– Did you buy your mum a present again and forgot about me? – Emily said with a touch of bitterness.
The New Year’s Eve filled the house with the scents of oranges and cinnamon. Emily, wearing a new silk scarf, was busily preparing the festive table. Helen, elegant in her English shawl, was helping her with the salads.
Explore anew:
Snow was falling in thick flakes, covering the streets of London with a white blanket. Only two days were left until New Year’s. Emily stood at the window of their flat with John on the twelfth floor, absentmindedly watching the snowfall. Somewhere in the distance, the lights of Christmas garlands twinkled, and decorated trees could already be seen in the neighbouring windows.
On the coffee table lay a small box tied with a golden ribbon – a gift for her mother-in-law. Emily had chosen it herself: an elegant English shawl with a traditional pattern. Helen had long dreamed of one. “I hope John likes the choice,” Emily thought, adjusting the bow on the package for the hundredth time.
The sound of a key turning in the lock startled her. John entered, carrying a large bag from a fancy store.
– You won’t believe it, I barely made it in time! – he exclaimed excitedly, brushing snow off his coat. – The last piece left. Mum will be thrilled!
Emily froze. Her heart skipped a beat.
– What’s that? – she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
– That very cashmere cardigan she spotted at Harrods a month ago. Remember, she mentioned it? – John took out the luxurious piece in a shade of dark chocolate from the bag.
Emily remembered. She also remembered how it cost nearly half her monthly salary. And how, two weeks ago, she had pointed out a silk scarf she fancied to her husband… He had nodded absent-mindedly and changed the subject.
– So, you bought a gift for your mum again and forgot about me? – the words escaped on their own, steeped in years of accrued bitterness.
John froze, holding the cardigan. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced with mild irritation.
– Em, you know how important Mum is to me, – he carefully placed the cardigan back in the bag. – She’s my only mother. Besides, we didn’t agree on gifts this year…
Emily turned to the window. The snow outside continued to fall, as cold as the emptiness growing inside her.
– We never agree, John. You just every time… – she didn’t finish, feeling her voice tremble traitorously.
The keys jingled again in the hallway – Helen had arrived. They had agreed to plan the New Year’s menu together today. Emily quickly wiped her eyes, forcing a tense smile.
– Oh, it’s so good that you’re both home! – Helen entered, carrying a bag of oranges. – I was thinking, perhaps we could make that salad we did last year?
Emily nodded mechanically, avoiding eye contact with her mother-in-law. A lump sat in her throat, and her hands, setting the gift aside, barely concealed their slight tremor.
– Mum, let me help, – John reached for the bag of oranges, but Helen paused in the doorway, looking from her son to her daughter-in-law thoughtfully.
– Is something wrong? – she asked quietly. In fifteen years of her son’s marriage, she had learned to sense tension between the young couple.
– Nothing, – John replied too quickly. – Everything’s fine.
– Yes, perfect, – Emily couldn’t help the bitter irony. – Like always. John just bought his mum a gift. The cardigan. From Harrods.
Helen paled as she realized the situation.
– John, we talked about this… – she started.
– Mum, don’t start, – her son interrupted. – I wanted to surprise you. What’s wrong with that?
Emily turned sharply to her husband:
– The problem is you can’t see past your own nose! Fifteen years, John. Fifteen years I’ve felt like an afterthought. Every holiday, every weekend revolves around mum. Her wishes, her plans, her presents…
– Em, my dear… – Helen stepped toward her daughter-in-law, but Emily backed away.
– No, it’s not about you. It’s him, – Emily gestured toward her husband. – “Mum is important,” “I have only one mum”… And what about me? Just an accessory to family life?
– You’re being unfair! – John flared up. – Haven’t I done enough for you?
– Done? – Emily mocked bitterly. – You don’t even remember what I told you two weeks ago. About the scarf I liked. You nodded and forgot. But your mum’s cardigan – you remembered perfectly!
A heavy silence fell in the room. Only the ticking clock marked the seconds of tense quiet.
– I… I think I’ll go, – Helen said quietly. – We’ll discuss the menu tomorrow.
– Mum, please stay… – John started.
– No, dear. You two need to talk. It’s long overdue.
The front door closed quietly behind Helen. Emily stood by the window, hugging herself – an old habit that emerged when things felt particularly heavy.
Instead of going home, Helen wandered through the snow-covered street. Snowflakes landed on her face, dissolving in unbidden tears. “How blind I’ve been all these years…” ran through her mind.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. John.
– Mum, where are you? I’ll come down.
– I’m by the park bench, – she replied. – We do need to have a talk.
Five minutes later, John was sitting beside her, a coat thrown carelessly over his homely sweater. Snow continued to fall, covering their shoulders in a white mantle.
