Stephen heard the strained cry in his mother’s voice as she called out, her frustration growing with every clattering plate from the sink.
“Is it really better with your father?” she implored, her words cutting like a whip. “Think it’s so sweet over there? You’ll be back tomorrow, mark my words!”
“No, Mum. It’ll be alright.”
She dialed the phone, the frustration mounting as she was met with the endless tones of a busy signal. “I’ve got my son leaving home, and his line’s busy!”
“Mum, where are my autumn boots?”
“Boots? Why do you need boots?” She punctuated each word, driving a wedge between him and his father. “Planning to stay there till it freezes over?”
“Yes, Mum.”
A tense silence filled the kitchen, thick with the threat of a storm.
“Fine! Let your father support you then!” Her voice rose again, piercing the quiet. “Don’t expect a penny from me!”
Stephen peeked into the room and said, “Mum, I’ve always earned for my own desires.”
Silence again, shifting into something else entirely.
As he closed the door behind him, she finally broke into tears.
Two months back, when his dad invited him over for the holidays, Stephen accepted without much thought, expecting nothing.
But from the first day, he knew things could be different.
A home where voices stayed calm.
A woman who spoke gently instead of barking orders.
A father who laughed instead of brooding in silence.
A family that felt warm.
Stephen watched his little brother, not able to pull away from scenes of tenderness. His father softly patting Grace on the back, sharing knowing glances, working together in the kitchen.
How could he not know it could be like this?
Why did he ever equate love with loud words?
Each week, he stayed longer—one day more, then two, until finally, forever.
“Fancy a dash to the countryside with us?” his father popped his head in, hopeful.
“No, Dad, I’ve got studies.”
“Are you certain about the eleventh grade?”
“I’m not sure,” Stephen shrugged. “But since I’m unsure, I’ll keep at it. Maybe I’ll get into college and find my way there.”
“And your mother? What’s her take?”
“She doesn’t ask. Just yelled at me not to loiter around.”
His father nodded, “Stay as long as you need.”
“And Grace’s alright with it?”
“She is. Just asked me to tell you not to cause a fuss.”
Stephen chuckled.
“Dad, was Mum always like this?”
His father hesitated. “No. She was beautiful, clever. I loved her so much.”
“What changed?”
“She broke,” his father sighed. “I couldn’t make her happy anymore. If a woman’s not happy, neither is the man. It’s like someone cuts you off from power. Click, and it’s done.”
He paused.
“That’s when we separated.”
In the autumn, for the first time in ages, Stephen entered his mother’s house.
“Mum, are you home?”
A rustle from the room.
“Hello!” She burst excitedly into the hallway, wearing a silk robe, her face… different.
Rested.
Radiant.
It was then he noticed a man’s jacket hung neatly in the closet.
“Hello.” A stranger stepped into the corridor, extending a hand. “I’m Richard.”
Stephen smiled.
“Stephen.”
A pause lingered.
“Did I interrupt?”
“No!” Her voice wavered, then she stepped forward and embraced him. Just a simple, warm embrace.
And in that moment, Stephen realized it hadn’t been for nothing.
His departure had given her something more than solitude.
His father was right.
“A happy woman unknowingly spreads happiness all around.”
Only now did he understand those words.
