Alice froze when she heard her mother-in-law’s words. Her fingers loosened involuntarily, and the tray crashed onto the veranda floor with a deafening clatter. Shards of glass scattered in every direction.
Edward and Margaret Whitmore spun around. The shock on Margaret’s face quickly morphed into feigned concern.
“Sweetheart!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Are you hurt? Let me help!”
“Don’t come near me,” Alice warned, thrusting a hand out. “I heard everything.”
Her burning gaze shifted to her husband. Edward sat slumped, his head bowed, fingers nervously twisting the edge of the tablecloth.
“Edward,” Alice’s voice was tight with strain. “Have you got something to say?”
“Alice, love, you misunderstood!” Margaret babbled. “We were just talking—”
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Alice cut her off sharply. “Edward?”
A heavy silence settled over them.
“Son,” Margaret tried again, stepping closer to Edward and resting a hand on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t abandon your own mother, would you?”
Edward lifted his head slowly. His eyes met Alice’s—pain and deep shame flickered in his gaze.
“Mum,” he said softly but firmly. “I love you. You’re my mother, and I’ll always take care of you.”
Margaret’s lips curled in triumph as she shot a victorious glance at her daughter-in-law. But Edward stood and continued:
“But I love Alice more. And I won’t do anything to hurt her.”
The smile slid from Margaret’s face.
“What are you saying, boy?” she whispered.
“I’m saying you should pack your things and leave,” Edward stated. “And don’t come back until you’ve apologised to Alice and understood that nothing matters more than the family I’ve made.”
“Family?!” Margaret’s eyes flashed with fury. “And what am I? The woman who bore you and raised you!”
“Mum,” Edward shook his head. “You tried to make me deceive my own wife and take her house. This isn’t the first time you’ve manipulated me.”
“She’s turned you against me!” Margaret shrieked, jabbing a finger at Alice. “Twisted my son’s mind! You’ll regret this!”
“Enough.” Edward raised his voice, and his mother faltered. “I won’t listen to another word. Apologise, or leave now.”
Her lips trembled.
“You’re choosing her?” she choked out. “Throwing your own mother out?”
“You have your own home, Mum,” Edward said wearily. “And I’ll still support you, just as before. But you’re not welcome here.”
With a sob, Margaret stormed into the house. Moments later, the front door slammed. Alice and Edward were left alone on the veranda, surrounded by broken glass.
“Forgive me,” Edward whispered, stepping toward her. “I should never have stayed silent. Should never have even listened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alice asked quietly. “You’ve been distant for days.”
“She wanted me to talk to you about selling the house,” he admitted. “Said she was lonely, that it was too big for just us. I didn’t know how to bring it up. Then she showed up and insisted that if you refused, we’d have to… take other measures.”
“Did you really mean it?” Alice turned to him. “Choosing me over her?”
“I love her,” Edward said simply. “But what she asked wasn’t love—it was selfishness. And I won’t be part of it.”
Alice stepped into his arms and let him hold her.
The next morning, Margaret left without a word. But peace didn’t return—instead, the phone rang endlessly.
“Mum, my decision stands,” Edward repeated firmly. “I’m not abandoning you. But I won’t abandon Alice either.”
Gradually, the calls stopped. Edward never wavered. One evening, as he and Alice sipped tea on the veranda, he smiled—genuinely, for the first time in months.
“You know,” he said, looking at her, “I think we’ve made it.”
Alice nodded, squeezing his hand. The house was theirs again—a fortress, rebuilt.
