“Husbands you can divorce, but children are forever!”
“Come in quickly! My sister’s here!” called Charlotte to her neighbour Eleanor as soon as she appeared at the door of their home in Manchester.
“Emily? Is it really you? It’s been so long!” gasped Eleanor, stepping into the cosy kitchen.
Seated on a chair was a striking woman with a tired yet warm smile. The moment she spotted Eleanor, Emily leapt up and embraced her tightly. They had been friends since childhood, sharing joys and tears, and now, after years apart, their reunion felt like stepping back into carefree days.
“We must celebrate! Two whole years since we last met!” suggested Eleanor, and the women settled at the table, lost in conversation. Each had her own story, woven with both happiness and sorrow—gifts life had freely given.
Emily had been widowed six years earlier. Her husband, William, had died in a car crash alongside his mistress. For a year, he had led a double life, and Emily had noticed nothing. She had sensed something was amiss but, for the sake of their son and daughter, had fought to keep the marriage intact. They adored their father, and Emily couldn’t bear to shatter their world.
But the accident changed everything. The children, shattered by grief, struggled to recover. Emily, crushed by her own sorrow, tried to be their rock, but the pain gnawed at their family from within.
“My Oliver is an absolute tyrant!” sighed Eleanor, sipping her tea. “After reading about toxic relationships online, I realised—it’s him. Thank goodness I threw him out before he got worse.”
“Husbands are one thing,” Emily said bitterly. “You can divorce them. But children… you can’t walk away from them. After William died, mine fell apart. We all grieved, but my son… He started blaming me for everything. Said it was our fights that drove his father to another woman. That the stress made him crash. Now, he hates me. Told me he wished I’d died instead. Can you imagine, Eleanor? That I should—”
Her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes. Eleanor and Charlotte sat in silence, lost for words. Emily exhaled and continued, “He’s become a monster. Only 19, and I’m frightened of him. He doesn’t just insult me—he gets violent. I endure it because… what can I do? Report my own son? He even torments my sister for defending me. The other day, he slammed her head into the table corner just because we went for a walk together. Later, he apologised, but the next day, it started again. I pray the military might knock sense into him. My daughter and I fled here just to get away from his cruelty.”
Eleanor’s heart ached for her friend. She understood Emily’s pain but couldn’t find the right words to comfort her. Charlotte, Emily’s sister, sat quietly, twisting a napkin in her hands, her own eyes glistening.
“You know,” Emily murmured, “I keep wondering—where did I go wrong? I tried so hard to be a good mother, but my son sees me as the enemy. He blames me for everything wrong in his life. And I… I don’t know how to go on.”
“It’s unbearable,” Eleanor whispered. “How can he treat you this way? He *must* see you’re innocent!”
“He won’t,” Emily shook her head. “Hating me is easier. And I fear he’ll ruin not just my life but my sister’s too. She puts up with his outbursts for my sake.”
Charlotte finally looked up. “Emily, I don’t regret standing by you. He’s your son, but enough is enough. We must do something. Talk to him properly, or get him to see a therapist?”
“A therapist?” Emily gave a hollow laugh. “He’d never listen. Says it’s all my fault, end of story.”
The kitchen fell into a heavy silence, thick as storm clouds. Each woman felt the other’s pain yet had no way to ease it. Trying to lighten the mood, Eleanor raised her cup. “Ladies, a toast… to us. To finding the strength to carry on, no matter how husbands or children break our hearts.”
Emily and Charlotte managed weak smiles, though their eyes still shone with tears. They clinked glasses, but there was no joy in the gesture. Emily gazed out the window where dusk gathered, her thoughts on her son. Despite everything, she still loved him. But deep down, she feared that love might be her undoing.
Some bonds can’t be undone—even when they hurt the most.
