You can divorce a husband, but you can’t escape your children!
“Come in quick! My sister’s here!” called Emily to her neighbour Charlotte as soon as she appeared at the door of their house in Manchester.
“Elizabeth? No way! It’s been years!” gasped Charlotte, stepping into the cosy kitchen.
Seated on a chair was a stately woman with a weary but warm smile. The moment she saw Charlotte, Elizabeth leapt up and threw her arms around her. They’d been friends since childhood, sharing joys and tears, and now, after all this time, it felt like stepping back into those carefree days.
“We ought to celebrate! Two years apart!” Charlotte suggested, and soon the women settled around the table, deep in conversation. Each had her own story, woven with happiness and pain—life’s usual gifts.
Elizabeth had been widowed six years ago. Her husband, Thomas, had died in a car crash alongside his mistress. For a whole year, he’d led a double life, and Elizabeth had noticed nothing. She had sensed something was off between them, but for the sake of their children—a son and a daughter—she’d fought to hold the marriage together. They adored their father, and she couldn’t bear to shatter their world.
But the accident changed everything. The children, shattered by the loss, took years to recover. Elizabeth, crushed by grief herself, tried to be their rock, but the pain ate away at their family from within.
“My William is an absolute tyrant!” Charlotte sighed, sipping her tea. “Read about toxic relationships online—everything fits him. Thank goodness I kicked him out before he grew completely unbearable.”
“Husbands are one thing,” Elizabeth said bitterly. “You can divorce them. But children… you can’t escape children. After Thomas died, mine went off the rails. We all grieved, but my son… he started blaming me for everything. Said it was my fault his father took up with another woman—that our rows wrecked his nerves, and that’s why he crashed. Now my son despises me. Told me he wished I’d died instead of his father. Can you imagine, Charlotte? That he’d rather…”
She fell silent, her voice trembling, eyes brimming with tears. Charlotte and Emily sat frozen, lost for words. Elizabeth exhaled before continuing.
“He’s become a proper tyrant. Only nineteen, and I’m afraid of him. It’s not just the insults—he’s started lashing out. I put up with it because… what else can I do? Report my own son? He even harasses my sister now, just for standing up for me. The other day, he flew into such a rage he slammed her head into the corner of the table—just because we went for a walk together. Of course, he apologised after, but the next day he was back to his old ways. I’m praying the army will knock some sense into him. My daughter and I fled here just to get a break from his cruelty.”
Charlotte’s heart clenched as she watched her friend. She knew how much Elizabeth was suffering but couldn’t find the right words. Emily, Elizabeth’s sister, sat quietly, fiddling with a napkin, her own eyes glistening.
“You know,” Elizabeth went on, “I keep asking myself—where did I go wrong? I tried 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 carry on.”
“It’s unbearable,” Charlotte murmured. “How can he treat his own mother like that? He ought to see you’re not to blame!”
“He doesn’t want to see,” Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s easier for him to hate. And I’m terrified he’ll ruin not just my life, but my sister’s too. She puts up with his tantrums for my sake.”
Emily finally looked up. “Liz, I don’t regret standing by you. He’s your son, but this can’t go on. We’ve got to do something. Maybe talk to him? Or get him to a therapist?”
“A therapist?” Elizabeth gave a hollow laugh. “He wouldn’t even listen. Says it’s all my fault, end of story.”
The silence in the kitchen grew heavy, thick as storm clouds. Each woman felt the other’s pain, yet none knew how to ease it. Trying to lighten the mood, Charlotte raised her mug.
“Ladies, let’s drink… to us. To finding the strength to go on, no matter what husbands or children do to break our hearts.”
Elizabeth and Emily managed weak smiles, but their eyes still shimmered with tears. They clinked glasses, yet there was no joy in the toast. Elizabeth stared out the window, where dusk was gathering, and thought of her son. She still loved him, despite everything. But deep down, she feared that love might be her undoing.
