He called before coming.
Evelyn was in the garden, trimming the roses her late husband had planted along the fence.
She invited him inside.
He arrived carrying no flowers, no expensive gifts, and no excuses.
“Mom, I’ve been thinking about what happened.”
She set two cups of tea on the kitchen table.
“So have I.”
Marcus sat down.
“I told Brielle that avoiding arguments isn’t the same as being a good husband. And it certainly wasn’t being a good son.”
Evelyn listened.
He continued.
“I knew she was uncomfortable about how much you were paying. I should have insisted we choose a wedding we could afford ourselves.”
“You could have.”
“I kept telling myself that as long as the two of you weren’t arguing, everything was fine.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“But you were being pushed out of the celebration while you were paying for it.”
Evelyn nodded.
“And you helped make that possible.”
“Yes.”
He looked directly at her.
“I was wrong.”
She reached for her tea.
“Thank you.”
Marcus told her that he and Brielle were reviewing their finances and had agreed not to ask either family for more wedding-related money.
They had begun discussing why they both avoided uncomfortable truths—Brielle through anger, Marcus through silence.
He hadn’t decided that one argument meant his marriage was doomed.
But he was no longer pretending it had been harmless.
“Brielle wrote you a letter,” he said.
He placed an envelope on the table.
Evelyn looked at it.
