Didnt you go to your own sons wedding?
Gillian, have you lost your mind? Its your only sons wedding and youre just sitting here, sipping tea!
Lydia Vickery stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on her hips, eyes blazing with righteous anger. Gillian didnt even look up from her mug.
Sit down, youre already here. The kettles hot.
What tea? Lydia crossed to the kitchen, flopped onto the chair opposite. Its half past one. In an hour Arthur will walk down the aisle and youre still here
Im not going anywhere, Gillian said, taking a sip and staring out the window. Dont try to convince me.
Lydia fell silent, studying her friends face. They had been friends for forty years, since school, and Lydia knew Gillian like the back of her hand. But this was new.
Whats happened? she asked more gently. You two seemed to have patched things up after that argument.
Gillian smirked.
We patched up. He called two days ago and said, Come if you want, Mum, if you want. As if I were going to a market stall, not my own childs wedding.
Maybe he didnt mean it that way?
Lydia, Gillian turned to her, tears glinting, Im fortynine. I raised him alone, no husband. Two jobs to make ends meet, nightshifts when he was sick, sleepless nights when he needed me. And now Im a burden, an extra weight.
Lydia reached out and covered Gillians hand.
Tell me everything, from the start.
Gillian poured a fresh cup for Lydia, fetched biscuits, and sighed heavily.
It began six months ago. Arthur brought home Poppy. Tall, slender, stunning. At first I was thrilledfinally my son was in a serious relationship. Hes twentyseven now. I invited them over, said Id cook dinner.
And Poppy?
She walked in, glanced around and you could tell she wasnt impressed. Our flat is a modest twobed council house, dated wallpaper, secondhand furniture, but clean. I spent the whole day tidying, baked pies.
Lydia remembered that evening: Gillian in her best blouse, hair done, the table set with the old family china.
Poppy perched on the edge of a chair like she didnt want to get dirty. She smiled, but her eyes were cold. I asked what she did. I work in marketing, running projects, she said, then added, Your Arthur is talented, a shame hes still stuck in a regular job.
Lydia snorted.
At first I didnt get it, then I realised she was implying I hadnt helped him grow. Im a nurse at a health centre, barely earning anything. Arthur graduated from university, works as a programmer, earns a good salary, rents a flat in a new development. Im proud of him.
Of course you are, Lydia nodded. What happened next?
We ate, we talked. Poppy kept bragging about her successes, her projects, her earnings. Then she asked, Gillian, have you ever thought of moving into a care home? They have good care and youd be among people your age.
Lydias mouth fell open.
Youre serious?
I was stunned. Arthur just stared at his plate. I said, Im fortyeight, a care home? I work, Im healthy. She smiled, Just thinking ahead, so I dont become a burden to Arthur.
Gillian rose and went to the window. The spring sun shone, a perfect May day. Somewhere Arthur was getting ready, nervous, adjusting his tie, while she sat inside.
After dinner they left. Arthur hugged me, said, Dont mind her, Mum, shes just practical. Practical, as if she were a piece of furniture to be replaced.
You kept quiet?
No, I called him later, told him everything I thought. I asked, Is this your opinion or hers? He snapped, saying I was jealous, that I needed to let him go, that he was an adult and could choose who to live with.
Lydia shook her head.
Kids can be cruel, they dont understand.
We fought, he didnt call for a month. I thought Id lost him forever. Then he came back, begged forgiveness, said he loved me and that I would always be the most important person in his life. I believed him.
Gillian returned to the table, the tea long cold, but she finished it.
A month later they announced the engagement. Arthur called, ecstatic, Mum, were getting married! I congratulated him, asked when. He said, Soon, weve already booked a restaurant. Come Saturday, well go over the details.
Did you go?
I did. Their flat was huge, bright, newly renovated, brandnew furniture. Poppy greeted me coldly, like a health inspector. She led me to the living room, didnt even offer tea.
Lydia clicked her tongue.
Rude.
They showed me the guest listseventy people, none of my friends. I asked, What about my friend Lydia? He and Poppy looked at each other, said, Mum, we have limited seats, only close friends and colleagues. I stayed silent while they talked about the banquet hall, the menu, all exorbitant. I sat and wondered where I fit in.
Outside a flock of sparrows settled on a old poplar. As a child Arthur used to feed them bread crumbs from the kitchen window.
Then Poppy said, Gillian, we need to discuss something important. Arthur and I thought you might not mind taking out a loan for the wedding. Well contribute, but extra money would help.
Lydia leapt up. She asked you to take out a loan for their wedding?
Yes. I thought Id misheard. I said, Are you serious? I earn thirty thousand pounds a year, no one would give me a loan. And why should I borrow when you both earn well? She replied, Were saving for a bigger flat in the city centre. Usually parents cover the wedding.
Lydia flushed with anger.
I looked at Arthur, he stared at the floor. It hit mehed agreed with her. He expected me to pay for a wedding I wasnt even invited to.
Gillians legs trembled as she paced the kitchen. I refused. I told them, Youre adults, you earn your own money. Ill help what I can, but I wont take a loan. Poppy pursed her lips, Its selfish of you to block our happiness. Id spent thirty years giving everything for him, and now Im selfish?
What about Arthur?
He stood, escorted me to the door, said, Dont be angry, Mum. Poppy is used to her parents paying everything. Id like to help, but we cant afford a lavish wedding.
Lydia poured more tea for both of them. The silence stretched. Stories like this happen often when children marry, but when its your own life, staying silent is impossible.
I left that night, crying in the street. My neighbour, Aunt Valerie from the fifth floor, called, Gillian, why are you so upset? I told her everything. She said, You know Poppy tells everyone that youre a burden, that you hold them back.
Lydia gasped.
Really?
Exactly. She complained on the lift that her motherinlaw is oldfashioned and that its embarrassing to invite her to the wedding, that shell see less of me afterwards.
Gillian covered her face with her hands, the memory painful.
I didnt call Arthur right away. I waited, hoping hed come and explain. Weeks passed in silence. Then a message: Mum, the weddings this Saturday. Invitation to follow.
Did he send it?
An email, just a link and the venue address. No warm words. I realised hed become a stranger, his wife his priority, and I was just an obligation.
Lydia sighed.
Maybe shes the influence? Maybe he isnt really like that?
Hes twentyseven, a grown man. If he wanted to protect you hed have. Hes choosing to stay silent, so it must be convenient for him.
Music drifted from the next flat, neighbours switched on the TV. Gillian checked the clockhalf past two. Guests were probably gathering now. Poppy, in a white dress, looking radiant, Arthur nervous. And she was missing.
Did you ever tell him you wouldnt go?
Yes, yesterday. Arthur, I wont come. He was silent, then asked why. I said, Because Im not wanted, because Im a burden. He tried to excuse himself, We do want you, Mum, but I pressed, Is it really what Poppy wants? He finally said, Come if you want.
Lydia repeated, If you want.
Exactly. I chose not to go. I didnt want to sit among strangers feeling useless, to endure Poppys condescending stare, to fake that everything was fine.
Gillian went to the fridge, pulled out the pies shed baked the day before, as if Arthur might stop by before the ceremony. She offered one to Lydia.
Eat it, she said.
Lydia took the pie but set it aside, looking at Gillian.
Do you regret not going? Its a onceinalifetime thing.
Gillian thought. Regret? Of course I wanted to be there, to see my boy walk down the aisle, to hug him, to wish the newlyweds a long life. But it would have hurt more to be there just to be tolerated.
I spent thirty years putting my life on his behalfskipping meals, losing sleep, never caring for myself. I thought hed be grateful, love me, look after me. Instead he sees me as a weight, a place in a care home. Let him live without me then.
Are you angry with him?
No, just hurt. I lost my son, you know? Hes alive, healthy, somewhere nearby, but the boy I raised has vanished, replaced by a stranger.
Lydia stood and embraced her friend. Gillian pressed against her shoulder, tears finally flowing freely, quiet sobs about broken hopes and unspoken thanks.
Maybe it can still be fixed, Lydia whispered, rubbing her back. Maybe hell see and change.
It wont, Gillian pulled away, wiping her eyes. Poppy wont change. Shell keep pushing him away from me. I know that now. Im not blind.
They sat in silence, sipping the cooling tea. Eventually Lydia left, promising to check back later. Gillian remained alone in the empty flat, turned the TV on but could not watch. Memories of Arthur as a child flooded backbringing dandelions, drawing cards for Mothers Day, saying, Mum, I love you more than anyone.
Where is that boy now?
The phone rang sharply. It was Arthur. She stared at his name, then let it go to voicemail. A text followed: Mum, why arent you answering? The weddings already under way, everyones asking where you are.
She placed the phone on the table, typed back: I wish you happiness. Take care of yourself.
Arthur called again. She didnt pick up. New messages buzzed, she ignored them. She walked to the bedroom, lay on the bed, the silence pressing on her ears. Was she right to stay away? Could she have gone for the sake of appearances?
No. She had spent her life for othersArthur, work, everyones expectations. It was time to live for herself.
That evening Lydia called, asked how she was. Gillian said she was fine, asked her not to come over, needed solitude. She went to bed early, but sleep eluded her. She lay in the dark listening to traffic, a distant dog barking, thinking about the future, about her relationship with Arthur.
Morning arrived with a knock. Arthur stood there in a rumpled suit, eyes red from lack of sleep.
May I come in? he asked quietly.
She stepped aside, letting him in. He sat on the same chair Lydia had used. Gillian put the kettle on, poured tea, placed a cup before him. They sat in silence.
You didnt come, Arthur finally said.
I didnt.
Why?
She looked at himher son, grown yet so foreign.
Because I wasnt wanted, she answered simply. Because I realised Im no longer needed.
Its not true
Arthur, you chose her wishes over mine. You let her treat me like an inconvenience.
He covered his face with his hands.
Im ashamed, Mum.
She poured tea, set it down.
I stood at the altar today, he said, voice breaking, and I looked aroundwhere were you? I felt guilty. I let Poppys ambitions drown out my love for you. I was a fool.
Yes, you were.
I told Poppy that if she never respects you, Ill leave her. I shouted at the reception, told everyone you matter more than any fancy décor.
What happened?
She ran to the bathroom, cried, then came back apologising. She said shed try to change. I dont know how sincere she is, but I promised her Id protect you.
Gillian felt a warmth spread through her chest. Her boy had returned, if only for a moment.
I want to fix this, Arthur reached across the table, grasping her hand. I want you to be part of my life, my family. I love you, Mum, always have, always will.
She squeezed his hand.
I love you too, she whispered. It hurt, but Im glad you finally see it.
He smiled, relief evident.
Poppy wants to talk with you, he said. Will you let her in?
Gillian thought. She didnt want to see her again, but if they truly wanted to mend things, she would try.
Let her in, she said. Well see.
Arthur rose, hugged his mother tightly, pressing his cheek to her shoulder. She returned the embrace, burying her face in his. The boy she raised had stumbled, but he had found the courage to own his mistake. That was worth everything.
Later, a message from Lydia pinged: Hows it going?
Gillian typed back: Arthur stopped by. I think things are looking up.
Life is unpredictablepainful one day, hopeful the next. The essential lesson is to never lose hope and to remember that even in the toughest moments there is a way forward, often found by standing up for yourself and letting those who truly love you back in.
She went to the kitchen, fetched flour, eggs, sugar, and began preparing a cake. If Arthur and Poppy came over that evening, shed have something sweet to offer. The wounds were still fresh, but the first step toward reconciliation had been taken.
The real victory was that she hadnt betrayed her own feelings by attending a wedding that made her feel worthless. She had defended her dignity. Sometimes saying no to those closest to you is necessary, because you are a person with feelings, not a convenience for anyone else.
If Arthur learns this lesson, then she knows she did the right thing.
