“Did you buy a gift for just your mum again and forget about me?” Anne said with bitterness.
The New Year’s Eve filled the apartment with scents of oranges and cinnamon. Anne, in her new silk scarf, conjured magic over the festive table. Grace, elegant in a floral scarf, was helping her with the salads.
Image a new beginning:
Snow fell in large flakes, covering London’s streets with a white blanket. Only two days were left until the New Year. Anne stood by the window of their twelfth-floor flat, absently watching the snowfall. In the distance, Christmas lights flickered, and decorated Christmas trees could already be seen in neighboring windows.
On the coffee table lay a small box tied with a gold ribbon—a gift for her mother-in-law. Anne had picked it out herself: an exquisite floral scarf with traditional designs. Grace had dreamed of having one like it. “I hope William likes my choice,” Anne thought, adjusting the bow on the package for the hundredth time.
The sound of a key turning in the lock startled her. William entered, holding a large bag from a fancy shop.
“Can you believe it? I barely made it!” he said excitedly, shaking the snow from his coat. “It was the last one. Mum is going to love it!”
Anne froze. Her heart skipped a beat.
“What’s inside?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“That cashmere cardigan she spotted in Harrods last month. Remember she mentioned it?” William pulled out the luxurious dark chocolate-colored item.
Anne remembered. Just as she remembered that the cardigan cost nearly half her monthly salary. And she also remembered showing William the silk scarf she liked two weeks ago… He had nodded absently and changed the topic.
“Did you buy another gift just for your mum and forget about me?” The words escaped her on their own, filled with the bitterness of long-standing resentment.
William halted with the cardigan in his hands. Surprise flickered across his face, soon replaced by mild annoyance.
“Anne, you know how important Mum is to me,” he carefully placed the cardigan back in the bag. “She’s my only one. Besides, we didn’t agree on gifts this year…”
Anne turned to the window. Outside, the snow continued to fall, as cold as the emptiness growing inside her.
“We never agree, William. You just every time…” she didn’t finish, feeling her voice betray her with a tremble.
The sound of keys jingling in the hallway announced Grace’s arrival. They had planned to discuss the New Year’s menu together that evening. Anne quickly wiped her eyes with her hand and forced a smile.
“Oh, it’s nice to see you both at home!” Grace entered, carrying a bag of oranges. “I was thinking: should we make a ‘Potato Salad’ like last year?”
Anne mechanically nodded, avoiding eye contact with her mother-in-law. Her throat constricted, and her hands trembled slightly as she moved the gift from the coffee table.
“Mum, let me help,” William picked up the bag of oranges, but Grace paused in the doorway, observing her son and daughter-in-law closely.
“Is something wrong?” she quietly asked. Over fifteen years of her son’s marriage, she had learned to sense tension between the young couple.
“Nothing,” William answered too quickly. “Everything’s fine.”
“Yes, everything’s perfect,” Anne couldn’t hold back the bitter irony. “As usual. William bought Mum a gift. The cardigan. The one from Harrods.”
Grace paled as the situation dawned on her.
“William, but we spoke about this…” she began.
“Mum, don’t start,” her son interrupted. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. What’s wrong with that?”
Anne turned sharply to her husband:
“The problem is, you can’t see past the end of your nose! Fifteen years, William. Fifteen years I’ve felt like I’m second. Every holiday, every weekend—everything revolves around your mum. Her wishes, her plans, her gifts…”
“Annie, my dear…” Grace stepped toward her daughter-in-law, but Anne moved away.
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s all him,” Anne gestured towards her husband. “’Mum’s important to me,’ ‘She’s my only one’… But what am I? Just an accessory to family life?”
“You’re being unfair!” William flared up. “Don’t I do enough for you?”
“Do you?” Anne laughed bitterly. “You can’t even remember what I told you two weeks ago. About the scarf I liked. You nodded and then forgot. But you remember the cardigan for Mum perfectly!”
A heavy silence settled in the room. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall marked the seconds of tense silence.
“I… I think I’ll go,” Grace said quietly. “We’ll discuss the menu tomorrow.”
“Mum, stay…” William started.
“No, dear. You need to talk. It’s long overdue.”
The door quietly closed behind the mother-in-law. Anne stood frozen at the window, hugging her shoulders—a long-standing habit that emerged when she felt particularly burdened.
Instead of heading home, Grace wandered down the snow-covered street. Snowflakes landed on her face, dissolving into unsolicited tears. “How blind I’ve been all these years…” flashed through her mind.
The phone in her pocket vibrated. William.
“Mum, where are you? I’ll come down for you.”
“I’m at the little park, by the bench,” she replied. “You know, we do need to talk.”
Five minutes later, William, having thrown a jacket over his home sweater, was already sitting next to her. The snow continued its descent, cloaking their shoulders in a white cover.
“Son,” Grace took his hand. “Remember how you used to love doing jigsaw puzzles as a kid?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” William asked, puzzled.
“It’s that you always started with the brightest piece. And then you couldn’t complete the whole picture because you didn’t see how all the pieces fit together.”
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
“And now you only see one bright piece—your love for me. But a family, William, is a whole picture. And Anne is a vital part of it.”
“Mum, but I love Anne!” he protested.
“You do. But do you show her that?” Grace sighed. “You know what’s most terrifying for a woman? Feeling invisible. Especially to the one she loves.”
William remained silent, watching the falling snow.
“Do you think I need this cardigan?” she continued. “What I want is for my son to be happy. And that’s only possible if your wife is happy too. I see how hard she tries for our family. She cooks my favorite dishes, remembers all the important dates—even this scarf…”
“What scarf?”
“The one she chose for me. I accidentally saw it on the table when I came in. It’s just the kind I’ve always dreamed of.”
William covered his eyes with his hand:
“My God, I’m such a fool…”
“You’re not a fool, son. You just… got caught up in one piece and forgot about the entire picture.”
Returning home, William paused by Harrods. The shop windows glowed with festive lights, reflecting on the freshly fallen snow. That very silk scarf was still there, as if waiting for him.
The apartment was silent. On the kitchen table was a cup of cold tea—Anne hadn’t even finished it.
“Anne?” he called, peeking into the bedroom.
She lay atop the bedspread, turned towards the wall. Shoulders trembled slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been a blind fool.”
“Fifteen years blind?” she responded, not turning.
“Yes. And an idiot every year,” he gently touched her shoulder. “You know, Mum mentioned something about puzzles. About how I’d get stuck on one bright piece and couldn’t see the whole picture.”
Anne slowly turned. Her eyes were red from tears.
“I’d always thought I needed to be the perfect son, and forgot about being a good husband,” he pulled out the scarf from the bag. “Recognize this?”
She propped up on her elbow, looking skeptically at the shimmering silk.
“William, you shouldn’t have. Not because of the scarf…”
“I know,” he held her hand. “It’s not about gifts. It’s that I didn’t see how much you care for both of us. For Mum too. That scarf you chose… It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I just want to feel that I’m important to you too. Not in words, but…”
“In action,” he finished. “And I’ll prove it. Not just today. Every day.”
The New Year’s Eve once again filled the apartment with the aroma of oranges and cinnamon. Anne, wearing her new silk scarf, conjured magic over the festive table. Grace, elegant in her floral scarf, assisted with the salads.
“Annie, your potato salad always has a special touch,” smiled her mother-in-law. “Can you teach me your secret?”
“Of course,” Anne found herself smiling sincerely in response. “I add a bit of apple cider vinegar to the mayonnaise. It’s my grandma’s recipe.”
William, watching them, secretly snapped a photo: the two most important women in his life, bent over the festive table, so different yet so dear.
“Ladies,” he cleared his throat to get their attention. “Before the clock strikes midnight, I want to say something.”
He produced two envelopes.
“Mum, this is for you,” he handed over the first envelope. “A ticket to the health spa you’ve dreamed of. Two weeks in the spring.”
Grace pressed a hand to her chest: “Oh, William…”
“And this,” he turned to Anne, “is for us. A trip to Venice for our anniversary. Fifteen years—it’s a significant milestone.”
Anne froze with a napkin in her hand: “But you said you have lots of work in the spring…”
“Work can wait,” he hugged her shoulders. “I’ve missed too much, focusing on the wrong things. It’s time to make up for it.”
Outside, the first firework of the New Year exploded. The colorful sparks reflected in Anne’s eyes, making them shine brightly.
“Happy New Year, my dears,” Grace said quietly, looking at them. “May this year be the beginning of something new. Something genuine.”
Anne leaned against her husband’s shoulder. The cashmere cardigan remained in the closet, but it no longer mattered. The warmth spreading in her heart was far more important—the warmth of knowing everything had finally fallen into place.
