“Don’t You Touch Her!”
When Christina’s phone rang, she barely recognized her mother’s voice. It was frail, almost childlike, tight with worry.
“Christina, can you come?”
A chill ran down her spine. She’d only heard that tone once—when Grandpa passed. Back then, the family had scrambled to find anything black to wear. Only her brother William had a suitable wardrobe, thanks to his teenage goth phase. Then came the endless train ride, stifling and silent, to the flat where her grandfather, an artist, had spent his final days.
“What’s wrong?” Christina’s voice wavered. Her mind flashed to Adrian, her fiancé, who’d surely be furious if the wedding had to be postponed again. The first delay was because of her broken leg. Adrian had shouted then—flights booked, everything arranged! But this time, surely it wasn’t her fault…
“Grandma’s test results came back bad. Just got home from hospital…”
Christina sighed. She knew Grandma had been undergoing tests but had hoped for the best. Still, if no one had died, the wedding wouldn’t have to be canceled. Or… maybe she should hurry, just in case.
Thinking of Grandma dying was terrifying. She’d always been there—kind, strong, the family’s rock. When Grandpa walked out on Mum, Grandma worked triple shifts to keep them afloat. Even now, scraping by on her pension, she found ways to help both Christina and William.
“I’ll come,” was all she could say.
Grandma greeted her with a smile, even cracking a joke:
“Don’t fret, love. Chemo might help. Just hate losing my hair. Had it long all my life…”
“Let’s dye it! You’ll be the prettiest at the wedding!” Christina forced a grin.
Grandma fussed, digging into her purse:
“Here, get the dye. Don’t argue!”
“Gran, I can—”
“You’ve got enough expenses, take it. Oh! I’ve a gift—been waiting for the right moment…”
From the wardrobe, she pulled a pink bag. Inside was a hand-knitted ivory shawl. Old-fashioned, but so full of warmth that Christina decided then—she’d wear it on her wedding day.
“Thank you! It’s beautiful!”
“Margaret said you’d never wear it… Nothing’s good enough for her. Made her a dress once—she ruined it with ink! Spiteful thing…”
Christina lied gently:
“Mum said it was an accident…”
Over tea, chatter, and dyeing Grandma’s hair, time flew. The doorbell rang—William and his mate Christopher brought a kitten. Ginger, just like Grandma’s old tomcat, Whiskers, who’d passed three years prior.
“Chris, love, I’m dying… What’ll I do with a kitten?”
“Nobody’s tossing anyone out, Gran! Now you can’t die,” William winked.
Christina and Christopher popped to the shop for milk and biscuits. He stayed quiet until murmuring:
“Feel awful for Grandma. Hope she pulls through.”
“Coming to the wedding?”
“Course…” He said nothing more, but Christina caught something in his gaze she didn’t dare decipher.
The evening was lovely. Grandma laughed, William praised her new hair, and Christopher admired the shawl. Only Mum was on shift. Christina checked her phone—dozens of messages from Adrian. She’d forgotten today was dinner with his parents…
“Where the hell were you?!” Adrian roared. “Mum was worried sick!”
“At Gran’s. She has cancer…”
“She’s had her time. We’re planning a wedding!”
William drove her home. Christopher stayed with Grandma. Adrian erupted—calling the shawl a “rag” and forbidding her to wear it.
“I’m wearing this,” Christina said. “It’s from Gran.”
“Are you taking the piss?”
Arguments raged until the wedding. Then, the night before, Grandma was hospitalized. Christina begged to postpone—Adrian exploded:
“Money’s spent! Everything’s booked! Guests are here! Let the old bird get treatment.”
On the day, she wore the shawl anyway.
“Take that napkin off!” Adrian snapped.
“It’s my wedding!” Christina clenched her fists.
“I’m your husband, you’ll do as I say!”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
Her bridesmaids gasped. Parents tried to mediate. But Christina knew—she wouldn’t marry him. Wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t suffer…
“I’m going to Gran. Take me.”
“You’ve lost it!” Adrian grabbed her arm.
“Don’t you dare touch her!”
Christopher’s voice. His face twisted with fury.
“My wife, my business!”
“No. She’s not!” William punched Adrian square in the jaw. “Let’s go to Gran’s!”
Screams, tears, the mother-in-law’s curses—chaos. But Christina followed her brother. And Christopher, who fell in step beside her, past the useless, fluttering ribbons and balloons.
