Bradley paced his office, the phone pressed tightly to his ear as he listened to the endless ringing on the other end. He hadn’t spoken to Mateo properly since the last fight–since the day his son had called Joyce evil and stormed out of the gallery. But now, Bradley felt the weight of every word he’d ever sald, and he knew it was time to make it right.
Finally, Mateo answered.
“What do you want?” came his son’s voice–distant, guarded.
Bradley took a deep breath. “I want to talk. About your mother.”
There was a pause. Then, coldly, Mateo replied, “Didn’t you used to tell me she was nothing? That she was just a woman who folded shirts and made soup?”
Bradley winced. “I was wrong.”
“You made me believe she didn’t love me. That she didn’t matter. That Maine was better.”
Bradley’s voice cracked as he spoke. “And I was a fool. A blind, arrogant fool. Maine was never better–Joyce… your mom… she was everything. She is everything.”
Mateo’s silence this time was longer. The anger in his voice was softer when he finally said, “It’s too late, Dad. I heard she’s going to get married. To him.”
Bradley closed his eyes. “I know. To Lorenzo.”
Mateo asked quietly, “What about Maine?”
“I called off the wedding,” Bradley said. “She didn’t want to be a wife. Not really. Not if it meant staying at home or doing what your mother once did. She walked out, and I realized -I never wanted Maine. I just… I didn’t know what I had.”
He paused, swallowing hard. “Joyce was the one who kept our world turning. She raised you. Me. She never asked for anything. And we treated her like she was disposable.” Mateo didn’t speak right away. Then he exhaled. “Maybe… maybe we should try. Talk to her.”
Bradley nodded, though his throat was thick with regret. “I’d like that.”
The auction was already in full swing at the gallery when Bradley and Mateo arrived.
Inside, the room was warm with energy–spotlights bouncing off art–covered walls, voices rising with excited bids, glasses clinking with celebratory toasts, Joyce stood beside Lorenzo near the front, her cheeks glowing with joy as another of her paintings was sold at a high price. It was the most she had smiled in years.
Lorenzo leaned over, whispering something that made her laugh. There was no strain in her eyes. No sadness in her shoulders.
She was happy.
Outside, however, chaos stirred.
Bradley
and Mateo approached the gallery entrance only to be stopped abruptly by two
My Husband of Twenty–Five Years Mamod Musi
a high price. It was the most she had smiled in years.
Lorenzo leaned over, whispering something that made her laugh. There was no strain in her eyes. No sadness in her shoulders..
She was happy.
Outside, however, chaos stirred.
Bradley and Mateo approached the gallery entrance only to be stopped abruptly by two suited guards.
“Sir, you’ve been banned from the premises,” one of them said, firm and unmoving.
“What?” Bradley asked, stunned. “We’re just here to talk to her.”
The guard shook his head. “She left orders. No exceptions.”
“We’re family,” Mateo tried.
“Doesn’t matter,” the other guard replied. “She asked not to be disturbed–especially by your
two.”
Inside, the laughter and chatter continued, the soft hum of piano music drifting toward the doors.
Joyce was sipping her wine when she heard murmurs from the front–one of the guards had slipped inside and quietly told Lorenzo something. Lorenzo’s jaw tensed as he glanced toward her.
“What is it?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Bradley and Mateo. They’re outside. The guards are handling it.”
Her chest tightened. Her first instinct was to ignore it–to let the guards turn them away like she had asked. But something about the look on Lorenzo’s face, and something. deeper inside her, pulled her away from the celebration.
“I’ll talk to them,” she said softly.
Lorenzo nodded, though concern lingered in his eyes. “You sure?”
“I need to,” she said. “But I’ll meet them around back. I don’t want them in here.”
Lorenzo gave a subtle signal to the guard, and Joyce slipped through the back hallway of the gallery.
She found them behind the building, standing under the muted glow of the streetlamp. Bradley looked thinner than she remembered. Older. And Mateo, his face stiff with. uncertainty, stood at his father’s side.
Joyce folded her arms, standing straight. “What are you doing here?”
Bradley stepped forward, but carefully, as if afraid she might vanish. “We came to see you. To… apologize.”
Joyce said nothing, her face unreadable.
“I know it’s late,” Bradley added. “I know I should’ve done this years ago. But I didn’t realize what I had until you were gone. Joyce, I-”
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uncertainty, stood at his father’s side.
Joyce folded her arms, standing straight. “What are you doing here?”
Bradley stepped forward, but carefully, as if afraid she might vanish. “We came to see you. To… apologize.”
Joyce said nothing, her face unreadable.
“I know it’s late,” Bradley added. “I know I should’ve done this years ago. But I didn’t realize what I had until you were gone. Joyce, I-”
To her shock, he lowered himself onto one knee on the cold pavement.
“Bradley!” she gasped. “Get up!”
But he didn’t.
“I didn’t deserve you,” he said. “Not once in twenty–five years. I ignored you. Belittled you. I let everyone–including me–treat you like a servant instead of a wife. And still, you stayed. You loved us. You loved me.”
His voice trembled. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I’m not even asking for it. But I needed
you to know that I remember everything. Every meal. Every late night. Every time you stood alone. And I’m sorry. For all of it.”
Joyce stared at him, stunned.
Mateo stepped forward too. “Mom… I was wrong, too. I said things I didn’t mean. I believed things that weren’t true. I just want to say I’m sorry.”
Joyce’s lips parted, her breath shaking. This was everything she had once prayed for- acknowledgment, remorse, a sliver of justice.
And yet now, as she looked down at the two men who had broken her, she felt something else…
Closure.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She simply looked at them with a calmness that came only from healing.
“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly. “But I’m not coming back.”
Bradley looked up slowly, eyes glassy.
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19:56 Sat 24 May @) vj
