After the betrayal of his wife and friends, a man who was becoming increasingly wealthy returned to his hometown. Standing by his mother’s grave, he froze…
Michael stopped the car. He had intended to visit many times but never found the time. While his mother was alive, he wasn’t there for her, and after her death—even less so.
These memories filled him with self-disgust. In truth, it took so little—just a nudge—to realize that the world he had built around himself was merely an illusion. No word, no gesture had any real meaning. He even found himself grateful to his ex-wife, Emily, for opening his eyes.
In an instant, everything collapsed. The exemplary image of a happy family, his friendships—all proved to be false. It turned out that his wife and best friend had betrayed him, and the others, though aware, remained silent. It was a total disaster. Everyone close to him had betrayed him. After the divorce, Michael returned to his hometown. Eight years had passed since his mother’s funeral, and he had never found the time to visit her grave. Only now did he understand that his mother had been the only person who would never have betrayed him.
Michael had married late. He was 33, and his chosen one, 25. Oh, how proud he was to see Emily by his side. She seemed refined, sophisticated. Later, when she screamed in his face that she had hated him throughout their short life together and that intimacy with him was torture, Michael realized how blind he had been. Her face, contorted with rage, resembled a terrifying mask. And yet, he had almost been deceived. Emily cried so convincingly, begging for forgiveness, saying he was always busy and she was left alone.
But when Michael firmly stated that he wanted a divorce, Emily revealed her true face. Michael got out of the car and took a huge bouquet of flowers. He slowly walked down the cemetery path. After so many years, everything must have been overgrown. He hadn’t even come when the headstone was installed. Everything had been arranged online, from a distance. That’s how life can pass by.
To his surprise, the fence and monument were well-maintained, without a single weed. Someone was taking care of the grave. Who? Perhaps one of his mother’s friends. They were probably still alive. If the son hadn’t found time to come… He opened the gate. “Hello, Mom,” he whispered. His throat tightened, and his eyes filled with tears. Streams of tears ran down his cheeks.
He—a successful businessman, a tough man who never cried or felt sad—was now crying like a child. And he didn’t want to stop. With each tear, it was as if his soul was being cleansed, all traces of Emily and the failures in his life disappearing. It was as if his mother gently stroked his head and whispered, “There, there, everything will be fine, you’ll see.” He stayed like that for a long time, speaking in his mind with his mother. He remembered how, as a child, he would fall and scrape his knees, crying. His mother would treat the wounds with antiseptic, blow on them, and soothe him: “It’s nothing serious, all my boys have scraped knees, it’ll pass, there won’t be any mark.” And indeed, it would pass. And the pain became easier to bear.
“You get used to everything, to everything, except betrayal,” she used to say. Only now did he understand the profound meaning of those words. Back then, they seemed like ordinary words, but now he realized how wise his mother had been. She had raised him without a father but hadn’t coddled him; instead, she had taught him to be a real man.
He didn’t know how much time had passed and didn’t want to look at his watch. He felt at peace. He decided to stay in town for a few days. He needed to decide what to do with his mother’s house. Sure, he could afford to pay a neighbor to take care of the house, but how long would it remain empty? He smiled, remembering how he had met the neighbor’s daughter. When he arranged for someone to look after the house, he met Katie. At that time, he was in a very bad state, very bitter. And Katie had been so understanding. They met in the evening, started talking, and things happened naturally. In the morning, he left, leaving a note with instructions on where to leave the key.
Perhaps in Katie’s eyes, he hadn’t looked too good. But he hadn’t promised anything. Everything had been mutual. Katie had come to her mother after divorcing an abusive husband. She had told him about it. It had been hard for her, and for him as well. And it happened. Simply.
“Sir, can you help me?” a child’s voice was heard. Turning abruptly, Michael saw a girl about seven or eight years old, holding an empty bucket.
“I need water to water the flowers. My mom and I just planted them, but today she’s sick. It’s so hot outside, and they’ll wilt. The water is nearby, but the bucket is too heavy for me. And I don’t want Mom to find out I came here alone. If I carried it with a cup, it would take too long, and Mom would realize.”
Michael smiled: “Sure, show me where to go.”
The little girl led the way, talking nonstop. In five minutes, Michael knew everything. He knew that she had told her mom not to drink cold water in the heat and that, unfortunately, her mom had gotten sick. Lisa had come to her grandmother’s grave, who had died a year ago. Grandma would have scolded her mom, and then she wouldn’t have gotten sick. Lisa had been studying for a year and dreamed of graduating with honors.
Michael felt his soul lighten. How sincere children are! Now he understood that he would have been happy if he had had an ordinary, loving wife and a child. Someone to wait for him at home after work. His Emily was like an expensive doll and didn’t even want to hear about children. She said only a fool would give up beauty for a screaming little human. They had been married for five years. And now Michael realized—he didn’t have even a single warm memory from their marriage.
He placed the bucket inside the fence, and Lisa began carefully watering the flowers. Michael looked at the monument and froze. In the photo was the neighbor with whom he had arranged to take care of the house. Katie’s mother. He turned his gaze to the little girl:
“Was Galina Peterson your grandmother?”
“Yes. Did you know her?” the girl asked.
“Actually, why am I asking? I saw you at Grandma Gale’s grave. Mom and I always clean there and bring flowers.”
“You and your mom?” Michael asked, confused.
“Yes, with Mom. I told you, she doesn’t let me go to the cemetery alone.”
The girl took the bucket, looked around, and said:
“Okay, I have to run, or Mom will worry and ask me a lot of questions, and I don’t know how to lie.”
“Wait, I’ll drive you,” said Michael.
Lisa shook her head:
“Mom told me not to get into cars with strangers. And I don’t want to upset her since she’s sick.”
Lisa quickly said goodbye and ran off. Michael returned to his mother’s grave. He sat down and remained deep in thought. “It’s strange… Katie didn’t seem to live here; she had just come to visit her mother. But now it seems she lives here and has a daughter…”
Back then, he didn’t know Katie had a child. Although, who knows how old Lisa is? Maybe Katie got married and had her. Thinking this way, Michael stood up. He realized that, most likely, Katie herself was now taking care of the house, and he was paying her without knowing.
After all, what did it matter to whom he was paying?
Michael stopped in front of the house. His heart tightened. The house looked exactly the same as before. It seemed that, at any moment, his mother would come out onto the porch, wipe her tears with the corner of her apron, and hug him.
Michael sat in the car for a long time. But his mother didn’t come out. Finally, he got out and entered the yard. He was amazed: the flowers were planted, the garden well-kept, everything clean and beautiful. Well done, Katie! He needed to reward her.
Inside, it was clean and fresh, as if someone had lived there until recently and had just stepped out for a moment. Michael sat at the table but couldn’t stay long. He needed to go to the neighbor to clarify things, then rest.
At the door, Lisa opened it.
“Oh, it’s you?” she smiled mischievously, putting her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Mom we saw each other at the cemetery!”
Michael mimed locking his mouth with a key, and Lisa laughed cheerfully.
“Come in!” came a voice from the room. “I’m feeling better, but please don’t come too close, so you don’t get sick!”
Katie looked at him, startled:
“You?”
Michael smiled:
“Hi.”
Looking around, he asked:
“Where’s your husband?”
The question was unnecessary; he already felt that the husband wasn’t there and perhaps never had been.
“Michael… I’m sorry I didn’t inform you about your mother’s death. With work in the city, it’s hard, so I took care of the house.”
“I’m sorry for you, Katie. And thank you so much for taking care. I went in and felt like Mom had just stepped out for a moment. Everything is so clean, so warm. How long do you plan to stay?”
“Not long. Just a few days.”
“And what do you want to do with the house? Sell it?”
Michael shrugged:
“I haven’t thought about it yet. Katie, look…”
He took out an envelope.
“This is for you. As a bonus for taking care of the house.”
He placed a considerable sum of money on the table.
“Michael, what are you doing? It’s not necessary!”
“Thank you, Mr. Michael!” Lisa smiled. “Mom has been dreaming of a new dress for a long time, and I want a bicycle.”
Michael laughed:
“Good job, Lisa!”
She was just like him when he was a child: money didn’t elude her.
In the evening, Michael began to feel unwell. It seemed he had gotten sick. He had a high fever. He knew where his mother always kept the thermometer, found it, measured his temperature, and realized he needed to take action.
Not knowing what medicine to take, he sent a text to Katie: “What should I take for a high fever?” Ten minutes later, the neighbors were already at his place.
“Oh my God, why did you go into the house? Did you catch my illness?”
“Eh, you’re sick too. Don’t worry.”
“I’m feeling better now.”
Katie handed him some pills, and Lisa made him tea.
“She’s going to burn herself!”
“Who? Lisa?”
“No, me! She’s the expert at everything!” Michael laughed. It was like something clicked in his mind, like in childhood. His thoughts suddenly became clear.
“Katie.”
She looked at him with concern.
“What is it?”
“When was Lisa born?”
Katie sat down wearily on a chair.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Katie?”
The woman turned to her daughter.
“Lisa, sweetheart, could you run to the store and get some lemons and something to drink?”
“Sure, Mom.”
Once Lisa was out the door, Katie began:
“Michael, let’s set this straight from the beginning: Lisa has nothing to do with you. We don’t want anything from you. We have everything we need. Just forget about it.”
“What? So it’s true?” Michael asked. “Katie, do you understand what you’re saying? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Michael jumped to his feet.
“I made the decision to keep the child on my own. You had nothing to do with it. I never imagined you’d come back. Let alone care.”
Michael sat down again.
“I hurt you back then…”
Katie shrugged.
“I got over it. As you can see.”
Michael fell silent. He was in shock. All these years, he had lived a false life, while the real one was here, in front of him, in the form of Lisa and Katie. Now, looking at her, he realized: what more could he possibly want?
Nothing. He didn’t need anything else.
“Michael?” Katie asked, worried. “What are you going to do? Please don’t say anything to Lisa. If you leave and she starts waiting for you, she’ll be heartbroken.”
“No, Katie, that’s not going to happen. How could you think that of me? I don’t even know exactly what I’m going to do yet…”
That night, Michael dreamed of his mother. She was smiling at him, happy, telling him she had always dreamed of having a granddaughter just like Lisa.
Michael left three days later. Katie sat at the table listening to him.
“So here’s the deal: I’ll take care of a few things and come back. It might take a week, maybe a little more. But I’m coming back—and not just for a visit. I want to bring you both back into my life. I promise I won’t say anything to Lisa unless… unless it doesn’t work out between us. But I’ll help, no matter what. Katie, tell me—do I have a chance?”
“A chance to be happy, to be a family.”
Katie shrugged and wiped away a tear.
“I don’t know, Michael.”
He didn’t return for three weeks. When he did, he didn’t stop at his own house—he drove straight to Katie’s. He pulled large gift bags from the trunk—presents for Lisa and Katie. Then he knocked and stepped inside.
“Good afternoon.”
Katie was sewing something. She looked up and gave a faint smile.
“You came back?”
“I told you I would. Where’s—?”
From the other room, Lisa appeared.
“Hello, Mr. Michael.”
Katie stood up.
“I’ve thought about everything you said and… Lisa, I want to introduce you to your father.”
Michael dropped the bags in shock.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
A week later, they left together. They put both houses up for sale. They decided to start over, build a new life from scratch.
Lisa was still a little shy. Sometimes she called him “Dad,” other times “Mr. Michael.” But he would laugh, hug them both, and deep down, he knew: everything was finally as it should have been from the beginning.