I thought my daughter had a happy family until I visited them
When our Emily told us she was marrying a man eight years her senior, we didnt object. He made an excellent first impressionrefined, polite, considerate. Gregory knew how to charm. He showered our daughter with affection: flowers, holidays, gifts. And when he announced hed cover all the wedding expensesthe venue, the dress, the videographers, the décorI nearly cried. We were certain: our little girl was in good hands.
*»He runs his own business, Mum, dont worry,»* Emily would say. *»Hes well off, hes got everything under control.»*
Six months after the wedding, Gregory visited us with Emily. He walked through our flat without a word. The next day, technicians arrived to take measurements. A week later, workmen. And just like that, our old flat in Manchester was fitted with luxurious triple-glazed, soundproof windows. Then came the refurbished balcony, air conditioning, even the tiles were replaced.
My husband and I thanked him, bewildered, but he brushed it off with a wave: *»Small change. For my wifes parents, nothings too good.»* Of course, it pleased us. And how could we not be happy seeing our daughter so comfortable, so loved, with such a devoted husband?
Then their first child was born. It was like something out of a filmthe maternity ward exit with balloons, a tiny matching outfit, lace blankets, a photographer. Everything was lavish. My husband and I smiled, touched: *»Look at them, a happy family.»*
Two years later, a second child arrived. More gifts, more guests. But Emily seemed hollow. Tired eyes, a strained smile. At first, I thought it was postnatal fatigue. Two children arent easy. But with every phone call, I sensed she was hiding something.
I decided to visit. I let them know. I arrived one evening. Gregory wasnt there. Emily greeted me without warmth, the children played in their room, and I hugged them tight. My heart swelledgrandchildren, after all. Then, when they were distracted by cartoons, I gently asked my daughter:
«Emily, darling, whats wrong?»
She flinched, stared into the distance, then forced a smile.
«Everythings fine, Mum. Just tired.»
«Its not just tiredness. Youre empty. You dont laugh anymore, your eyes are sad. I know you, Emily. Tell me the truth.»
She hesitated. Then the front door slammedGregory was home. Seeing me, his expression flickered almost imperceptibly. He smiled, greeted me, but his eyes were cold, as if I were an inconvenience. And thats when I smelled itthat sickly sweet, undeniably feminine perfume. English, unmistakably a womans.
When he took off his jacket, I spotted lipstick on his collar. Pink. I couldnt help but murmur, bluntly:
«Gregory were you really at the office?»
He froze for a second. Then straightened, looked at me with icy calm, almost harshly, before replying:
«Jacqueline, with all due respect, stay out of our marriage. Yes, theres another woman. But it doesnt mean anything. For a man of my standing, its common. Emily knows. It doesnt change our family. We wont divorce. The children, my wifeeverythings under control. I provide, Im here. So dont fixate on details like lipstick.»
I clenched my jaw. Emily stood and slipped into the childrens room, eyes downcast. He went to shower as if nothing had happened. My heart shattered. I went to my daughter, held her close, and whispered:
«Emily you think this is normal? That he sleeps with someone else while you endure it? Is this what a family is?»
She shrugged and began to cry. Silently, as if the tears fell on their own. I stroked her back, saying nothing. There was so much to say, but it was pointless. The choice was hers. Stay with a man who thinks money excuses betrayal. Or choose herself.
She was trapped in this *»gilded cage,»* where on the surface, everything was perfect. Everythingexcept respect. And love, the real kind, where there are no lies, no contempt.
I left in the night. At home, sleep was impossible. My heart ached. I wanted to grab her and the children and run. But I knewuntil she decided, nothing would change. All I could do was be there. Wait. And hope that one day, Emily would choose herself.
