**”You Heard What You Shouldn’t Have”: When Love Endures Betrayal and Forgiveness**
I’d been preparing for this day as if it were a sacrament. I’d chosen a new dress, baked Edward’s favourite cake—the one with cherries and crumble topping that always made him hum with delight. I’d even bought a bouquet of delicate cream roses and left early. Today, Margaret, my mother-in-law, had invited us over. Mother’s Day—everything had to be perfect.
Edward had said he’d be tied up in an important meeting. So when I pulled up to that familiar red-brick terrace in Leeds and saw his car parked outside, my chest tightened.
“Strange…” I whispered.
I decided to surprise him. Unlocking the door quietly, I slipped off my heels and tiptoed down the hallway, holding my breath. Voices drifted from the kitchen. I nearly called out—but froze. They were talking about me. Margaret and Edward.
“Eddie, listen to me…” Margaret’s tone was insistent. “This marriage was a mistake. I’ve held my tongue, but no more. She’s not right for you. No family background, no dowry. No breeding, no brains.”
“Mum—”
“Oh, don’t ‘Mum’ me! That forced smile of hers, always off with the fairies. No style, no taste. No common sense. Scribbling away as if it’s a proper job. What is she? A poet? Will you feed your children on rhymes?”
“Mum, stop…” Edward’s voice wavered.
“Just look at Charlotte—Irene’s daughter. Well-mannered, educated, beautiful, owns her flat, parents with money. And this one of yours… What has she given you, besides that perpetually hungry look?”
My insides turned to ice. I leaned against the wall, the words lashing like whips. “Useless. Scheming. No future.”
“She’s good-hearted…” Edward tried weakly. “I love her.”
“Love, love… Think of your future. Your children. Will you support her forever? She can’t even dress properly.”
I couldn’t bear it. I turned, slipped out, and stumbled away without looking back. The bitter autumn wind stung my cheeks, tears falling unchecked. Her words looped in my head: “not right… no style… can’t even…”
Evening found me in a café, staring into a cold cup of tea. I called Edward.
“I won’t be coming. I was at your mum’s. I heard everything.”
“W-what?!” he stammered.
“All of it. How I’m not good enough. How I’m talentless. How I don’t even deserve your name.”
Silence.
“Emily… Mum’s just—she worries…”
“For you, or for her pride?”
I hung up. I returned home late, brushed past his apologies, and shut myself in the bedroom. The days that followed were frigid—like the streets outside. I avoided him, moving through life in a daze. Then… one morning, brewing my usual tea, a wave of nausea hit me. Dizziness. A missed period, this strange fatigue…
I bought a test. Two lines.
Pregnant.
The one thing I’d longed for. Now, it felt like a punishment.
“I’m pregnant,” I told him that evening.
Edward paled, then beamed.
“Really? That’s brilliant!”
“Really. But I’m not sure… if I want to keep it. Not with your mother… her words…”
He pulled me close.
“You’re not alone. We’ll be a family. A real one. Mum won’t live forever. But this baby? It’s ours. I’m with you.”
The next day, we visited Margaret.
“Mum…” Edward began, gripping my hand. “We’re having a baby.”
She stiffened. Then—a glimmer. Tears or light, I couldn’t tell.
“You… you mean it? Good heavens… I’ll be a grandmother?!”
She rushed to me, hugged me tightly. Warm. Sincere.
“Forgive me, love. I’ve been cruel. A silly old woman. But this—this is a miracle. You’ll give us an angel.”
The kettle whistled in the kitchen. Suddenly, there was movement, chatter.
Edward and I exchanged a glance. And for the first time in so long—we smiled. Perhaps this was where it all truly began.
