On my thirtieth birthday, my mother-in-law raised a toast with the words: «To our silly girl from a poor family who lives off our money», and my husband started laughing loudly at that. Then my father stood up from the table and did something that made my mother-in-law freeze in place…

He seemed to see in me not a former daughter-in-law, but a person deserving respect. Once, almost a year after the divorce, I met him at a cafe; he sat alone reviewing documents and noticeably brightened seeing me. «Paula,» he stood, greeting me.

«Glad to see you; sit down.» I sat at his table, feeling strange awkwardness; after all, he was my ex-husband’s father. «How are you?» he asked, setting aside the papers.

«Good, thanks; and you?» «Normal, working as always.» We talked about the weather, city news, my father’s health, then Victor suddenly said. «You know, Paula, I should thank you.»

«Me? For what?» «For opening my eyes to my family, my wife, my son. I looked at him uncomprehendingly. What happened at your birthday,» he continued, «made me think about what I’ve created, what kind of people my loved ones have become, and I didn’t like what I saw.

I was silent, not knowing what to answer.» Valerie has always been a complex person, Victor spoke slowly, choosing words; ambitious, demanding, but once she was kind and caring too; just money and status changed her, and I didn’t notice because I was too busy with business. And Kyle? Kyle, he sighed; my son, and I love him, but I can’t deny I raised him wrong; gave him everything material and nothing spiritual, taught him to make money but not to be a person.

Victor sipped his coffee, looking over my shoulder. You know what struck me most that evening? Not Valerie’s toast; unfortunately, I’m used to her tactlessness, and not Kyle’s reaction; I knew he was too dependent on his mother; what struck me was your father’s speech: calm, dignified, without accusations or insults. He defended you, defended your family, but did it with such dignity.

I suddenly saw what a real man should be, and realized how far I was from that ideal. I was surprised by his frankness.

Victor had never talked to me about personal things before. And what’s with Kyle now? I asked, feeling I should. He’s in London, studying, working, trying to find himself.

I’m glad for him. He’s changed a lot, Paula; what happened affected him strongly. I nodded, hoping for the better.

I hope so too; Victor finished his coffee and looked at his watch. Time for my meeting, he said, standing; nice talking to you. Me too; I realized with surprise I meant it.

He was about to leave but turned. Paula, I have a request for you. What? If Kyle ever wants to come back to you, give him a chance; not for him or me, for yourself; I see he really loves you, and such feeling is rare in our family.

I didn’t know what to say. The thought of returning to Kyle seemed absurd, impossible. I can’t promise anything, Victor.

Of course, he nodded; just think about it. He left, leaving me in confusion. I hadn’t planned to return to the past, started a new life, new career, but Victor’s words made me think: can people really change, and if so, do they deserve a second chance? Time passed; I immersed in work, became writing more, got a promotion; parents settled in the new apartment; Dad fully recovered after surgery; life stabilized, became calm and predictable.

Then, a year and a half after the divorce, there was a knock at my door. I opened and froze: Kyle stood on the threshold, but not the Kyle I knew; this one was different: thinner, with light stubble, in simple clothes, without the usual polish. «Hi,» he said uncertainly, «may I come in?» I silently stepped aside, letting him in.

He entered the living room, stopped in the middle, looking around. Everything’s changed here, he noted. Yes, I did a remodel.

The apartment indeed looked different: light walls, minimalist furniture, lots of books, photos on walls, nothing of the former luxury, nothing of the Harrington style. «Beautiful,» Kyle said, «very much your style.» We sat facing each other, like that last evening before the divorce, but now everything was different; we were different people, with different experiences, different views on life.

«How are you?» Kyle asked. — Good; working at the magazine, recently got a promotion; parents moved here, live nearby. I’m glad for you, really glad.

And you? Your father said you’re in London. Was in London, studied at business school, worked at a startup; returned a week ago. For good? Don’t know, he shrugged; haven’t decided yet.

We fell silent again; between us hung an invisible wall: not of enmity but alienation; too much unsaid, unforgiven. «Why did you come, Kyle?» I asked directly. He took a deep breath.

«I wanted to see you, learn how you’re living, and say something important. I’m listening.» Kyle raised his eyes to me, determination in them.

A year and a half ago, when we divorced, I thought it was the end of the world. I lost you; my relationships with parents collapsed, especially with Mom. I felt like a complete failure; that’s why I left: wanted to start from scratch.

He paused, choosing words. «And did it work?» I asked, trying to speak calmly, though my heart pounded madly. «Yes,» he nodded, «in a way it did.

I studied, worked, lived on my own, without Dad’s money; for the first time in life, earned by my own labor. It was sobering.» I smiled slightly; I can imagine.

But the main thing I realized during this time is what an idiot I was, how weak, spineless, infantile a person. I let Mom control my life, dictate how I should live, who to be with, and lost the most valuable thing I had: you. I was silent, not knowing what to answer.

His words had sincerity I hadn’t heard in a very long time. «Paula,» he leaned forward, «I’m not asking you to come back to me. I know you have your own life, and you’re unlikely to want to return to the past.

I just wanted to thank you.» «Thank? For what?» «For making me better. For, thanks to you and your father, I finally understood what it means to be a real man, a person, not a puppet.»

He stood, went to the window, looking at the evening city. «You know,» he continued without turning, «when your father took the microphone from my mother, I first feared a scandal, then heard his words: calm, dignified, without accusations or insults. He defended you, defended your family, but did it with such dignity…