Rita Johnson gazed at her son, her heart swelling with pride. How handsome he had grown. He stood before the mirror in a sharp suit, soon to marry a wonderful girl. Rita had raised him alone. His father walked out when the boy was five, chasing a wealthy woman, claiming he deserved better. Rita had no time to grieve—she had her son. She poured her entire being into him.
As he grew, she realized she’d spoiled him too much. He started showing his father’s traits, craving a lavish life. But he didn’t want to earn it—he dreamed of marrying rich. Rita constantly told him a good life comes from hard work. Study well, get a job. Not by chasing a wealthy bride. So when he brought Natalie home to meet her, Rita was overjoyed.
The girl was kind, intelligent, from an ordinary middle-class family. With Natalie, Ian settled down. He started studying harder. They were in the same college group, and after graduation, they decided to tie the knot. Sadly, Natalie’s mother fell gravely ill and didn’t live to see her daughter’s wedding. Rita grew to love Natalie like her own, and the girl reciprocated warmly.
Today was their wedding day. It would be simple—vows at the registry office, then a small gathering at a café with a few friends. Rita stayed briefly at the café. She was overwhelmed, and the young crowd would have more fun without her. The couple decided to live at Ian’s place for now. Natalie had found a job, but they couldn’t afford rent yet. Her small apartment, inherited from her parents, was in a nearby town, so they chose to rent it out.
All seemed well. But Rita was troubled that Ian wasn’t actively job-hunting. He’d leave the house, but often returned tipsy, clearly not from interviews.
— Son, you can’t go on like this. Natalie found a job, and you have the same degree.
— Mom, you don’t get it. Natalie was a better student, and her internship led to a job. I’m looking on my own. I’m not working for pennies.
— But you have to start somewhere. No one’s hiring you as a boss right away. As a man, you should help your family. Your wife can’t carry everything. What about when kids come?
— We’re not planning kids yet. We need to get on our feet.
— And for that, you need to work, — his mother cut in.
Knowing she wouldn’t let up, Ian used his childhood trick. He hugged her and promised everything would be fine, telling her not to worry.
A week later, Ian came home late, when everyone was already there. He placed a cake on the table and announced he’d landed a job. Everyone was thrilled. He shared how his boss praised his potential for growth.
Rita’s joy faded after a couple of months. Ian had changed. She often caught the scent of women’s perfume on him.
— Ian, are you cheating on Natalie? — she finally blurted out.
— Mom, that’s ridiculous. I work late—there’s no time for that.
— The perfume?
— I hang my jacket in a shared wardrobe. Three women work in my department. Some douse themselves in it.
The explanation eased her mind. But two months later, Ian got a promotion and a company car. Doubts crept back. He stayed late at work, and after the promotion, business trips started. Natalie noticed nothing, deeply in love and proud of his success. That evening, she had big news to share. After dinner, she announced she was pregnant.
Rita was ecstatic, but Ian hesitated.
— Isn’t it too soon?
— Honey, you’re working now. We can raise a child.
— We don’t have our own place.
— Grandma’s right here. I can go back to work early. Mom, you’ll help, right?
Natalie had long called Rita “Mom.”
— Of course I’ll help. I’ve got plenty of energy.
Ian was sullen all week. The news didn’t thrill him. He smiled at his wife, but his true feelings showed when he turned away. Rita saw it all, her heart aching. Somewhere in his upbringing, she’d failed, and she blamed herself.
That weekend, Ian suggested Natalie go shopping to unwind and buy Christmas gifts. Rita had a bad feeling.
— Why not go later? It’s icy out, and there’s two weeks left.
— Mom, relax. I’ve got a good car, and I’ll be careful.
Five hours passed with no sign of them. Ian’s phone was off, and Natalie didn’t answer. Rita was frantic. Then Natalie’s phone rang.
— Natalie, where are you? Is everything okay?
— Hello. This is a doctor from City Hospital. Are you related to the phone’s owner?
— I’m her mother. Well, mother-in-law. What’s wrong with her and my son?
— Your son’s fine and will be home soon. He left against our advice to stay.
— The girl’s badly injured.
— I’m on my way, — Rita said, grabbing her coat.
As she called a taxi, Ian walked in, face scratched, limping slightly.
— What are you doing here? Your wife’s in the hospital! — Rita snapped.
— Mom, not now, — he said harshly, heading to his room.
Rita had no time to argue. At the hospital, the doctor explained they’d crashed on ice, hitting a tree outside town. Outside town? They were supposed to be at the mall.
— Your son said his wife wanted to visit a nearby forest for fresh air. The passenger side took the impact. She has severe injuries. We operated, but I can’t give a prognosis yet.
— Can I see her?
— Come back tomorrow morning.
Returning home, Rita found Ian gone. He didn’t answer calls; his phone was off. He didn’t come back that night. She couldn’t sleep, tossing all night. By 8 a.m., she was at the hospital.
The doctor said Natalie would live but needed care and another surgery to walk again. She’d lost the baby. Rita was allowed to see her.
— Sweetheart, everything will be okay, — Rita whispered, stroking her hand. — We’ll get you back on your feet.
— How’s Ian? — Natalie asked faintly.
— He’s fine. He’ll visit soon. Rest now.
— I didn’t want to go there. He said the pines would be good for me. Then… — She covered her face and sobbed.
— Shh, no tears. The doctor said you can’t get upset. I’ll be back later.
At home, Ian sat in the kitchen, sipping tea like nothing happened.
— Your wife’s in the hospital, and you’re here!
— Mom, I was hurt too.
— Where were you all night? How did this happen?
— I needed to rest. How’s Natalie? — he asked flatly.
— She’s alive, but your child’s gone. She’ll need care and surgery to walk. The prognosis is good.
— Tell her I’m sorry.
— Tell her? You’re not going to see your wife?
— I’m filing for divorce tomorrow. I’ve been in love with someone else—my boss. She values me. Here’s compensation for Natalie. — He pointed to an envelope.
— You’re just like your father. How could you? Don’t you remember how hard it was when he left us for a rich woman?
— I remember. That’s why I left money.
He stood, went to his room, and soon emerged with a suitcase. He tossed the apartment keys on the shelf and slammed the door.
Rita sank her head into her hands and wept. How could he do this to Natalie, to her? After sobbing for half an hour, she pulled herself together. Tears wouldn’t help.
— I’m needed by my girl.
A month later, Natalie came home, still unable to walk. With Ian’s money, Rita bought a special bed and wheelchair. Natalie’s colleagues helped move her. Natalie accepted her husband’s betrayal, too drained to be angry. She was endlessly grateful Rita hadn’t abandoned her.
— Sweetheart, how could I leave you? You’re my real daughter. Everything will work out. It’s New Year’s Eve—we’ll share one wish. Miracles happen if you believe and help them along.
At 11:30 p.m., the doorbell rang. It was Oliver, a colleague who’d helped move Natalie that day.
— I’ve got no one to celebrate with. Can I join you? I understand if not.
He was visibly shy.
— Come in, helper. We love guests.
Oliver brought fruit and sweets. After midnight, he helped take Natalie outside to see the fireworks. Rita noticed how he looked at her daughter-in-law but stayed quiet. She wasn’t opposed—quite the opposite—but knew Natalie wasn’t ready. Natalie smiled for the first time in a month. She loved fireworks, feeling like a child again.
Oliver visited often, helping take Natalie out for fresh air. Rita learned to give massages. One day, they had a serious talk.
— Natalie, the doctor called. You can have the second surgery soon, with a good chance to walk again. But we don’t have enough money unless we sell your parents’ apartment. I know it’s your only home, and it’s scary. So here. — She handed over a paper.
It was a deed transferring Rita’s apartment to Natalie.
— What about your son? He’ll have nothing.
— I have no son anymore, but I have a daughter, — Rita said, hugging her.
The surgery happened a month later and went well. Recovery was slow, but they’d get there. Oliver kept visiting.
— Natalie, do you like Oliver? — Rita asked one day.
Natalie blushed.
— Come on, I see everything. Since New Year’s. You know, I like him.
— Me too, — she admitted.
That day, Oliver seemed to sense the talk. He came over, nervous, wanting to speak with Rita.
— You want to say you love Natalie? — she asked bluntly.
— How’d you know?
— I’m not twenty, Oliver. I see it. I’m not against it. But if you hurt my girl—
— Never. I’ve liked her since college, but she was married, so I kept my distance. When I heard colleagues were helping her, I saw my chance. I want to propose.
— Then do it. What are you waiting for?
He thanked her and rushed to the hospital. Natalie said yes but insisted the wedding wait until she could stand firmly.
Six months later, Rita watched Natalie in a stunning pale blue dress beside a dashing Oliver. They celebrated at home. Oliver’s parents couldn’t come—they lived abroad. Neither Rita nor Natalie cared much about his family’s wealth or jobs, only that they were far away. The rest didn’t matter.
— Mom, we have a gift for you.
— It’s your wedding, not mine.
They laughed and handed her an envelope. It held a two-week voucher to a seaside resort.
— You deserve a break. Enjoy the sun.
Rita had never rested so well. She returned home, telling the kids not to meet her—Michael Paulson, a man she’d met at the resort, would drive her. At her door, her key didn’t work. Strange, she thought. A woman she didn’t know opened it.
— Who’re you looking for? — the woman asked curtly.
— Sorry, I live here.
— No, I bought this place a week ago.
Rita turned to Michael, her eyes betraying fear. Could her kids have done this? Just then, Natalie and Oliver ran up the stairs.
— Mom, sorry! Traffic. We wanted to surprise you, not give you a heart attack.
— Come outside.
— Natalie, do I have no home anymore? — Rita asked quietly, eyes down. — Are you putting me in a home?
— I won’t allow it, — Michael interjected.
— No one’s going anywhere, — Oliver said firmly. — We bought you a new apartment, titled to you. You’ll live next to us. We’ll need Grandma’s help soon.
Inside the new place, Rita couldn’t believe her eyes—a spacious two-bedroom with fine furniture and appliances, near a lovely park.
— We’ll stroll here, Rita, — Michael said. He’d come along to ensure she was okay. — By the way, I live in that building. — He pointed to a high-rise by the park.
Natalie and Oliver smiled at the older pair. Rita, more than anyone, deserved happiness.
— Now let’s go to our place. Dinner’s ready, and my parents want to meet you. Michael, you’re invited too, — Oliver said, winking.
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