Ignatius, wounded by his mothers behaviour, resolved to live apart from her.
“You dont respect me at all!” The long echo of his mothers fury travelled down the telephone line, its sharp indignation deafening Harriet.
She exhaled heavily, the weight of the older womans demands pressing upon her. That moment before her own wedding had seemed as though fate itself had chosen to interfere, casting chaos into her life. The grooms mother, a woman of stern convictions and unyielding opinions, had fallen ill with nothing more than a coldyet in her words, it might as well have been the plague, capable of ruining everything.
The call had come in the morning, just as the hour of Harriet and her beloved Ignatiuss new beginning drew near. Surprise swiftly turned to irritation, for the news was as unreasonable as it was unexpected. His mother insisted the wedding be postponed for weeks.
“What do you mean, *postpone*? Weve arranged everythingthe reception, the guests My parents are travelling all the way from Manchester for this!” Harriet protested.
Ignatius listened in silence, knowing a difficult conversation with his mother lay ahead. No one had ever dared oppose herbut now it was his turn to speak.
“Mother, a cold is just a passing ailment. I understand your concern, but we cant cancel the wedding over something so trivial.”
His firm tone was new to her. She drew a sharp breath, unaccustomed to defiance from the son she had ruled all his life. A stifled sob crackled through the receiver, as though she fought back tears of outrage.
“Very well, if neither of you care for my health Then let it be so. But remember thisif anything goes wrong, the blame will rest on your shoulders.”
A sharp click followed. Silence settled over the room, broken only by Harriets restless fingers tapping the table.
The mothers hand trembled as she clutched the telephone, her fingers moving mechanically through her contacts. Her heart pounded, but her thoughts were clear: she would not allow them to celebrate while she suffered.
“Hello, Margaret? Its me. Im sorry to call so urgently, but the weddings been postponed. Ive come down with the fluwe must delay it a fortnight. Yes, of course my son agrees. Hes terribly worried for me.”
A pause, then a hushed whisper: “Oh, you poor dear! Of course, get well first!”
The mother exhaled in relief. Lying weighed on her, but necessity demanded it.
The next call came swiftly.
“Hello, Beatrice? Yes, you heard correctly. Weve had to postpone the wedding. Ive taken illthe doctor insists I rest.”
Beatrice gasped. “Oh, what a shame! Heaven send you a swift recovery, my dear!”
One by one, the calls continued, each repeating the same refrain: *”Im sorry, but we must postpone.”* Every listener reacted the samesympathy, well-wishes, blind faith in her words. Yet her conscience whispered that she was wrong, that she harmed her son, his bride, even herself.
After the final call, the mother sank onto the sofa, exhausted in body and spirit. The phone still trembled in her hand, unanswered messages clamouring for attention. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
That evening, as guests gathered for the ceremony, only Harriets closest friends, a few of Ignatiuss colleagues, and distant relativesthose with little contact with his motherremained. The rest had vanished, heeding her warnings, though no formal cancellations had been issued.
For a moment, Harriet stood frozen, dizziness washing over her. Then anger rose, sharp and bitter, mingling with the sting of injustice.
Yet despite it all, the celebration went onjoyful, warm, alive with laughter and dancing, the air thick with the closeness of those who truly cared.
Far from the festivities, the mother sat alone in her home, weeping quietly, cursing fate for the humiliation dealt her. Her fury twisted into solitude, swallowing her like a tide consuming the shore.
*”To them, my illness is nothingan old womans foolishness. Was it so hard to show a little care?”*
When the truth of that evening reached Ignatiuss relatives, they felt betrayed. Some voiced their displeasure openly; others held their tongues, fearing the strife that might follow.
Ignatius, wounded by his mothers actions, chose to live apart from her.
Before long, the newlyweds moved to another town, far from his mother and the shadows of the past.
