Saturday. Meeting with Teresa. She took a deep breath. Then she decided.
«I am going to go earlier. Alone,» she murmured, feeling her grandmother’s voice still floating in the air. She would not say anything to Robert.
The next day, she dressed without haste. Denim pants, a simple blouse, hair tied back. She got into the car and drove in silence.
At every traffic light, the dream returned: Clara’s gaze, the warning. When she arrived at Teresa’s house, she parked a few houses away.
She walked the last few yards. The street was quiet. She rang the doorbell. No one answered.
She rang again. And then, from the back of the house, she saw something. A woman was leaving through the back door.
Young, blonde, wearing a red jacket, hurried. She got into a car without looking back. Mary froze.
Moments later, Teresa opened the door.
«Mary, what a surprise. Were you not coming this afternoon with Robert?»
«I wanted to talk to you alone.»
Teresa observed her with a tight smile. «Of course, come in. I was just preparing something to eat.»
Mary entered. The house smelled of stale coffee. Teresa led her to the dining room, where a folder with papers lay open on the table.
«I am reviewing the paperwork for the event hall,» she said.
But what Mary did not know was that the folder had nothing to do with the wedding. While Teresa went to the kitchen, Mary took a quick look.
Names, lists, addresses, and a title: «Single Property Owners.» A chill ran down her body. Then she understood.
The woman who left through the back door was not just any visitor. And Teresa was not just an intrusive mother-in-law. Mary swallowed. Her heart pounded in her chest.
And there, in that house where everything seemed orderly and quiet, her life began to crumble. Teresa returned from the hallway with a tray of dry cookies and a smile as fake as the embroidered tablecloth on the table.
«Do you like chamomile tea, Mary? It is calming,» she said, placing the cup in front of her with hands that trembled slightly.
«It is fine, thank you,» Mary replied, without taking her eyes off the folder she had just seen. She had subtly closed it as soon as she heard the footsteps returning.
Still, her mind kept reviewing what she managed to read. Women’s names, addresses, columns with titles like «Marital Status» and «Property in Own Name.» All in legible handwriting with marginal notes.
Teresa sat down on the other side of the table. Mary looked at her. Her gestures seemed the same, but there was a strange glint in her eyes, an uncomfortable stiffness, as if she knew she was acting and feared being discovered.
«Everything okay, Mary?» Teresa asked in a soft voice. «You look a little pale.»
«Yes, of course. Just… I woke up early.»
Lying to her was easy. Too easy. As if Teresa’s presence activated a defence mechanism that Mary did not know she had.
While she took a sip of tea, her thoughts were a dense cloud. Who was that woman who left through the back? Why did the folder contain such sensitive information?
Why was Teresa acting as if everything was fine when it was clear that it was not?
«Tell me, Mary,» Teresa said, while fiddling with a napkin. «Are you happy with Robert?»
The question dropped like a stone in the water. Mary looked at her, surprised.
«Of course,» she replied. «Why do you ask?»
«For no reason. Weddings always bring stress, doubts, things one thinks were already settled. And later, when you are already married, you realise there were signs, little ones, that you preferred not to see.»
«Are you referring to your marriage?»
Teresa laughed without humour. «I did not marry for love, Mary. I married because it looked good. Because back then, a woman without a husband was frowned upon.»
«But do not worry. You are not like me.»
«What do you mean?»
«That you have something I never had. A property in your name. A stable career. Control over your life. Robert needs a woman like that. You balance him.»
Mary swallowed. The conversation was a strange mix of praise and manipulation. Every word seemed to have another hidden behind it.
«And what do you think of Robert?» she asked.
Teresa looked at her. For an instant, her smile vanished. «He is my son.»
«And that is not what I asked you.»
«I know him better than anyone. I know what he is capable of. And also what he needs. Robert has flaws, like everyone. But he also has a big heart.»
«Does that woman who left through the back door think so too?»
The question was direct. A shot in the middle of the living room. Teresa tensed.
«What are you talking about?»
«That I saw her, Teresa. I saw a woman leaving out the back when I rang the doorbell. Blonde. Young. She seemed to be in a hurry.»
«Oh, it must have been someone from the neighbourhood. Sometimes I come to look after the son of a neighbour who works nearby.»
«And that neighbour leaves without her son?»
Teresa held her gaze for a few seconds. Then she sighed, got up, and went toward a wooden cupboard. She opened one of the drawers, took out a photo album, and dropped it onto the table in front of Mary.
«You want to know who it was? Then look.»
The tone had changed. Harsher. Less motherly. Mary opened the album.
At first, everything seemed normal. Old photos of Robert as a child, birthdays, trips to the beach, Christmases. But when she reached the most recent pages, her breath hitched.
There was Robert. Next to a slender blonde woman. With a wide smile and a red dress. He was hugging her around the waist.
Both were in front of a house she did not recognise. The date, written with a marker in a corner: June. Of last year.
One year. Only one year. Mary turned the page. More photos of them together.
At a restaurant. On a patio. At what looked like a wedding.
A wedding. In the image, Robert was wearing a dark suit, and the blonde woman was dressed in white. It was more informal than a traditional wedding, but the image left no room for doubt.
«What is this?» Mary asked, her voice cracking.
«A phase that has passed,» Teresa replied, without batting an eye. «Robert was with her, yes. It was crazy. Very fast. But it did not work out.»
«She was… problematic.»
«Problematic?»
«Too emotional. She wanted to control him. In the end, it was better that they separated.»
«Did they get married?»
«That is his business. And hers.»
Mary slammed the album shut. Her hands were shaking. «Why did he never tell me anything?»
«And did you ask him?»
The silence was absolute. Teresa sat down again. Her expression was different. More serious. More real.
«Listen carefully to what I am going to tell you, Mary. There are things that are better not to know. Sometimes the past is just that: the past. Digging it up only brings pain.»
«And what about the deception? Do you think anyone is safe from that?»
Mary got up. She could not stand it anymore. She walked toward the door and opened it quickly. Teresa did not move.
«Do you really want to marry Robert like this? Except that there are parts of his life that you will not understand, or control. Marriage is not a contract between angels.»
Mary left without answering. The drive back was long. The traffic seemed endless, but she did not see the cars or hear the noises.
She was only thinking about the blonde woman. About the photos. About the folder. About everything she had ignored for love.