Alice froze when she heard her mother-in-law’s words. Her fingers loosened of their own accord, and the tray crashed onto the veranda floor with a deafening clatter. Shards of glass scattered in every direction.
George and Eleanor Whitmore turned sharply. Fear flashed across the older woman’s face before being replaced by feigned concern.
“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, leaping up. “You aren’t hurt, are you? Let me help!”
“Don’t come near me,” Alice said, raising a hand. “I heard everything.”
She fixed her burning gaze on her husband. George sat with slumped shoulders, head bowed, nervously tugging at the tablecloth.
“George,” Alice’s voice trembled with strain. “Do you have something to say?”
“Alice, darling, you misunderstood!” Eleanor babbled. “We were only discussing—”
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Alice cut in sharply. “George?”
A heavy silence settled.
“Son,” Eleanor tried again, stepping closer and resting a hand on George’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t abandon your own mother, would you?”
George slowly raised his head. His eyes met Alice’s—full of pain and quiet shame.
“Mum,” he said softly but firmly. “I love you. You’re my mother, and I’ll always care for you.”
Eleanor’s lips curled in triumph as she cast a victorious glance at her daughter-in-law. But George stood and continued:
“But I love Alice more. And I won’t do anything to hurt her.”
Eleanor’s smile faded.
“What are you saying?” she whispered.
“I’m saying you should gather your things and leave,” George replied firmly. “And don’t return until you’ve apologized to Alice and understood that nothing matters more than the family I’ve made.”
“Family?!” Eleanor’s eyes blazed with fury. “Then what am I? The woman who bore and raised you?”
“Mum,” George shook his head. “You tried to make me deceive my own wife and take her home from her. This isn’t the first time you’ve manipulated me.”
“She’s changed you!” Eleanor shrieked, pointing at Alice. “Turned my son against me! May you be cursed!”
“Enough,” George raised his voice, and his mother fell silent. “I won’t listen to this anymore. Either you apologize, or you leave now.”
Her lips trembled.
“You choose her?” she breathed. “You’d throw your own mother out?”
“You have your own home, Mum,” George said wearily. “I’ll still support you, as I always have. But you’re not welcome here.”
With a sob, Eleanor stormed into the house and soon the slam of the door echoed behind her. Alice and George were left alone on the veranda amidst the broken pieces.
“Forgive me,” George whispered, stepping toward his wife. “I shouldn’t have stayed silent. I shouldn’t have even listened to her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alice asked quietly. “You’ve been so distant.”
“She wanted me to talk to you about selling the house,” George admitted. “Said she was lonely, that the place was too big for us. I didn’t know how to bring it up. Then she arrived and pressed me—said if you refused, we’d have to act… differently.”
“You truly chose me over her?” Alice turned to him.
“I love her,” George answered simply. “But what she wanted wasn’t love—it was selfishness. And I won’t be part of it.”
Alice stepped into his arms and let him hold her.
By morning, Eleanor had left without a word. But peace didn’t return—instead came incessant phone calls.
“Mum, my decision stands,” George repeated firmly each time. “I won’t forsake you. But I won’t forsake Alice either.”
Eventually, the calls stopped. George remained resolute. One evening, as he and Alice sipped tea on the veranda, he smiled—for the first time in ages, warm and unguarded.
“You know,” he said, looking at her, “I think we’ve weathered the worst of it.”
Alice nodded, squeezing his hand. The house was becoming their haven once more.
