His mother is tormented daily, drowning in guilt over the unfairness she inflicted on her eldest son—a burden so heavy it’s driven him to cut her out of his life completely.
Margaret Dawson, long retired, once stood at the front of a classroom, teaching English literature in a sleepy coastal town in Northern England. For the past three years, her eldest son has refused to speak to her, his heart hardened by a betrayal that festers like an open wound.
Margaret raised three sons, and with the younger two, her bond is a thing of beauty—warm, heartfelt, unbreakable. But everything shattered the moment she chose to step into retirement. A friend dangled a wild proposition before her: move to Australia to work as a nanny, where help was desperately needed. Margaret seized the chance without a second thought. Her friend sorted the paperwork—visas, work permits—and within days of arriving, she landed a job. Six months later, she returned home, but the money she’d earned in that short burst lit a fire in her. She decided to go back for more.
Years passed as she toiled abroad, amassing a small fortune. When her youngest son announced he was heading to Manchester to chase opportunity, Margaret didn’t hesitate—she bought him a house there, dreaming of a future where her family could be united under one roof. She saw it as a golden ticket to a better life for him. The family cheered, throwing a grand celebration for his fresh start in the city—laughter echoing, glasses clinking in triumph.
A couple of years later, her middle son hit a stroke of luck—promoted and transferred to a Manchester branch with a dazzling job offer. It was a golden opportunity, but where would he live? Margaret, ever the provider, stepped in once more. She purchased him an apartment in the same building as his younger brother. Then the eldest son, his patience worn to a thread, stormed into her life and unleashed a torrent of pent-up anguish—a confrontation that shook the walls.
He demanded to know why his brothers were handed gleaming homes while he rotted in a crumbling, cockroach-riddled hovel on the coast, watching them thrive in Manchester’s bright lights. Stricken, Margaret vowed that in a year, after her next stint in Australia, she’d buy him a place too. She planned to work a full year to make it happen, desperate to right her wrong.
She tried to soothe him, promising she’d scrape together the money soon. “Just hold on a little longer, and you’ll have what you deserve,” she pleaded, even swearing to secure him a spot in the same building as his brothers. But those words were hollow, a fragile house of cards doomed to collapse. This time, Australia slammed the door in her face—her visa was denied. Rejection after rejection, no explanations, no hope. She fought, she raged, but her dreams crumbled into dust. Margaret was left reeling, her grand plans reduced to ash.
Undeterred, she resolved to try again the next year—surely there was no real reason to keep her out? But her savings were gone, every penny spent. She could scrape by on her pension, but she’d made a promise to her eldest son—a promise she couldn’t break. So she dragged herself back to the classroom, teaching again in that windswept coastal town, chalk in hand, heart heavy. She’d snapped at officials, demanded answers about the visa denials, but her temper only dug the hole deeper.
Yet how long would it take to save for a Manchester flat on a teacher’s meager wage? A decade wouldn’t be enough! Still, Margaret pressed on, clinging to the faint hope she could keep her word. But her eldest son’s patience snapped like a brittle twig. He marched back to her, hurling every ounce of his fury—lashing out at her, at his brothers, at the injustice that devoured him. His wife fanned the flames, spreading vicious rumors about Margaret across the town, painting her as a cold, favoritist tyrant. She goaded her husband, hissing that his brothers lived like kings while they languished in poverty. He listened, the bitterness swelling, and he unloaded it all on his mother. He was the firstborn! The house should’ve been his first—his birthright!
Who’s right and who’s wrong remains a mystery. The family lies in ruins, each clutching their grievances like weapons. Shouts and accusations tear through the air, all sparked by Margaret’s choices—a wildfire of resentment that refuses to die.
