For the past couple of days, he had been reflecting on what Colleen had hurled at him about his mother. She hadn’t spoken to him since then. Well, actually she did. But it was only if she had been spoken to. As he stood to his feet, he admitted that it wasn’t the same. Colleen was behaving like a marionette, and he felt like the puppeteer pulling the strings. She moved and did everything he wanted, but it felt—practiced. Her heart wasn’t into it. He could tell. It wasn’t the same. Terence slapped his knee and sighed. Somewhere inside him, he accepted that what his wife said was true. His mother was meddling in his affairs. It had been that way all his life, but his eyes were just now being opened. Before Colleen, Terence had always followed and done everything Francine told him to do. She told him that he’d make a good architect, and he’d done it. She told him that he should be a minister, and he was almost there. The only thing he’d ever refused to listen to her about was Colleen.
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