married Charlotte, bought a flat, and built a new life.
“He did all the renovations himself,” Eleanor recalled. “Charlotte just gave orders. They married late—she was past thirty, never wed before. Now I see why—not many could handle her temper. We disliked each other from the start.”
“No wonder she stayed single so long,” William muttered. “Remember when you tried talking to her? It was a nightmare. What does Oliver even see in her?”
Charlotte rarely spoke to her in-laws, allowing Oliver just one visit a year. This time, he’d promised Eleanor he’d take holiday leave in May to fix their leaking roof. But Charlotte had other plans.
“She’s expecting a baby,” Eleanor said bitterly. “She forbade him from leaving her alone. A grown woman, a nurse—what could possibly happen? Yet she nagged him for weeks, though the tickets were bought.”
“Why does she do this?” William asked, though he already knew.
“First, she said she was afraid to be alone, then…” Eleanor trailed off, tears welling.
“Then what? Does she lead him about on a leash? Her own parents dote on her!” William snapped.
“I reckon they’re the ones putting ideas in her head,” Eleanor continued. “They told her not to let her husband visit family alone. Their other son-in-law did just that—then divorced their younger daughter. Now she lives with them. So they’ve convinced Charlotte Oliver’s the same.”
“Not all men are alike!” William exclaimed. “Oliver’s never given her reason to doubt him. Why couldn’t she come with him?”
“Come here?” Eleanor gave a hollow laugh. “She’d never. You know how she despises us. I tried talking to her—it’s hopeless.”
She remembered when William once phoned Charlotte, hoping to mend things. It ended disastrously.
“What did she say?” he asked, though he dreaded the answer.
“That we always want something, that we’re tearing Oliver from his family,” Eleanor’s voice shook. “That she’s tired of standing up to us. Said a husband should care for his wife and child, not his parents’ whims. If he takes leave, it should be for his own family. And she called our house worthless!”
“What a piece of work!” William clenched his fists. “And Oliver? What did he say?”
“He made excuses, but we know it’s not his fault,” Eleanor sighed. “Likely postponed the trip to avoid upsetting her. Worried for the baby, for her.”
William couldn’t take it. Furious, he called Oliver and let loose.
“Enough!” he shouted. “I won’t wait for you anymore! I’ll hire workers—you stay under your wife’s thumb!”
Eleanor stayed silent, but her heart shattered. She understood William’s anger, yet his words—”wives come and go, but parents are forever”—cut deep. Oliver was their pride, their only son, and now a wall stood between them, built by Charlotte. She kept him on a short leash, and fearing her outbursts, he obeyed.
Eleanor gazed at their old roof, leaking with every rain, and felt hope slipping away like the water. They’d worked all their lives to give Oliver the best, yet now they must pay strangers to mend their home. The sting of betrayal choked her, but worse was knowing her son grew ever more distant. Charlotte had made it clear: her family was Oliver and the child—his parents were just a burden.
Eleanor didn’t know how to bring him back. She dreamed he’d visit, embrace her like in his boyhood, and together they’d fix the roof, laughing over old memories. But all she got was silence and blame. The family she’d built with love was crumbling, and she feared the fracture might never heal.
Sometimes love isn’t lost—just buried under obligations, waiting for courage to dig it free.
