**Broken Trust: A Story of Betrayal That Can’t Be Forgiven**
*—Oh, Lorraine! Hello, love—* My mother-in-law flustered as she opened the door. *—We weren’t expecting you till the day after tomorrow.*
*—Good evening, Margaret,* I replied calmly, hugging her. *—I’ve got work on Monday—my leave was cut short. Thought I’d come back early.*
*Is my husband here with Ethan?*
She hesitated.
*—Oliver’s here, but Thomas… he went to see off his colleague, Lily. Haven’t you spoken?*
Now it was my turn to be surprised.
*—He wasn’t answering his phone. Who’s Lily, if you don’t mind me asking?*
*—Oh, it’s nothing…* Margaret faltered. *—Thomas dropped Ethan off for the weekend, and Lily… she was just waiting in the car. I… I invited her in for tea and cake.*
*—Naturally. How kind of you.* My voice turned icy. *—Where are they now? How long ago did they leave?*
*—About two hours,* she murmured, avoiding my gaze.
*—Lovely,* I said flatly before heading straight to my son.
My blood boiled. I hugged five-year-old Ethan, gathered his things, and after a curt goodbye, drove home. He chattered happily in the car:
*—Dad and Auntie Lily took me for ice cream, we went on the carousel, and then to Grandma’s! It was so fun!*
I nodded, but my mind was spinning. For the first time in ten years, I’d gone on holiday alone—a spa retreat I’d won for my years of service. A chance to heal my chronic gastritis and ulcers. *Go,* Thomas had said. *Mum will help. We’ll manage.*
I’d doubted, but he convinced me. And now my son was talking about cosy cafés with *Auntie Lily*—a woman I didn’t even know, already bonding with him and sharing tea with my mother-in-law.
Late that night, the phone rang.
*—Lorraine, hi… sorry, my phone died—* Thomas mumbled.
*—Hi. Where are you?*
*—At Mum’s. Staying over with Ethan. Everyone’s asleep…*
*—Fascinating. Funny, because I’m at home. Ethan’s in his bed, and you’re nowhere. Hiding in the wardrobe, by any chance?*
My voice was steady, but fury simmered beneath.
Silence. Then the call dropped.
Forty minutes later, he stood in the doorway.
*—Don’t start a scene. You found out anyway. Yes, there’s Lily.*
*—Are you mad? You brought her to your mother’s? Let our son spend time with her?!*
*—I wanted to see if she fit. With my parents, with Ethan…*
I nearly staggered. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was real.
*—You… tried to fold your mistress into our family? What’s next—introducing her to me?*
*—Don’t twist it. I didn’t know you’d be back.*
Tears spilled—not because he’d cheated, but because he spoke as if picking out a new telly. No remorse. Just cold calculation.
He went to bed.
The next morning, I took Ethan to nursery and drove to Margaret’s.
*—Margaret, tell me one thing: why? What did I ever do to you? I cared for you when you broke your hip, made preserves for your garden. Why betray me?*
She looked down.
*—I’m sorry. I didn’t know before you left. After… I couldn’t say no to Thomas. He’s my son.*
*—And what am I?* I whispered.
No answer. I turned and walked out.
That evening, Thomas was home.
*—The divorce is obvious. We’ll discuss splitting the flat.*
*—Which flat? The one my dad left me a month before the wedding?*
*—But I put money into it. The renovations…*
*—From your parents, not you. Consider it their investment in their grandson’s home.*
His face twisted.
*—Half of it’s mine!*
*—Forget it,* I said firmly. *After what you’ve done, there’s nothing to split.*
He erupted—shouting, hurling insults, digging for the cruelest words. I pressed against the wall, shaken. Then Ethan woke up and ran out, frightened. That stopped him. He wouldn’t dare continue in front of our son. He left.
He filed for divorce. Failed to take the flat.
A year passed.
At first, Ethan visited his dad. Then he stopped—Thomas’s new wife, Lily, rejected him. She didn’t get on with Margaret either.
I decided: time to end this chapter. I sold the flat and moved to Brighton—where that spa had been. A place to start fresh. For the first time, just for me.
