Her jaw tightened. She blinked, but said nothing.
We sat at the kitchen table. Anna had made tea and banana bread. My mother barely touched her cup.
“This could’ve been different. You could have been someone, something. You could have been great, Jonathan.”
“I am someone, Mom. I just stopped performing for you — for the one person who never clapped.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked down at the drawing. Aaron smiled at me. Anna squeezed my knee.
“My father said the same thing when I brought your father home,” she said finally.
“He told me I was throwing everything away. And when he left me… I built a life no one could question. I thought if everything was flawless, no one would leave. I thought control meant safety.”
“You lost us anyway,” I said.
“Because you didn’t give us any choice.”
She didn’t deny it. For the first time, she looked at me without trying to fix something.
Anna spoke softly. “Jonathan chose us. But we’re not a punishment. And you don’t have to be the villain, Margot. Not unless you keep acting like one.”
My mother didn’t answer. She left half an hour later. No hug, no apology.
That night, my phone rang. Her voice was uneven. “I didn’t know it would feel like that. Your home… the way your son smiled at you… The way your wife looked at you — like she trusts you with everything.”
Her voice caught. “I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me that way.”
