Ludmila sat at the kitchen table, absently tapping her spoon against the edge of a cooling cup of tea.
Through the window, she watched Marina carry the last of her boxes to the car. Finally, Ludmila thought with grim satisfaction, this outsider is gone from my son’s life.
She snorted quietly. Everything had gone according to her plan. The marriage had fallen apart, just as she intended — all thanks to her careful interference.
“She fooled you completely,” she had told her son Alexey over and over. “Lazy, selfish — couldn’t even keep the house in order. You deserve better.”
But Alexey sat silent, his fists clenched in frustration. He knew the real reason his marriage had failed — his mother’s constant meddling, her sharp remarks, her endless suspicion. Marina wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t deserve what had happened.
Ludmila had seen her as a threat from the beginning. First came the little comments: “Are you sure she’s faithful to you?” Then the lies: “I saw her with another man at a café.” And finally, the cruelest blow — a planted letter, supposedly from Marina’s secret lover.
That was the breaking point. Alexey lost his temper, accusing Marina of betrayal. Tearfully, Marina had only said, “If you trust her over me, then we have nothing left to say.” The divorce followed soon after.
Ludmila was delighted. She imagined Alexey returning to her care, as he had before marriage — eating her meals, listening to her advice, dependent on her again.
But things didn’t go as planned.
Alexey wasn’t happy. He grew distant, withdrawn. One evening, he quietly asked her, “Are you happy now, Mom? Marina’s gone. I’m alone. And I barely see my daughter. Is this really what you wanted?”
Ludmila couldn’t answer.
Soon, Alexey stopped coming to see her altogether. He rarely answered her calls. Meanwhile, Marina, far from falling apart, was thriving. She found a new job, bought a small apartment, and seemed freer, stronger.
That’s when Ludmila realized — she was losing everything. Her son was slipping away. Her granddaughter Liza avoided her. And Marina, whom she had once called weak, was building a new life.
Months passed. The silence in Ludmila’s home grew unbearable.
Desperate, Alexey tried reaching out to Marina — calls, messages, apologies. But Marina’s reply was always the same: “It’s over. Move on.”
When he visited her one day, Liza opened the door — and closed it in his face without a word.
That night, Alexey ignored his mother’s call for the first time. Ludmila called again and again, but there was only the empty ring of rejection.
She decided to visit him. Alexey answered the door, unshaven, exhausted, his eyes empty.
“Look at yourself!” she burst out. “All because of that Marina!”
But Alexey’s voice was steady, stronger than she’d ever heard: “No, Mom. Not because of Marina — because of you. You destroyed everything. I lost my wife. I lost my daughter. And now I’m losing myself. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
It was the first time in her life that Ludmila felt powerless.
Days passed. No calls. No visits. The house was silent.
One afternoon, wandering through the neighborhood, she passed the old playground where she used to take Liza. She saw a little girl on the swings — her granddaughter’s familiar silhouette — and her heart clenched.
Memories came flooding back — sticky hands, carefree laughter, summer afternoons.
Ludmila had thought she was saving her son, protecting her family.
But in the end, she had lost them both.
Now, all that remained was silence.
And it was far too late to fix it.
I ruined my son’s wedding and don’t regret it! Am I wrong for doing it?
The transformation in my son’s behavior has been nothing short of startling. From a devoted husband and father, he morphed into someone unfaithful and neglectful.
This drastic change in demeanor coincided with the birth of my grandson, Tommy, who was born with Down syndrome.
To my surprise, my son, Mike, not only strained his relationship with Tommy’s mother, Jane, but he also chose to leave them altogether. Now, he’s preparing to tie the knot again.
As mothers, our responsibility is to motivate and support our children, a principle I stand by wholeheartedly. Thus, I believe my actions were justified, and I’ll provide you with the backstory to explain why.
Mike made the decision to marry at a young age when Jane, his then-girlfriend, revealed she was expecting a child. Jane, a captivating woman, won my heart with her girl-next-door charm, and I was pleased she became part of our family.
However, Tommy’s birth with Down syndrome posed challenges that strained Mike and Jane’s relationship. Mike’s infidelity led to their divorce, leaving Jane to care for Tommy alone.
Despite my willingness to support them, Mike showed no interest in his child or providing assistance. This lack of compassion shocked me, and my pleas for him to return or help Jane fell on deaf ears.
A surprising revelation came when my nephew Liam informed me that Mike was getting married again. I was taken aback, realizing I knew little about Mike’s current life.
It seemed he had convinced someone else to marry him, and I wasn’t even invited to the wedding. Concerned for Jane and Tommy, I requested the address from Liam and attended the ceremony.
As Mike spoke his vows, I walked in with Tommy on my hip, creating a memorable shock on Mike’s face. I took the opportunity to address him, introducing Tommy as his first “I did” and the family he abandoned.
I shared the painful details of Mike’s early marriage, Tommy’s birth, his infidelity, and his lack of financial support during the divorce. I wanted to caution his new fiancée about the situation she was entering.
Though disrupting the wedding may seem extreme, my intention was to impart a valuable lesson to Mike and prompt him to reconsider his actions. There is still hope for him to make things right for Tommy, either by rejoining our family or assuming financial responsibility.
Now, I seek your opinion: Was interfering with my son’s wedding a mistake, or was it a necessary step in guiding him towards a better path? I appreciate your understanding.
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