**Diary Entry – “Leave Her Be!”**
When Christine’s phone rang, she barely recognised her mother’s voice. It was thin, almost childlike, choked with worry.
“Christine, can you come home?”
A chill ran down her spine. She’d heard that tone only once before—when Granddad passed. Back then, the family had scrambled to pack, rummaging for anything black to wear. Only her brother William had a suitable wardrobe, his teenage goth phase finally proving useful. Then came the endless train ride, stifling and silent, and the oppressive quiet of the flat where Granddad—a painter—had spent his final days.
“What’s happened?!” Her voice trembled. Her mind flashed to Edward, her fiancé, who’d surely fly into a rage if the wedding had to be postponed again. Last time, she’d delayed it because of a broken leg, and he’d snapped—flights booked, everything arranged! But this wasn’t her fault…
“Your nan’s test results are bad. Just got back from the hospital…”
Christine sighed. She knew Nan had been undergoing tests but had hoped for the best. Still, if no one had died, there was no need to cancel the wedding. Or maybe she ought to hurry, just in case…
The thought of losing Nan was unbearable. She’d always been there—kind, strong, unshakable. When Granddad walked out on Mum, Nan worked triple shifts so her daughter never wanted for anything. Even now, on her meagre pension, she still found ways to support Christine and William.
“I’ll come,” Christine managed.
Nan greeted her with forced cheer, even cracking jokes:
“Don’t fret, love. They’ll give me chemo—might do the trick. Just hate to lose my hair. Had it all my life…”
“Let’s dye it! You’ll be the belle of the wedding!” Christine forced a smile.
Nan fussed, digging into her purse:
“Here, take this for the dye. Don’t argue!”
“Nan, really, I can—”
“You’ve got enough on your plate. Take it.” She pulled out a pink gift bag next. Inside was a handmade ivory shawl—old-fashioned, but so full of love Christine knew she’d wear it on the big day.
“Thank you! It’s gorgeous!”
“Your mum said you’d never wear anything like this… Nothing’s ever good enough for her. Made her a dress once, and she dyed it green—spiteful thing!”
Christine lied gently:
“Mum said it was an accident…”
Over tea, chatter, and dyeing Nan’s hair, time slipped away. A knock came—William and his mate Kieran arrived with a kitten, ginger like Nan’s old cat Marmalade, who’d passed three years prior.
“Kieran, I’m dying… What am I meant to do with a kitten?”
“No one’s chucking anyone out, Nan. Now you’ve got to stick around,” William winked.
Christine and Kieran popped to the shops for milk and sweets. He was quiet until murmuring:
“Feel rotten for Nan. Hope she pulls through.”
“You’ll come to the wedding?”
“Course…” He said nothing more, but his gaze held something Christine feared to name.
The evening was warm. Nan laughed, William praised her new ‘do, and Kieran admired the shawl. Only Mum was missing—on shift at the hospital. Christine checked her phone—dozens of messages from Edward. She’d completely forgotten dinner with his parents…
“Where the hell were you?!” Edward roared. “Mum was worried sick!”
“At Nan’s. She has cancer…”
“She’s had her time. We’re planning a wedding here!”
William drove her home. Kieran stayed with Nan. The fight that followed was explosive. Edward called the shawl a “rags” and forbade her from wearing it.
“I’m wearing it,” Christine said. “It’s Nan’s gift.”
“You taking the piss?”
Arguments raged until the wedding day. Then Nan was hospitalised. Christine begged to postpone—Edward exploded:
“Money’s spent! Everything’s booked! Guests are here! Let your nan get her treatment.”
On the day, she wore the shawl anyway.
“Take that bloody tablecloth off!” Edward snarled.
“It’s *my* wedding!” Christine clenched her fists.
“I’m your husband—you’ll do as I say!”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
Gasps from her bridesmaids. Parents tried to mediate. But Christine knew—she wouldn’t stay. Wouldn’t fold, wouldn’t endure…
“I need to see Nan. Take me there.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Edward grabbed her arm.
“Don’t you dare touch her!” A voice cut in.
Kieran. Face alight with fury.
“She’s my wife—keep out of it!”
“No. She’s not.” William punched Edward square in the jaw. “Let’s go to Nan’s!”
Screams, tears, curses from Edward’s mother—chaos. But Christine followed her brother. And Kieran, who fell into step beside her, past abandoned decorations and deflated balloons.
**Lesson Learnt:** Some tether you, others set you free. The hardest bonds to break are the ones you outgrow.