“Get out of my way!” exclaimed Thomas, his hand raised in a threatening gesture toward his wife.

Catherine gasped and raised her arm defensively, but Thomas could not bring himself to touch her; their son, Henry, had appeared at his side and grasped his father’s wrist.

“Don’t you dare touch Mum!”

Thomas glared at his son, his temper boiling over. There was a time when he could strike Henry without hesitation, but those days were long gone. Before him stood not a small boy, but a robust sixteen-year-old young man.

“Little pup!” Thomas spat.

“Go to hell!” Henry shot back defiantly.

Thomas slammed his fist against the doorframe and stormed out. Catherine stifled a sob, covering her face with her hands. Henry shifted awkwardly beside her, unsure how to comfort his weeping mother, but eventually wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

“Oh, Henry, how are we to go on from here?”

Henry understood that his mother was asking how to deal with his father. Thomas had long been drinking, and no matter how much Catherine pleaded, how often she stood in his way or cried, he consistently chose the bottle over his family.

“Mum, why don’t you just leave him?” Henry asked gloomily.

“What? How could I abandon Thomas? He would be lost without me!”

Catherine waved her hand dismissively, wiped her tear-stained cheeks, and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. She knew Thomas would return late and would be hungry in the morning, so she endeavoured to make something for him.

Henry found it hard to grasp why his mother continued to fuss over a man who had just threatened her. Why bother? What was the point? Unable to hold back, he went into the kitchen with a somber question:

“Mum, don’t you have any self-respect?”

“What do you mean, darling? He is my husband! How could I leave him all alone? Besides, someone has to cook. I promised Thomas I would be a faithful wife, no matter the situation, and I intend to keep my word.”

“But it’s foolish! He doesn’t keep his promises! He swore to cherish you and never hurt you at our wedding! And look at what’s happening now?”

Henry stubbornly referred to Thomas as “he” or by his first name, refusing to call him “Father.” He had resolved long ago that parents should not behave this way.

“Henry, don’t judge your father so harshly. He has his struggles and is simply not handling them well. It happens.”

“Mum, that’s just excuses! Everyone has their problems! That doesn’t give anyone the right to hit you or me or to drink.”

Catherine lowered her hands as she stood near the stove. She recognised that her son was right; he understood everything. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away, to let go, to file for divorce. There was still a part of her that believed, just a bit longer, and Thomas would change. He would stop drinking and learn to love her and Henry. But such hopes had clung to her for nearly a decade. And what had changed?

“Henry, I need to think,” Catherine answered quietly.

Henry believed there was nothing to ponder, but he refrained from arguing, noticing that his mother was indeed preoccupied with her thoughts.

Henry left to tend to his own affairs, knowing that his father would not return for a while, leaving his mother free from worry. He had long grown accustomed to defending her, making it feel mundane, even though he understood it should not be so. Thomas was only dangerous when he craved a drink; otherwise, in his stupor, he would not harm either his wife or son.

Henry spent the evening out with friends, lifting weights at the park. He was reluctant to return home, even though darkness descended and a chill hung in the air. Daytime allowed for football shirts, but with nightfall came the cold.

In his thin sweater, Henry soon felt the cold creeping in and finally decided to head home, knowing what awaited him. A drunken father snoring on the sofa and a distressed mother in the kitchen.

Henry bounded up the steps and halted in shock. The door stood ajar. This unsettled him because Catherine always locked the door behind Thomas. Had something happened? He clenched his fists and stepped into the hallway, gently closing the door behind him.

“Mum, where are you? Is everything alright?”

He flicked on the light in the living room, not considering that he might wake his father, but he found it empty. Thomas was not in the bedroom either, which only heightened Henry’s anxiety. He rushed into the kitchen, hoping to find Catherine there.

“Mum, are you here?” he exclaimed, flicking the switch and cursing softly upon seeing the scene before him.

Catherine lay unconscious on the floor, having clearly struck her head against the counter. Relief washed over him when he realised she was still breathing.

“Hello, emergency services? Please, we need an ambulance. Someone is unwell here,” Henry struggled to articulate what needed to be said.

“What’s happened? Who is unwell?” came a disinterested voice on the line.

“My mother has been beaten… She’s unconscious. Please, hurry…”

He provided their address and then contacted the police. He was resolute in ensuring his father faced consequences. How could anyone live peacefully after raising a hand against the vulnerable? Those one ought to protect?

Before long, Henry was providing statements, and Catherine regained consciousness, sitting quietly on the sofa, processing what had occurred. From time to time, he glanced at her and finally asked,

“Mum, what happened?”

The police officer took a keen interest in her as well. He had refrained from questioning her initially, seeing she was not in a state to respond, but now seemed a suitable time to speak with her.

Catherine slowly turned to her son and softly said, “Henry, please don’t be angry with your father.”

“What? Mum, what are you saying? Let him just try to come back here! What has he done to you? He shouldn’t have returned so soon!”

“Thomas left some money behind, and when he came back for it, I tried talking to him once more. It didn’t go well, and he just became agitated.”

“Thomas!” Henry exclaimed, disgust evident on his face. He couldn’t fathom how his mother could still refer to the monster who had assaulted her by such a familiar name.

“Henry, your father is a troubled man; he deserves pity.”

“No, Mum, he deserves nothing but hatred! I feel nothing for him.”

The police officer had grown weary of the family quarrel. He was familiar with such situations and was quite certain that the wife would not place blame on her husband.

“Are you going to file a report?” he inquired.

“No!” Catherine retorted, her head snapping up. The officer smirked; it was precisely the response he had anticipated. But he hadn’t counted on Henry, who had formulated a plan and now stared coldly at his mother.

“If you don’t file charges against him, he will come back here, and I will beat him. I’ll end up arrested, and he’ll be left battered. Is that what you want? Would you prefer I go to jail while he becomes crippled?”

Silence engulfed the room as Catherine weighed her son’s words and sensed the truth in them. Thomas had gone too far. Henry rightly interpreted her silence and pressed on,

“Mum, you’re tired of this! You’re a young, beautiful woman! Why are you enduring this alcoholic? Divorce him, throw him out, and we can live a normal life!”

Catherine studied Henry intently, suddenly realising that he had matured and had grown weary of shielding her from a drunken father. She also recognised Henry was right—if Thomas could not keep his promises, why should she endure and strive to be the perfect wife?

The days had long passed when Thomas would at least apologise for his behavior. Now, he viewed slurred shouts and insults as a standard.

“I will file a report,” Catherine stated firmly, a determined smile spreading across Henry’s face, pleased that he had reached her.

The police officer raised his brow in surprise. It was uncommon for battered wives to take such steps.

“Can we somehow protect ourselves from him?” Catherine asked. “I do not wish for him to interfere with our lives.”

“We will imprison him for assaulting you. It’s a threat to your lives; you very nearly lost yours, and your husband will not escape without consequences.”

“Perfect! Will I have time to divorce him while he’s locked up?”

“You may even remarry when he’s out,” the police officer chuckled.

As Henry listened to his mother, a smile crept onto his face. He hadn’t seen her so resolute and assertive in ages. Finally, she had cast off the burden Thomas had placed upon her and rediscovered herself!

“Why are you smiling?” Catherine playfully swatted the back of Henry’s head when they were alone. “And don’t think I won’t have something to say to you! Out late at night again!”

Henry laughed heartily, unperturbed by her stern tone. Catherine too began to smile as she looked at him.

“Darling, thank you for pushing me to do this. I wouldn’t have been able to do it on my own…”

Henry said nothing in response; he merely embraced his mother awkwardly before darting off to his room. He had never been fond of overt displays of emotion, yet inside, he felt a wave of happiness.

Everything would soon become right again. Henry had even made a promise to himself to focus more on his studies and assist his mother more often. Now that Thomas was out of their lives, he found himself wanting to be home more frequently than ever before.

Catherine blossomed at the thought of no longer living in fear. Thomas was arrested that very evening, and now he sat in custody. Catherine visited him only once to say goodbye and inform him of the impending divorce. Of course, Thomas cried and begged for her forgiveness.

“I forgave you that night,” Catherine told him. “But I no longer love you. Don’t come back to us; we are starting a new life.”

Catherine left the prison and walked home, taking a long route to gather her thoughts. The future felt light and carefree, and life burst into vibrant colors. The only regret she carried was not leaving Thomas sooner.