Chapter 4: The Secret Behind Margaret’s Tears
I held the phone tighter against my ear.
For the first time since my wedding collapsed, I didn’t know who to believe.
David’s voice sounded calm.
Too calm.
“Elena,” he said softly, “I know you’re hurt.””
I looked at Margaret.
She was watching me carefully, but she wasn’t trying to take the phone away.
She wasn’t afraid.
That confused me.
“Then explain,” I said.
There was a pause.
“I didn’t want our wedding to end like that.””
My jaw tightened.
“You walked away.””
“I did what I had to do.””
“You took off my ring in front of everyone.””
“Because I was angry.””
“No,” I whispered.
“Because you wanted everyone to see me as the problem.””
The silence on the other end was heavy.
Then David sighed.
“You don’t know the whole story.””
I almost laughed.
“Funny. Everyone keeps saying that.””
I looked at the email on the table.
The recording.
The messages.
“How about you tell me the truth?””
Another pause.
Then his voice changed.
“You think Margaret sent you those things because she cares about you?””
I didn’t answer.
“She did it because she hates losing control.””
Margaret’s expression changed slightly.
Not anger.
Pain.
David continued.
“My mother has always interfered in my relationships.””
I looked at Margaret.
“She’s always tried to decide who I should be with, what choices I should make, even what kind of person I should become.””
I swallowed.
“That doesn’t explain the photo.””
“It explains everything.””
His voice became more urgent.
“Vanessa was a mistake. A conversation that went too far. But Margaret wanted to destroy us.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because she never liked you.””
“That’s not true.””
The words came out before I could stop them.
David went quiet.
“You really believe that?””
I remembered Margaret bringing me soup when I was sick.
I remembered her sewing a missing button on my coat before a family dinner.
I remembered her secretly paying for the flowers because she knew I loved roses but couldn’t afford them.
“She cared about me,” I said.
David laughed bitterly.
“That’s what she wants you to think.””
I ended the call.
Not because I believed Margaret.
Because I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Margaret stood.
“I should go.””
I looked at her.
“You’re not going to defend yourself?””
She smiled sadly.
“What would I say?””
“The truth.””
She looked toward the door.
“The truth is complicated.””
I stood up.
“Try me.””
Margaret hesitated.
Then she sat back down.
“When David was twenty-five, he was engaged.””
I frowned.
“I didn’t know that.””
“Almost nobody does.””
She folded her hands.
“Her name was Claire.””
“What happened?””
Margaret looked down.
“She left him.””
I waited.
“And David blamed me.””
“Why?””
“Because I told him she was using him.””
I leaned against the table.
“Was she?””
Margaret looked away.
“I thought she was.””
“That’s not an answer.””
“No.””
Her voice became quiet.
“It isn’t.””
The honesty surprised me.
She continued.
“I made mistakes with David. After his father left, I became overprotective. I was scared of losing him too.””
I understood that feeling.
But I also knew fear could become something ugly.
“Did you ruin his relationship?””
Margaret didn’t answer immediately.
Finally, she whispered:
“I told Claire something I shouldn’t have.””
“What?””
“That David wasn’t ready for marriage.””
My eyes widened.
“And?””
“She left.””
The room felt colder.
I stared at her.
“So David was right?””
Margaret nodded.
“I hurt him.””
That admission shocked me more than any excuse could have.
She wasn’t pretending to be perfect.
She wasn’t painting herself as a victim.
She was admitting she had failed.
“But Elena,” she said, “that doesn’t change what happened with Vanessa.””
I looked away.
“I don’t know what happened.””
“You know enough.””
“Do I?””
Margaret reached into her bag.
She pulled out another envelope.
“I found this yesterday.””
My heart sank.
“What is it?””
She pushed it toward me.
“I didn’t open it.””
I looked at the envelope.
There was no sender.
No name.
Only my name written across the front.
Elena.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The first line made my stomach drop.
“If you are reading this, David has already blamed me for everything.””
I looked at Margaret.
Her face had gone pale.
“You know who wrote this?””
She nodded slowly.
“Yes.””
“Who?””
She looked at the letter.
May you like
Then at me.
“Claire.””
