Forget about me forever, she hissed, as if shed cut a cord, forget you ever had a daughter, my daughter Emily said, her voice flat.
Everything had been falling apart in a heartbeat. I felt sorry for both my child and my exhusband. We were once thought of as a respectable family, a place where love, understanding and support lived side by side. Then it all collapsed at once.
Emily had just turned fifteen a difficult age on its own and suddenly her father left for another woman. How could she understand or accept that? She slid down a dark slope, falling into dubious crowds, sketchy boys, and the lure of alcohol
I, too, was at a loss. What should I do with the husband who returned? Drive him out or forgive him? Even if I forgave him, how could I keep living with suspicion gnawing at every corner? There were no answers.
My husband Simon knew how to love. Wed known each other since school. He flirted with a charm that could astonish and delight. I fell for him completely; I never considered anyone else as a husband. Simon alone. My mother and father approved, saying thered be no better soninlaw.
We threw a splendid wedding, the kind you remember for a lifetime. Then the ordinary days began. Simon always wanted to brighten them. One evening I came home from work to find our bed strewn with rose petals. I laughed and kissed his cheek.
Whats the occasion? I asked.
Remember, Emily? he chuckled, the day I sat beside you in class and we got to know each other better. I waved my hand dismissively, yet my heart sang. He never let the small moments slip by. He was my gold.
When Simon returned from a business trip he brought a stack of face creams.
Emily, Ive been briefed on every jar and tube. Throw away the pans and pots; I need a wellkept wife, not a kitchen maid, he said, pulling me onto the sofa beside him.
Time passed, and Simon remained tender, caring, and considerate. I was proud of him; Emily adored him. Our joint family business thrived; we gave ourselves nothing less than the best. Life was comfortable and bright.
We eventually moved to London, chasing greater opportunities. We left behind all our possessions and set off to conquer new horizons. Business grew, and we partnered with a sharpwitted solicitor named Claire. If Id known how that partnership would end, Id never have turned my head that way.
Everything seemed wonderful, and we decided to expand our family, planning for a second childnaïvely optimistic.
One afternoon Emily came home from school, eyes wide.
Mom, is Dad really on a business trip? she asked cautiously.
Of course, why would you think otherwise? I replied, unaware.
Vicky saw him in the supermarket. Maybe shes mistaken, Emily murmured and retreated to her room.
Vicky, Emilys close friend, was a frequent visitor to our house and could not have confused Simon with anyone else. I called her.
Hello, Vicky, how are you? Did you run into Uncle Simon at the supermarket today? I cant get hold of him, I asked, feigning innocence.
Yes, Aunt Megan, I did. He was with a woman, hugging and laughing loudly, Vicky described, painting the scene in vivid colour. Meanwhile, Simon was five days away on a trip.
I decided to wait for the truth.
Three days later Simon walked through the door, tired but cheerful.
How was the trip? I began, trying to steer the conversation.
It was fine, he answered briefly.
I know everything, Simon! There was no trip at all! Youre lying! I shouted.
What makes you think that, Megan? he retorted, defensive.
I have witnesses to your blatant lie, I pressed.
Megan, why not just feed your husband a snack and stop being angry? he deflected with a joke.
I wanted it to be a joke, a coincidence, nonsense, but the truth was there, undeniable. I had missed the signs, failed to protect the man I loved. A cold silence settled between us, tension and misunderstanding thickening the air.
Emily sensed the strain. Children notice the shifts between their parents instantly. I didnt want to interrogate Simon, to sift through his dirty laundry. Let whatever happened happen. He wouldnt leave, I thought, knowing I was pregnant.
Then disaster struck. An ambulance rushed me to the hospital; I emerged without the baby. The doctor blamed the miscarriage on stress. I felt like a live wire, ready to snap.
Simons hands loosened. He soon left for Claires firm, perhaps chasing excitement. Emily and I were left alone, grieving. The ground slipped from under my feet; the world wavered. I thought life was no longer worth living. If it werent for Emily, I would have said goodbye to the world.
But I imagined Emily suffering alone, a fragile child bearing my broken heart. That thought kept me from surrendering. Emily, seeing my despair, stayed close; we grew nearer than ever during those hard months. She stopped her teenage antics, became solemn, determined to help her mother.
Two years later my exhusband resurfaced. I could not look at him; his presence repulsed me. He had caused too much pain to both Emily and me; forgiveness was impossible. I let him back into the house out of pity, but the only bond left was through Emily. Everything else drifted away like water through sand.
He asked, How are you, Megan?
Whats it to you? Why bring up the past now? Missing me? I replied with a hint of sarcasm.
Is Emily home? he inquired, perhaps seeking support from our daughter.
Emily reluctantly emerged, crossed her arms, and stared at him with disdain.
Emily, please forgive me, he pleaded, looking pitiful.
Forget you ever had a daughter, Emily muttered, returning to her room.
You want me to say it again? I teased him.
He left, and our mutual acquaintances later told me that the woman who had stolen Simons business had left him penniless, which is why he kept returning, hoping for forgiveness.
Three years passed. Emily attended university; I worked for a large corporation. Our lives were calm, free of turmoil. I dreamed of marrying Emily off to a good man, retiring peacefully, perhaps buying a kitten or a puppy to care for. I was thirtyseven then, feeling content.
Fate, however, had another turn. Delegations from Turkey often visited my firm. One Turkish delegate, Fatih, showered me with unmistakable attentioncompliments, gifts, even a sprig of fresh grass as a token. I found his charm irresistible: intelligent, strikingly handsome, courteous. We soon married.
Fatih won over my parents. Though initially shocked by a foreign soninlaw, he delighted them with Turkish delicacies, witty jokes, and invitations to Ankara, earning their blessing. Emily, seeing my happiness, also gave her approval, even as we prepared to move to Turkey.
Mom and Fatih, may you always be happy! she said.
In time, Emily forgave her wayward father and even invited him to her own wedding.
Through all the upheavals, I learned that love cannot be rushed or forced, that trust rebuilt takes patience, and that the strongest safety net is the bond between a mother and her child. When we hold onto each other, even the fiercest storms lose their bite, and we discover that true resilience lies not in forgetting the past, but in carrying its lessons forward with compassion.
