Chapter 5 - What Céline Had Been Planning
Colette did not open Céline’s phone.
She had spent too much of the previous week demanding respect for her own privacy to violate someone else’s.
But she could not unsee the message.
Did she sign anything yet?
The following morning, Colette called Sophie.
She repeated the exact words.
The lawyer became quiet.
“Has anyone asked you to sign documents recently?”
“No.”
“Has your son?”
“No.”
“Your daughter-in-law?”
“No.”
“Have they discussed refinancing?”
“Not with me.”
Sophie paused.
“Then don’t panic. A text can mean many things.”
Colette appreciated that.
No melodrama.
No assumptions.
“But,” Sophie continued, “do not sign anything involving the property without independent review.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Good.”
Colette hung up.
At breakfast, Céline seemed exhausted.
Thomas had already left for an appointment.
Not work.
An appointment.
The previous night, he had searched for gambling support and counseling resources.
It was a small step.
But it was real.
Céline poured coffee.
“Where’s Thomas?”
“Appointment.”
“What appointment?”
“You should ask him.”
Céline rolled her eyes.
“More secrets.”
Colette nearly responded.
Instead, she asked, “How long have you known Isabelle?”
Céline stopped.
“Why?”
“Conversation.”
“Ten years.”
“Does she work in property?”
Céline’s eyes sharpened.
“Why are you asking?”
There was the answer.
Colette set down her cup.
“I saw a message appear on your phone last night.”
“You went through my phone?”
“No.”
“You read my messages?”
“One appeared on the lock screen while the phone was lying on my table.”
Céline became defensive.
“What did it say?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Something about whether I had signed anything.”
Céline looked away.
“It's nothing.”
“Explain it.”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“It mentioned me.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Céline.”
Silence.
Then Céline sighed.
“Isabelle’s brother works in finance.”
Colette waited.
“Thomas asked about options months ago.”
“What options?”
“If we needed money.”
Colette felt cold.
“Against the apartment?”
“Not exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
Céline stood.
“You should talk to Thomas.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“He started it.”
“Started what?”
Céline’s eyes filled with anger again.
“Trying to solve our problem!”
“With my property?”
“He was desperate.”
Colette stood too.
“What did he plan to ask me to sign?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not!”
Then Thomas walked in.
He took one look at them.
“What happened?”
Colette turned.
“Did you intend to ask me to use this apartment to secure money for your debts?”
Thomas froze.
That was enough.
Colette felt something inside her sink.
“Answer me.”
Thomas closed the door.
“Yes.”
Céline whispered, “Thomas.”
“No more lying.”
He looked at his mother.
“I spoke to someone.”
“Who?”
“A financial adviser Isabelle’s brother knows.”
“And?”
“He said there might be ways to raise money against the apartment.”
“My apartment.”
“Yes.”
“And you intended to ask me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you intend to tell me it was for gambling debt?”
Thomas couldn’t answer.
Colette closed her eyes.
That silence was worse than yes.
“Mom—”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No. I need a minute.”
She walked into her bedroom and closed the door.
For fifteen minutes, she sat beside Bernard’s photograph.
She was furious.
But beneath the anger was grief.
Thomas had not stolen anything.
He had not forged anything.
He had not actually asked her to sign.
But he had considered using the home she and Bernard spent decades paying for to rescue himself from gambling losses.
That truth changed something.
A knock came.
“Mom?”
Colette opened the door.
Thomas stood alone.
“Can I come in?”
She stepped aside.
He sat.
“I never went through with it.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew it was wrong.”
“Or because you thought I’d say no?”
“Both.”
At least he was honest.
Thomas stared at Bernard’s records.
“I’ve been lying for months.”
“Yes.”
“I’d lose money and think one more bet would fix it.”
Colette listened.
“Then I’d lose that and need another.”
He rubbed his palms together.
“I stopped sleeping. I lied about overtime because sometimes I sat in cafés staring at games on my phone.”
Colette’s anger softened but did not disappear.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Dad never did anything like this.”
There it was.
Bernard.
Thomas had spent his life measuring himself against a dead man.
“Your father made mistakes.”
“Not like mine.”
“No. His were different.”
Thomas looked up.
“He once nearly lost half our savings on a business idea.”
“What?”
“You were twelve.”
“You never told me.”
“There was no reason to.”
“Dad?”
Colette smiled faintly.
“He thought he and a friend were going to open a repair shop. The friend disappeared with part of the investment.”
Thomas stared.
“What happened?”
“Your father came home, told me everything, and spent two years replacing the money.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“He told you.”
“The same night.”
“That’s the difference.”
“Yes.”
Thomas began crying.
Quietly.
Colette moved beside him.
She did not tell him everything would be fine.
Instead, she said, “You can still become a man who tells the truth.”
Thomas nodded.
“But you have to do it now, when the truth costs you something.”
He wiped his eyes.
“I signed up for a program.”
“What program?”
He explained.
Counseling.
Financial restrictions.
Self-exclusion from gambling services.
Céline would control household accounts temporarily.
He had also contacted his employer about legitimate overtime.
“I’m going to repay the twelve thousand.”
“To Céline?”
“To our family savings.”
“Good.”
“And we’ll leave in six months.”
Colette looked at him.
“You don’t have to prove something by suffering.”
“I know.”
“But you do need to become independent.”
“I know.”
Later, Thomas told Céline everything.
Not just what Colette knew.
Everything.
The hidden bets.
The loans.
The near-plan involving the apartment.
Céline cried.
Then she packed a suitcase.
Thomas did not stop her.
She took the children to her sister’s house for the weekend.
The apartment became eerily quiet.
Saturday morning, Colette made two coffees.
She and Thomas sat at the table.
“Do you think she’ll leave me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always know what to do.”
Colette shook her head.
“That is one of the biggest lies children believe about their mothers.”
Thomas smiled weakly.
“What should I do?”
“Give her reasons to trust you again.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“Then you respect that.”
Thomas stared into his coffee.
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Will you trust me again?”
Colette considered the question.
“Yes.”
Thomas looked surprised.
“Eventually.”
He laughed softly.
“Fair.”
Céline returned Sunday night.
She looked different.
No polished confidence.
No sharp remarks.
She asked Colette if they could speak alone.
They sat in the kitchen.
“I blamed you,” Céline said.
“For Thomas gambling?”
“For everything.”
Colette listened.
“I thought if you weren’t here, Thomas would have to grow up.”
“That’s an interesting way to describe my apartment.”
Céline almost smiled.
“I know.”
She looked down.
“I hated needing you.”
Colette hadn’t expected that.
“Why?”
“Because every time you cooked, cleaned, picked up the children, I felt like I was failing.”
“So you made me feel unwelcome.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t fair.”
“No.”
Céline’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
This apology felt different.
No qualification.
No if.
No excuse.
Colette nodded.
“Thank you.”
Céline wiped her cheek.
“I also told Isabelle too much. About the apartment. About Thomas’s debts. She connected us with her brother. I should have stopped it.”
“Yes.”
“I did eventually.”
Colette looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I realized we were talking about your home like you were already dead.”
The sentence landed brutally.
Céline covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Colette’s eyes filled.
At least it was true.
“That,” Colette whispered, “is exactly how it felt.”
For the first time in years, the two women looked at each other without pretending.
Not mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
Not owner and guest.
Two frightened women who had both allowed resentment to replace honesty.
Céline reached for Colette’s hand.
She stopped halfway.
“May I?”
Colette nodded.
Céline took it.
“I’ll sign the agreement.”
“You should read it first.”
“I did.”
“All of it?”
“Twice.”
Colette smiled.
“Good.”
“And we’ll move.”
Colette felt sadness unexpectedly.
“You’re still my family.”
“I know.”
“Moving doesn’t change that.”
“Maybe it’ll save it.”
Perhaps it would.
The following month was difficult.
Thomas attended counseling.
Céline began searching for rentals.
They cut expenses drastically.
Colette stopped functioning as unpaid household staff.
Oddly, the grandchildren adjusted fastest.
When their granddaughter asked why Grandma no longer did everyone’s laundry, Céline answered before Colette could.
“Because Grandma isn’t our maid.”
Colette looked at her.
Céline gave a small, embarrassed smile.
Progress.
Then one Tuesday afternoon, Thomas received a call.
Colette saw his expression change.
After hanging up, he sat motionless.
“What is it?”
Thomas looked at Céline.
Then his mother.
“My company is restructuring.”
Céline went pale.
“No.”
Thomas swallowed.
“My position is being eliminated.”
The room fell silent.
They had four months left before the move-out deadline.
Their savings were nearly gone.
Thomas had only just begun repairing the damage.
And now the income they were depending on had disappeared.
Céline slowly looked toward Colette.
Colette knew exactly what everyone was thinking.
Would the deadline disappear?
Would she rescue them again?
For three years, the answer would have been yes.
But this time, Colette understood that love sometimes required a different answer.
May you like
And the decision she made next would determine whether Thomas truly changed—or returned to being the man who waited for his mother to save him.
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