“What are you doing?!” Tom froze, staring at his wife.
“I’m leaving, Tom,” Mary answered in a monotone voice. “Your mother won’t let us live in peace. I can’t take it anymore.”
“This is absolute garbage!” exclaimed Evelyn, slamming her spoon on the table.
Mary, Tom’s wife, blushed and ran away from the table.
“And where did you find this plain-looking woman? Under some bridge?” Evelyn turned to her son with disdain.
“She is not plain-looking; she’s my wife,” Tom replied calmly.
Every time Evelyn met her daughter-in-law, she burned with hatred. Everything about Mary irritated her: the food Mary cooked was terrible, the house was always messy, and Mary herself—always unkempt and dressed like someone from a thrift store.
Tom had repeatedly tried to explain to his mother that by insulting his wife, she insulted him too. But Evelyn didn’t want to listen.
“I will make sure my son has a proper wife! Not this rude, unpolished country girl!” Evelyn would scream.
Tom, by nature, was a non-confrontational man and always tried to resolve arguments peacefully. And yet again, he tried to calm his mother down.
“Mom, this is my life, and I chose Mary to be my wife! I love her.”
“What do you know about love?!” Evelyn interrupted him. “What do you know about family?! Before the wedding, you should have introduced her to me! That’s how things are done! Your father’s parents chose me for him because parents know better what kind of wife their son needs—they’re the ones who raised him!” Evelyn was almost choking with rage. “And you! You went and married some nobody without a penny to her name! I raised you with so much effort! If your father were alive, he would have disciplined you properly!”
Tom winced. He remembered too well how he stood in the corner as a child for the smallest infractions and was disciplined “appropriately” for any misdeeds. Even his mother had suffered from his father’s discipline at times.
But this upbringing hadn’t made Tom resentful or broken. He endured it and, as a child, made a decision: his own family would be different.
Tom didn’t hold a grudge against his parents and respected them, but he believed that modern families should follow a different way of life.
Since his childhood, Evelyn had tried to instill in him the idea that he should marry a high-status and preferably wealthy girl from a good family. She constantly meddled in his personal life, suggesting ambitious women who were climbing the social ladder.
But Tom was searching for something warm and genuine. He wanted mutual love. He dreamed of a cozy family, not a doll who only cared about money.
He met Mary at university, and for a long time, they kept their relationship a secret. Mary had come to the city from a small village and had only her older brother as family.
A simple and calm girl, unspoiled by wealth, won Tom’s heart with her openness and her lack of materialistic expectations toward men.
“You’re not listening to me again!” Evelyn kept ranting. “I’ll do whatever it takes, but you’re not going to stay with this aimless orphan!”
“Mom… Enough. That’s enough!” Tom finally snapped, pointing to the door.
Evelyn started to gather her things.
“Well then, I’m giving you one week to divorce her. That’s final!” she declared and stormed out, slamming the door.
Tom felt deeply hurt and frustrated with Evelyn. He walked into the room and saw Mary packing her things.
“What are you doing?!” he froze.
“I’m leaving, Tom,” Mary replied in a flat tone. “Your mother will never let us live in peace. I can’t listen to this anymore. I’ll go back to the village where I belong. Please, sleep in another room. Thank you.”
Mary shut the door in his face and locked it. No matter how hard Tom tried, she wouldn’t let him in. Out of despair, he went to sleep on the couch, hoping his wife would calm down and reconsider.
Tom was woken up by his alarm clock. He rarely woke up to it, as his mornings usually began differently. His wife would wake him with a gentle kiss and a delicious breakfast.
“Sweetheart?!” Tom called out, but there was no answer. He got up and looked around. Dirty dishes were still on the table. Mary had left.
“It’s fine,” Tom reassured himself. “After work, I’ll pick her up with flowers. We’ll have a romantic dinner and make up. As for Mom, I’ll figure something out.”
Leaving the mess in the kitchen, Tom put on a wrinkled shirt and went to work. All day, he tried to call his wife, but she didn’t answer. After leaving work early, he went to Mary’s workplace.
“She worked until lunchtime and then left. They say she’s on vacation,” the security guard at the entrance told him. Tom scratched his head with his free hand; in the other, he held a bouquet of roses. When asked at the store what flowers his wife liked, he couldn’t remember. So, he went with the safe choice: roses.
But Mary didn’t answer his calls or messages.
When Tom returned home, the apartment felt dark, stuffy, and unbearably empty without Mary. And it was still a mess…
Taking out his phone, Tom called his boss.
“Sorry, family emergency! I need to leave urgently.”
After hanging up, Tom loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and started washing the dishes. After cleaning the apartment and changing his clothes, he set off to find his wife.
“I’m telling you for the last time!” Tom slammed his fist on the table in front of Evelyn. “Give me her address!”
“If she left, it means she doesn’t love you!” his mother, poorly hiding her satisfaction, tried to reason with him. Evelyn worked in law enforcement and could have found Mary’s brother’s address but stubbornly refused to do so.
“Why am I even here again?” Tom thought to himself. “She’s got such a hold on me.”
He wanted to say many harsh words but suddenly felt a wave of calm.
Tom handed his mother the bouquet of roses he’d bought for his wife and quietly said:
“Thank you for everything, Mom. Goodbye. Forget about us and forgive me.”
“What do you mean, goodbye?! Tommy?!” Evelyn shouted, but it was too late. She angrily threw the bouquet away, deciding she would never forgive her son for this betrayal.
Tom didn’t sleep all night, and in the morning, he headed out to search for Mary.
All he had was the name of her village. For three hours, he drove around, asking locals if they knew her brother’s house.
“Excuse me, are you Alex by any chance?” he asked a man chopping wood outside.
“I am,” the man replied gruffly.
“I’m Tom, your sister’s husband.”
“You’d better leave this place peacefully, Tom!”
“I’m not leaving without my wife,” Tom said firmly.
“We’ll see about that…” Alex raised his axe threateningly.
At that moment, Mary came out of the house. Seeing Tom, she froze.
“Alex, stop!” she shouted to her brother. He waved his hand and walked away.
“Take care of it yourself, sis.”
“Please forgive me, Mary!” Tom handed her a bouquet of wildflowers he’d bought from an old woman on the way. “I still don’t know what flowers you like…”
“These are my favorite,” she said, taking the bouquet. “By the way, your mother called.”
Tom tensed.
“What did she want?”
“She said she’s cutting all ties with you. But if I’m still interested in her son, I can have him.”
“And are you interested?” Tom asked with a smile.
“I don’t know,” Mary replied playfully, taking his arm and smiling warmly at her husband.
