Valerie had been working since she was sixteen and started her family at twenty-nine. She tried not to spoil her son, Mark, but she wasn't overly strict either; in short, she found the perfect middle ground in raising him.
Tragedy struck Valerie's husband when he suffered a stroke at fifty-five. He lived for only a year after that. At the time, Mark was twenty-three and stepped up to support his mother through that dark period. But a young man's life couldn't stay on hold forever. He needed to find a wife, build a career, and think about buying a home.
Valerie understood that her son couldn't mourn indefinitely, so she was mentally prepared for the day Mark would bring a fiancé home. That day came a year later when Mark decided to introduce his mother to his girlfriend, Tiffany. Enough time had passed since his father's death for Mark to shift from grief to romance, but the moment Valerie laid eyes on Tiffany, she knew the girl wasn't right for him.
Mark was well-bred and patient; Tiffany was demanding and temperamental. During the introduction, Valerie noticed the way the girl glanced disdainfully at the old stove where dinner was simmering, the leaky faucet they hadn't yet found the money to fix, and the other flaws of their modest apartment. Nevertheless, Valerie tried not to let her feelings show. Mark was so head-over-heels that he didn't seem to notice his girlfriend's shortcomings.
Tiffany quickly grew bored with the older woman's company and bid her boyfriend's mother a careless farewell, announcing she had a manicure appointment.
"Well, if you have to go, you have to go," Valerie said, gesturing toward the door. "Stop by again sometime."
"Yes, yes, of course," Tiffany said, glancing at Mark. "Are you coming?"
"To your nail appointment?" Mark chuckled, but Tiffany didn't appreciate the joke. "No, I'm going to stay with Mom a bit longer."
"Fine, suit yourself. Have a nice day," Tiffany said saccharinely, forcing a fake smile. Valerie nodded and closed the door behind her.
"Whew," Valerie couldn't help but sigh in relief. "Mark, please don't tell me she's the one."
"What's wrong with her?" he asked.
"What's wrong? She's just so... fake," Valerie shrugged, heading back to the kitchen. "She'll stay with you as long as it's convenient for her. Or for some other reason. She doesn't love you!"
"Mom, what are you talking about?" Mark waved her off. "She's just in a bad mood today, but she was trying to make a good impression."
"Oh, I saw her 'efforts' alright." Valerie looked out the window as Tiffany climbed into an Uber. "No, Mark, that girl isn't for you."
"Yeah," the young man sighed. "I figured this is how it would go."
"What do you mean?"
Mark walked over to his mother, sat beside her, and patted her hand.
"Mom, I get it. Dad is gone, and for you, it feels like the end of the world. I know you want me to be the rock for you that he was. And I'm not trying to run away from that responsibility! I'm always ready to help you with whatever you need. But I have to build my own family, too, you know? Tiffany is a great girl. I'm sure you two will find common ground eventually. For now, please, don't judge her so harshly."
Valerie was literally speechless for a moment. Of course, she hadn't forgotten her husband, but she was wise enough to know her son wouldn't stay by her side forever. Mark did need to build his own family—but not with her, not with this girl. How could he not see it?
It stung to hear her son accuse her of bias, but she felt deeply sorry for him, fearing he might marry someone so calculating.
"Mark, I understand. But please, think twice before you propose. Just watch and see if you're truly a match."
"Of course we are!" Mark exclaimed. "I never thought you'd be so hostile toward her. Honestly, Mom, I'm not in the mood to talk about Tiffany anymore. I think I'll just head home."
"Alright," Valerie sighed. She didn't want to cause a scene, and her gut told her that was exactly what would happen if he stayed any longer. "But just think about what I said. I'll think about your point of view, and you think about mine, okay?"
"Fine," Mark muttered.
***
A couple of months passed. Mark called his mother less frequently, usually just for practical reasons—asking if she needed groceries or how her health was. He stubbornly refused to talk about his relationship, and eventually, Valerie gave up. She knew exactly where this was headed and braced herself for the fact that Mark would marry Tiffany anyway.
Her intuition didn't fail her. One day, Mark called and asked if he could drop by. Valerie was happy, as his visits had become rare. However, the reason for the visit didn't exactly please her. The moment he walked through the door, Mark announced that he and Tiffany had filed for a marriage license.
"Oh... wow," was all Valerie could manage. "So soon?"
"Why wait?" Mark asked cheerfully. He was in high spirits. He pulled a small box from his coat pocket. "Look, here are the rings."
"They're beautiful," she nodded, examining the wedding bands. "Have you two really thought this through?"
"Mom, not again," Mark's face darkened.
"No, honey, I'm just asking. You haven't told me anything about how things are going between you."
"Well, yeah, that's on me," Mark said thoughtfully. "It's just that everything's been going so well, and I was afraid you'd start judging me again."
"I wasn't judging you! I just had doubts. But you're the master of your own fate. If you love Tiffany, then of course you should marry her," Valerie said, swallowing her pride. Mark beamed.
"Do you really mean that?" he asked with a smile. She nodded. "Thank God! I was worried you'd be against the wedding." He hugged her. "Thank you."
"I just want you to be happy, son," Valerie replied, hugging him back.
He wouldn't have listened to her even if she had been dead set against it. She would have just ruined her relationship with him, and that was all. The scale of the wedding stunned Valerie. Where did Mark, a modest floor manager at a factory, get that kind of money? She had contributed as much as she could from her savings, but it was a drop in the bucket for a celebration like this. There were over fifty guests from the bride's side alone, an expensive venue, an open bar, elaborate decor... the wedding must have cost at least ten thousand dollars. Where did he get it?
Valerie didn't want to ruin the day for him, so she kept her questions to herself, but she didn't forget. A few days after the wedding, the couple was preparing for their honeymoon. Valerie asked Mark to stop by before they left. He seemed to be in a state of unhealthy euphoria.
"So, how is married life treating you?" she asked.
"It's great," he smiled. "Actually, we've decided to move into a bigger place. We'll rent a two-bedroom for now, and then I'll apply for a mortgage."
"In your name?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Well, obviously," Mark shrugged. "Why saddle Tiffany with debt? We'll need to do renovations and buy furniture later; that's when we'll look into her options. They probably won't give me a second loan, but they might give one to her."
"That was Tiffany's idea, wasn't it?" Valerie clicked her tongue.
"Yeah. Why?"
"No reason. Very wise of her," she replied. Mark smiled.
"Yeah, she's smart!"
"By the way, Mark, how much did the wedding end up costing? It was so beautiful, the catering was incredible... a real fairytale."
"It wasn't that expensive. One of Tiffany's friends is a wedding planner, so she used all her discounts. It only came to about twelve thousand." Valerie barely suppressed a gasp.
"Yes, for a party like that, I suppose that is 'cheap,'" she managed to say. "But I'm still curious—where did you find that kind of money?"
"Oh, we took out a personal loan for the wedding," Mark said with a carefree grin. That was the last straw for Valerie.
"A loan? For a wedding?! Let me guess whose name is on the paperwork. Mark, where are your brains? Can't you see she's just using you?"
"Mom! No one is using me. Yes, I insisted on being the one to pay it back, specifically so Tiffany's credit stays clear for when we need a loan for the house! And yes, we're using part of it for our honeymoon too. Don't you understand that the days of just signing papers at City Hall with five relatives are over? Mom, everyone does it this way now, and I didn't want our wedding to be any less than anyone else's!"
Valerie sighed heavily, and Mark headed to the hallway to put on his coat.
"I can't believe you invited me over just to lecture me on my decisions! Mom, I'm a grown man. I don't need a lecture!"
"I wasn't lecturing you, Mark," Valerie said quietly. "You're right, you are an adult, and it's too late for me to scold you."
"Great. Then maybe you'll stop?" Mark threw his coat over his shoulders and turned the lock. "I'm going home. We still have to pack. I'll call when we get back."
"Bye, son," she said sadly.
"Bye, Mom," Mark replied sharply and slammed the door.
For the first time since her husband's funeral, Valerie cried out of sheer bitterness.
***
The relationship between Tiffany and Mark moved quickly. Tiffany was eager to try her hand at motherhood, but she could see her husband was deeply troubled by something. Sitting at a restaurant with an open terrace, Tiffany glanced from the ocean to Mark, slowly sipping chilled white wine. Mark moodily turned a condensation-covered beer glass in his hands.
"Are you not enjoying the vacation?" she asked.
"What? No, everything is perfect," Mark smiled immediately.
"I feel like your mind is somewhere else." Tiffany set her glass down and took his hand. "Tell me, what's going on?"
"Everything's fine, honestly," Mark tried to dodge, but she gave him a look that demanded the truth. He sighed heavily. "I had a fight with my mom before we left. I can't get that stupid argument out of my head."
"Your mother again?" Tiffany arched an eyebrow. "And what did she have to say this time?"
"Tiffany, it's our business, family business..."
"I'm your family too. Or am I not?"
"You are," he nodded.
"Well?" Tiffany prompted.
"We were talking about the wedding," Mark sighed. "First she said how great it was. Then she asked about the cost. And I lied. I told her it cost less than it did. She was still unhappy but kept quiet... and then for some reason, I blurted out the thing about the loan. That's when she lost it."
"Oh, honey," Tiffany sighed. "Your mother is old school. Things weren't done that way back then; the idea of borrowing money for a wedding was unthinkable. Nowadays, it's perfectly normal."
"That's exactly what I told her."
"And you were absolutely right," Tiffany supported him instantly. "Don't worry about her. She's just hurt that you married so soon after your father died. If it were any other girl, she'd react the same way."
"Yeah, I think so too," Mark admitted. He looked at Tiffany, smiled, and kissed her. "You're so smart."
"I know," she smirked. "Mark, isn't it time we thought about starting a family? Maybe if Valerie has a grandson or granddaughter, she'll realize she was wrong about me and that you weren't rushing into things."
"You're ready already?" Mark blinked in surprise.
"Of course," Tiffany smiled. "I've dreamed of a big family my whole life. I told you that."
"Yeah, but..." Mark hesitated. He was looking at the situation realistically: they didn't own a home. How could they talk about kids? "Maybe we should wait a bit?"
"I knew it. Your mother has turned you against me..." Tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly and stared out at the sea.
"Tiffany, no one turned me against you." Mark stood up and hugged his wife. "I just thought maybe we're rushing it because we haven't bought a house yet."
"And how long are we supposed to wait?" Tiffany sobbed. Mark was touched by her vulnerability.
It was rare to find a woman who sincerely wanted a child—at least, that's what Mark believed. In the 21st century, every woman seemed focused on careers, cars, and condos, not family. He felt so lucky to have Tiffany. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.
"Not long at all. I should be getting a promotion soon. We can pay off the wedding loan in a year. Then we'll get the mortgage, buy the house, and have kids. How does that sound?"
"Perfect," Tiffany smiled.
As planned, a month after returning from vacation, Mark received his long-awaited promotion. The pay was almost double, and while the physical labor decreased, the paperwork tripled. But Mark didn't complain; he was thrilled with how things were turning out.
Valerie was slowly starting to accept Tiffany, which made Mark happy. He hoped his life was finally on track. However, in reality, Valerie's opinion of Tiffany hadn't changed much. Perhaps the girl loved her husband a little—she hadn't divorced him or found a lover yet—but Valerie was certain Tiffany had an agenda, seeing some ultimate benefit in the relationship.
Valerie suspected it was all about the house. Tiffany didn't want to carry a mortgage herself, so she found Mark. Valerie couldn't explain this to her hopelessly infatuated son, but she hoped he'd be smart enough to at least put the house in his own name.
Mark paid off the wedding loan, not without some financial help from Valerie. Almost immediately after, he applied for a mortgage. The loan was approved, and the couple moved into their first home. A few months later, Tiffany was jumping for joy: two lines on the pregnancy test. Mark couldn't wait to share the news with his mother, especially since she seemed to be warming up to Tiffany.
While Tiffany was receiving congratulations from friends and celebrating her pregnancy with smoothies, Mark went to visit his mom. After hearing the news about his impending fatherhood, Valerie smiled and hugged him.
"Congratulations!" she kissed his cheek.
"Well, I'm not the only one who deserves congratulations," he smiled.
"Yes, Tiffany too, of course. It's just, she didn't come along today, so... anyway! Well, daddy-to-be, shall we toast to it?"
"Let's do it," Mark agreed. They drank wine and talked about the future.
For Valerie, the pieces of the puzzle were forming an unpleasant picture. She decided not to say anything to her son to avoid another fight, but she couldn't keep it inside anymore. She had to share her thoughts with someone. So, after Mark left, she called her close friend, Gayle.
"Hello?" Gayle's voice came through the line.
"Gayle, hey. How are things?"
"Oh, Valerie, can't complain. My daughter is getting married finally. She finally made up her mind."
"A wedding is good," Valerie nodded. "Is he a good guy?"
"He is," Gayle said confidently.
"Mm-hm. Well, things aren't exactly rosy over here."
"Did your 'favorite' daughter-in-law do something again?" Gayle asked, sensing the gossip.
"Gayle, you have to promise this stays between us," Valerie warned.
"Alright, alright. Tell me."
"So, they moved into a new house with a mortgage. Of course, my 'brilliant' son took the debt on himself, but he put Tiffany's name on the deed as an owner. Sometimes I wonder how I raised such a pushover. But that's not all. Tiffany is pregnant. And I think that after her maternity leave, she'll want a divorce, half the property, and child support," Valerie vented in one breath.
"Valerie..." Gayle said skeptically. "Don't you think you're imagining things? She seems like a decent enough girl. So what if she wants her husband to provide? We've all been there."
"I'd love to believe that, Gayle, but I see the way she looks at Mark. Like he's a walking ATM. She doesn't love him. I'd bet my life on it."
"Sure, she doesn't love him. That's why they're having a baby."
"Oh, Gayle," Valerie sighed. "I don't know why she went that far, honestly. Maybe she just likes kids."
"A person that calculating doesn't just 'like kids,' Valerie. You know that. Just try to change your attitude. She is the mother of your grandchild, after all."
"I don't know." Valerie pursed her lips. she thought her friend would support her, not take her daughter-in-law's side. "Fine, I'll try. Maybe you're right and I'm just overthinking it."
"That's the spirit. Now, let me tell you what I heard about Sarah..."
Valerie listened to her friend's animated story about how Sarah had somehow found the money for a full set of porcelain veneers and a new boyfriend in her sixties who was paying for her dental work. Valerie felt a bit odd. She wasn't even a grandmother yet, but she already felt like an old woman gossiping about dentures.
***
Soon, Tiffany gave birth to a son. Valerie was genuinely happy about her grandson's arrival. Over those nine months, she had tried to follow Gayle's advice and reconsider her feelings toward Tiffany. Moreover, the girl turned out to be a very devoted mother, spending all her time with the baby. Valerie even felt a twinge of guilt for how she had initially perceived her. She tried to help with the baby whenever possible, but she was still working and didn't have much free time.
Years passed. Their grandson, Andrew, turned three, and Tiffany went back to work. Meanwhile, Valerie developed arthritis and had to scale back her own work hours. She was still helping Mark with his mortgage payments and spoiling Andrew with toys, babysitting whenever the young parents asked.
A year later, Valerie's joints were aching every morning, and she had to be hospitalized for scheduled treatment. That's when she decided she'd had enough. She had helped her son as much as she could. Tiffany was working now and could contribute to the mortgage. It was time for Valerie to retire. She told Mark and Tiffany this when they came to visit her right after she was discharged.
"You're right, Mom. It's about time you started living for yourself," Mark supported her.
"I don't know... Will you have enough to live on?" Tiffany asked doubtfully.
"Other people manage," Valerie shrugged.
"I wouldn't call that 'living,'" Tiffany continued. "What about your medicine?"
"Tiffany, I'll pay for Mom's medicine. What kind of question is that?" Mark said, surprised.
"Mark, we have a mortgage to think about," Tiffany said seriously.
"So? We'll go on vacation once a year instead of twice, like most people."
"Oh, sure! Let's just deprive our son of the sun!" Tiffany threw up her hands.
"Now, now, let's not argue in front of a sick woman," Valerie tried to play peacemaker.
All her suspicions about Tiffany came rushing back.
"Exactly—a sick woman," Mark frowned. "Remind me, Tiffany, what exactly is our son suffering from that requires him to spend three months at the beach with you?"
"Nothing yet," Tiffany emphasized. "But have you heard of Vitamin D deficiency and all that?"
"Tiffany, I'm paying for my mother's medicine, period. And if I have to, I'll buy her groceries too. She's my mother, and I owe her everything."
"And you owe your family nothing! Fine, you can be the one to explain to Andrew why we aren't going to the Caribbean this winter!" Tiffany was bordering on hysterics.
"Don't you think Andrew will be in preschool this winter and doesn't need to be pulled out for the beach?" Mark stood his ground.
"Now you're going to argue with me about how to raise our child?"
"Tiffany, let's just admit that you're the one who wants to be on a warm beach in the middle of winter. You're using Andrew as an excuse. You flew off to Tulum when he was two months old! Two months, Tiffany! But you 'needed' a break by the ocean."
"Is it a crime that I want to spend time with my son?"
"You want to spend time on vacation. I'm telling you again: if we only go once a year, our son's health will be just fine," Mark said tiredly.
"I know better than you!" Tiffany shouted. "My God, you're so selfish! You don't think about your family at all!"
"I'm the selfish one?!" Mark's patience finally snapped. "You want me to withhold a dime from my mother just so I can take you on an extra trip? Do you think I'm still that same fool? I see perfectly well that you only wanted a child for yourself. I doubt you ever loved me. But congratulations—you can easily manipulate me now because I love my son. And the two of us will have a perfectly fine time on vacation this winter."
"My son isn't going anywhere without me," Tiffany turned pale.
"He's my son too."
"Just try it. I'll file for divorce immediately and tell everyone you kidnapped him!"
"Fine." Mark grit his teeth.
He had long suspected that Tiffany wasn't as loving as she'd seemed in the beginning. She had achieved her goal: she'd tied him down and gotten a house at his expense. "I feel sorry for Andrew, having such a heartless mother."
"Alright," Valerie said, slamming her hands on the table. "I've thought you weren't right for my son from the start, Tiffany—I'm sorry, but it's true. But I sincerely love you for my grandson. And I love Andrew very much. Please, now that you have a family, don't destroy it. Whether you love my son or not, I hope you love yours. Please, don't take his father away."
"Valerie, you raised a horrible man. And I won't let him influence my son! Especially not after this. It turns out you were counting every penny spent on your wife and child, Mark. I didn't expect that. I'm filing for divorce. You can live with your mother until the day you die," Tiffany spat venomously.
"Think about what you're doing," Valerie shook her head. "The anger will fade, but you won't get back a husband and a good father."
"A good father? He'd deny his child a month of summer!" Tiffany cried.
She realized her manipulation had been exposed, largely due to her own temper. Since the day she met Mark, Tiffany had decided he was simple enough to provide for her for the rest of her life. She wouldn't stop working—just as insurance—but she wouldn't try too hard either. Better to focus on the family and kids; a child would be the perfect leverage. And she hadn't been wrong. Life was great until her mother-in-law decided to retire.
She knew this day would come, but not so soon. And she didn't think Mark would start catching on. Playing the part of the loving wife was getting harder; she had let herself become rude and sharp lately, and that had invited suspicion. A flood of memories rushed through her mind as she tried to figure out how to use Andrew to fix this.
"A judge can decide which of us is the bad parent," Mark replied coldly.
***
The divorce was relatively painless. The judge ruled that Mark could see his son whenever it was convenient, despite Tiffany's demand to limit it to weekends. Andrew was to live with his mother, as the court felt a child should be with their primary caregiver.
Mark left the house to his ex-wife and son. The mortgage was nearly paid off, and Mark didn't demand any money or equity from her—he felt it wasn't the right thing to do as a man. He continued to provide his son with everything he needed, but he never wanted to see his ex-wife again.
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