Mathieu was now crying silently.
– Yes.
Colette did not get up to hug him.
It cost him dearly.
But she remained seated.
— Listen to me carefully. Amandine may have pushed you, threatened you, manipulated you. But it was your hand that filled out this document.
He nodded.
– I know.
— You could have come here. Told me you had debts. Told me your marriage was falling apart. I might not have paid, but I would have listened to you.
— I was ashamed.
– And now ?
Mathieu wiped his face.
— Now I’m even more ashamed.
Colette closed the envelope.
— Then use it to change something.
He raised his head.
— You’re not going to go back over the 3 months?
— Non.
He closed his eyes.
Colette continued more softly:
— If I let you stay as you were because you’re crying in front of me today, in 6 months we’ll be in exactly the same place.
— I can pay rent.
— It’s no longer just a question of rent.
She looked around her.
— This house needs to become a place where I feel safe again.
Mathieu did not protest.
Before leaving, he asked:
— Are you going to file a complaint?
Colette watched her son.
— I haven’t decided. But the bank will keep the document. And you’ll live knowing that I could very well decide to do it if a new limit is crossed.
Mathieu nodded.
– Understood.
The following weeks were strangely silent.
The lifestyle on that floor changed abruptly.
Amandine’s large SUV remained motionless for several days.
Mathieu started taking the tram to work again.
The deliveries disappeared.
Even the shopping bags that used to appear every Saturday stopped arriving.
Then came the boxes.
At first, Colette could only hear adhesive tape above her head.
Next, furniture was photographed and then sold on second-hand websites.
One evening, she saw Amandine handing over to a woman the velvet armchair she had wanted to buy just after the birthday.
The famous armchair for which she was still demanding Colette’s bank card.
Amandine caught sight of her mother-in-law behind the window.
Their eyes met.
Neither signaled to the other.
The war had lost its sound.
Instead, only the consequences remained.
One month before the planned departure, Mathieu asked to speak to his mother in the garden.
— Amandine and I will probably separate.
Colette put down her pruning shears.
— That’s your decision.
— Ever since money became scarce, all we do is argue.
He gave a sad laugh.
— She says I’ve become stingy.
– And you ?
— I think above all that I was a coward.
Colette did not reply.
— I spent years saying yes to him to avoid conflicts. And when money was needed, I knew that you would eventually say yes too.
He looked at the rose bushes.
— I transformed you into the solution to everything I refused to face.
The phrase touched Colette more deeply than an apology.
Because it didn’t erase anything.
But she was finally naming the problem.
“Your children are going to need stability,” she said. “Whatever happens between you, don’t use them as bargaining chips.”
– I know.
— And settle your debts yourself.
Mathieu gave a tired smile.
— I understand that.
Moving day arrived on a grey Saturday morning.
Amandine’s mother and sister came to help.
They avoided Colette.
Amandine was directing operations from the alley, phone in hand.
Mathieu was bringing down the boxes.
The children, for their part, had come to say goodbye to their grandmother the day before.
Colette had explained something simple to them: their parents were moving house, but they would always have a place with her.
She had refused to tell them the details.
The anger of adults did not have to become the burden of children.
At 5 p.m., the floor was empty.
Mathieu went downstairs one last time with a set of keys.
— We found an apartment in Villeurbanne. Smaller.
— Will you be able to pay for it?
– Yes.
He hesitated.
— Amandine will be staying with her mother for a few weeks. We’ll decide after that.
He placed the keys in Colette’s palm.
— I also started a support program with a budget counseling association.
Colette closed her fingers around the key ring.
— That’s a good decision.
Mathieu remained in front of her.
– Mom…
She waited.
– I’m sorry.
This time, no “buts” followed.
No Amandine.
No debts.
No fear.
Just those 3 words.
Colette felt her eyes fill with tears.
— I love you, Mathieu. But I no longer want to love you by paying for you to avoid your own life.
His son lowered his head.
– I understand.
They did not kiss.
Not yet.
But when he left, he turned around before getting into his car.
Colette raised her hand slightly.
He did the same.
That was enough.
After he left, she went upstairs.
The empty rooms echoed.
She crossed the living room, opened a window and stood for a long time in front of the cold draft.
Six years of life had just left these walls.
She expected to feel guilty.
Instead, she simply heard the birds in the garden.
A few weeks later, after restoring the apartment, she looked for a tenant.
She chose Mireille, a 64-year-old former librarian who had just sold her house after her divorce.
During the visit, Mireille asked:
— Is it quiet here?
Colette smiled.
— It has become so.
The lease was signed according to the rules.
Each month, for the first time in a long time, money was going into Colette’s account instead of going out to fix the choices of others.
She also began to live for herself again.
She enrolled in photography courses.
He met up with two former colleagues.
She finally booked the trip to Brittany that she had been putting off since her husband’s death.
