Chapter 4: Privacy, Promises, and Pain

At dinner, my son suddenly told me not to prepare dinner for the three of them tomorrow.

He came into the kitchen, voice casual. “Mom, don’t worry about dinner for us tomorrow. We’ve got a wedding to go to—my boss’s son is getting married.”

He explained it like it was no big deal, but I felt a little pang—Mother’s Day, and they’d be out celebrating someone else’s milestone instead of ours. Of course. Why would today be any different?

I nodded lightly, hiding my disappointment, and agreed.

I forced a smile, keeping my voice even. “Alright, have a good time.” I didn’t let on how much it stung.

“Oh, by the way, I found a receipt for a bracelet in your room today. Thought you might need it later, so—”

I tried to sound casual, just letting them know. I didn’t want to be accused of snooping, just being helpful.

My daughter-in-law’s face darkened and she cut me off sharply. “Linda, how many times have I told you not to go through our things? Why are you so rude?”

Her words were sharp, her tone accusing. The room went cold, the air thick with tension. I felt my face flush, embarrassment prickling at my skin. I hadn’t meant any harm.

I was stunned.

I froze, the words catching in my throat. I hadn’t meant any harm, but suddenly I was the villain.

My face started to burn with embarrassment.

I stared at the floor, wishing I could disappear. The silence was deafening, everyone waiting to see what I’d do next.

I looked to my son, hoping he’d say something for me.

I searched his face, hoping for backup, for understanding. But he just looked away, jaw tight.

He just frowned. “Mom, you really shouldn’t have done that. We’re a married couple—we deserve some privacy. Next time, don’t go into our room without Emily’s permission.”

His words landed heavy, disappointment etched across his face. I felt like a child being scolded, not a mother who’d spent years taking care of this family. All those years, and now this.

I was already holding back my frustration, and hearing my son take her side without even asking for the full story made my temples throb.

A headache bloomed behind my eyes, anger and hurt mixing until I could barely think straight. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I only picked up the receipt while sweeping. I was just reminding you—I put it on the nightstand.”

I tried to explain, voice shaking. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear. Just found it on the floor.”

With that, I set my fork down hard and turned to go to my own room.

The clatter echoed in the silence. I stood up, back stiff, and walked away, refusing to let them see the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

My son realized he’d gone too far and saw I was really upset.

He called after me, voice softer now, regret creeping in. I didn’t turn around.

No sooner had I gone in than he followed me.

He knocked softly, then slipped inside, his face apologetic. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder with a sheepish grin. “Mom, I’m sorry, it’s my fault!”

He pulled me close, the way he used to when he was little and wanted to make up after a fight. I could hear the little boy in his voice.

“Emily knows she misunderstood you too. Please, don’t hold it against us—let it go, okay?”

He pleaded, his words tumbling over each other. “She didn’t mean it. She’s just stressed. Please, Mom, let’s not fight.”

I turned my face away, not wanting to answer him.

I stared out the window, blinking back tears. I didn’t want him to see how much it hurt.

“Mom, you haven’t finished eating yet. I’ll bring your food in.”

He tried to coax me, voice soft. “Come on, at least eat something. You can’t go to bed hungry.”

No need. I’m already full—of anger!

I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. The words hung in the air, final and heavy.

I shooed him out.

I waved my hand, turning away. “Just go. I need some time.”

He wouldn’t leave, hanging around and pestering me until I managed a forced smile. Only then did he leave, relieved.

He lingered in the doorway, searching my face for forgiveness. I forced a smile, just enough to send him away. The relief on his face was almost comical.

Outside, he and my daughter-in-law argued in hushed voices.

I heard their voices drifting down the hall, muffled but tense. The walls in this apartment were thin—secrets didn’t stay hidden for long.

“What’s with your mom? All I did was say one thing, and she blew up. I bet she’s just using this as an excuse to get out of washing dishes!”

Emily’s voice was sharp, her words slicing through the quiet. I bit my lip, wishing I could disappear.

“Could you keep your voice down? Do you want my mom to hear you? She’s not like that—you just didn’t hear the whole story before you spoke.”

My son tried to defend me, his voice low and urgent. I could hear the strain, the effort to keep the peace.

“So you’re saying I’m wrong? Fine, you and your mom are on one side, and I’m the outsider. I’ll take Mason and leave. I’ll get rid of this baby tomorrow and leave you two with all the space you want!”

Her words were dramatic, heavy with threat. I knew she didn’t mean it, but the tension was real, and it made my stomach twist.

“You’re not wrong, and neither is my mom—it’s all my fault! Please, honey, don’t say things like that. You’re pregnant; you shouldn’t get so worked up!”

My son’s voice was pleading, desperate to calm her down. I heard the chair scrape, the clink of dishes as he tried to distract her.

Then you wash the dishes! I’m not doing them. I work all day and I’m pregnant, not like someone else who just lounges around the house!

She huffed, her footsteps retreating down the hall. I could picture her, arms crossed, glaring at the world.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it… I’ll do it…”

My son’s voice faded, weary and resigned. I felt a pang of sympathy, but also a flicker of resentment—why was it always me picking up the pieces?

My daughter-in-law is pregnant?

The realization hit me. Surprise, then worry. I hadn’t known, but suddenly it explained so much—the mood swings, the fatigue, the extra caution. I sighed and let the weight of it settle on my shoulders.

I sighed in my room.

I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. The house felt too big, too empty, even with everyone home. Funny how lonely a full house can feel.

Even before Emily was pregnant, my son always did whatever she wanted. Now that she’s expecting, he’s even more careful with her—afraid to let her fall, afraid to let her down.

He hovered around her, fetching snacks, fluffing pillows, running errands at her slightest request. I watched him sometimes, wondering if he’d ever been that attentive to me.

After all, we live under the same roof. It’s best not to make things too ugly. Sooner or later, everyone will calm down and move on.

I told myself to let it go, to keep the peace for the sake of the family. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe.

But the real falling out with my son’s family happened the next day.

I didn’t know it yet, but things were about to change, and not for the better.