Ex-husband offers flat to son on one conditionmarry me again.
At sixty, I live quietly in York, never expecting the past to barge back in with such cheek after twenty years of radio silence. The worst part? It was my own son who opened the door to it.
Back when I was twenty-five, I was head over heels. Danieltall, charming, quick with a jokeseemed like everything Id ever dreamed of. We married in a whirlwind, and a year later, our son Oliver arrived. Those early years felt like a rom-com montage. We lived in a tiny flat, full of big plansme a schoolteacher, him an engineer. Nothing could break us.
Until it did. Daniel started staying out late, spinning tales, growing distant. I ignored the whispers, the foreign perfumes on his collar. But eventually, it was impossible to pretendhe was cheating. Not just once. Friends, neighbours, even my parents knew. I stayed, though. For Oliver. Held on, hoping hed snap out of it. Then one night, I woke to an empty bed and realisedenough.
I packed my things, took five-year-old Oliver by the hand, and moved in with my mum. Daniel didnt stop us. A month later, he swanned off abroadsupposedly for work. Found another woman. No calls, no letters. Total indifference. And there I was, on my own. Lost my mum, then my dad. Oliver and I muddled throughschool, sniffles, football matches, graduation. Worked three jobs so hed never want for anything. Put my life on hold. He was my world.
When he got into uni in London, I helped however I couldcare packages, cash, pep talks. But a flat? Out of the question. He never complained. Said hed sort it himself. I was so proud.
Then last month, he turned up, twitchy, eyes darting. Mum I need your help. Its about Dad.
Turns out Daniels back in the UK, dangled keys to a two-bed flat inherited from Granny. One condition: I remarry him. Let him move into my place.
I nearly choked on my tea. Oliver kept rambling. Youre on your own Why not try again? For me. For my future family. Dads changed.
I walked to the kitchen. Kettle on, hands shaking. Twenty years Id managed alone. Twenty years he couldnt be bothered. Now he waltzes back with a *deal*?
Returning, I said, calmly, No.
Oliver exploded. Shouted that Id always been selfish, robbed him of a father, was ruining his life *again*. I stayed silent. Every word sliced deeper. He didnt know the night shifts, the sold wedding ring to buy him a winter coat, the skipped meals so hed have proper dinners.
Im not lonely. My lifes simplejob, books, garden, mates. I dont need a man who discarded me, now back for convenience.
Oliver left without goodbye. Still no call. Hes hurt. I get ithe wants whats best. But dignity isnt for sale, not even for square footage.
Maybe hell understand someday. Ill wait. Loves not a transactionno flats, no *ifs*. I brought him into this world with love. Raised him with it. Wont let it become currency now.
As for Daniel? He can stay in the past. Thats where he belongs.
