My son had always been my friend and my rock throughout my life, but after he got married we turned into strangers.
He had been a constant companion and pillar, yet his marriage altered everything.
I never imagined my child could change so drastically under someone elses influence. My only son, Alexandre, grew up as a golden boypolite, kind, always ready to lend a hand. He kept that demeanor into adulthood. Before he wed, we were inseparable: we met often, talked for hours about everything and nothing, shared our sorrows and joys, and supported each other. Of course, I respected reasonable boundaries and didnt intervene beyond what was necessary. Everything collapsed the moment Marine entered his life.
For their wedding, Alexandre and Marine received from his parents a newly renovated oneroom apartment right in the heart of Lyon. It became their little nest. I was never invited over, but Alexandre showed me photos on his phone: bright walls, brandnew furniture, a cozy atmosphere. After my husbands death I was left with no savings, so I decided to pass almost all of my jewelrygold chains, rings, earrings collected over the yearsto the young couple. I told Marine, If you want to melt them down, I dont mind. I wanted to help them start their life together.
But Marine revealed her true character immediately. She is sharpedged, cutting like a blade. I noticed how she rifled through the wedding envelopes stuffed with money, her curiosity about the amounts unsettling me. That trait could make a good wife, yet it also warned me to stay on guard. Nowadays many women treat their husbands as wallets, spend his money as their own, then divorce, take half, and hunt for a new target. I dont want that fate for Alexandre, but the worry gnaws at me.
Six months after the ceremony, Marine announced she didnt want children yet. Not now, she said, in this tiny flat its impossible. She raised her hands and added, What can we do? I dont want to take a loan, and we dont know when well afford a bigger place. Alexandre isnt a big boss yet. She spoke aloud, but I sensed the calculation in her tone. Meanwhile, I live in the house my late husband began to build; it remains unfinished, with holes in the walls, and winter brings a bonechilling coldmy pension cant fully heat it. Then Marine suggested, Sell your house, buy a studio for yourself, and give us the remainder to get a new apartment. Then well think about kids.
Do you see what that means? She wants an elderly, frail woman to disappear into a tiny space while they claim the best of everything. Perhaps theyll even push me into a retirement home. At first I considered agreeingif only they helped me financially once a month. Now? Never! With someone like Marine, you must stay vigilant; she can strike at any moment.
After that discussion Alexandre visited me several times, subtly hinting that his idea wasnt so terrible: Why do you need a big house? It would be easier to live in an apartment with lower charges. I held my ground: The city is expanding; in five to ten years property values will rise. My land is no longer on the outskirtsselling now would be foolish. One day I proposed an exchange: they would move into my house, and I would take their studio. After all, its the same, right? Marine refused. She didnt want a house that needed repairs and investment while she could live carefree in a gifted apartment. She craves comfort, even if my proposal benefits us both. Thats just how she is, and nothing can change it.
Then I fell seriously ill, to the bone. Confined to bed with fever, cough, and excruciating headaches, I called Alexandre, begging him to bring supplies and medicine. I knew the young couple was busy, but I lacked the strength even to boil water. I never imagined he would abandon everything for me. He finally arrived the next day, handed me a packet of Fervex powder, left an unwrapped box of probably expired aspirin on the table, shrugged, and left. Fortunately a friend came to my rescue, delivering soup, medication, and everything I needed. If she hadnt been there, what would have become of me?
My son had been my light, my support all my life. I trusted him blindlyhe was more than a child, a friend, a part of myself. Yet marriage erased all that. We are now strangers, and I am powerless to mend it. He is my only child, my love, my pride, but now his heart belongs elsewhere. Marine placed herself between us like a wall, and I am left on the other sidealone, abandoned, useless. Reason tells me the bond is broken. He must choose: his mother or his wife. The choice is as clear as day. Still, my heart clings to the hope that he will remember what I have been to him and return. Each day, however, that hope melts like snow under a foreign sun.
