Madeleine's mother was always the quiet one. The seventh of ten children, she was often overlooked, blending into the background of a house that constantly seemed to be on the brink of chaos. Her mother was a woman who tried her best, but with ten mouths to feed and so many needs to meet, there was little time for the kind of warmth and nurturing that Madeleine's mother—still a girl in so many ways—craved. Her father was a government worker, a man who, though not unkind, was distant and consumed with his own responsibilities. The family was a patchwork of different personalities, each sibling carving out their own space in a house that had no room for softness.
Her mother, though deeply loving, was also ignorant in ways that made it hard for her children to grow up with the care they deserved. She was overwhelmed, often clueless about how to manage a household so large, and her attempts at maintaining order felt like a string of small failures, each one adding up over the years. She was a woman full of dreams—dreams of a life that was easier, more beautiful, more full of joy—but those dreams were tucked away like secret treasures she could never share, never fully experience.
She never had the opportunity to develop into the woman she might have become. At the age of seventeen, just a year away from graduating, she dropped out of school. It wasn't a rebellious choice, nor a choice made out of any grand ideology. It was simply carelessness, a lack of direction, a slip of attention that led to an opportunity lost. Her decision was one that, over the years, she would reflect on with regret. But in that moment, as a young girl trying to survive in a house full of noise and need, there was no time to think about consequences. There was only the immediate, the urgent, and the overwhelming need to escape.
The escape, however, did not come in the form of adventure or self-discovery. Instead, it came in the form of an arranged marriage—a union that had less to do with love and more to do with practicality, duty, and external influence.
It was Madeleine's grandmother who played the pivotal role in this story. She was the kind of woman who saw what needed to be done and did it, regardless of the messy emotions involved. When Madeleine's father found himself in need of a place to stay, he was taken in by her grandmother. He was a young man at the time, ambitious and brash, with a kind of confidence that came not from his own achievements but from the security of his upbringing. He was the second son of five, born into a privileged family where his mother, who adored him, gave him everything he ever wanted. His father, a well-respected principal of a local secondary school, was a man of integrity, but his role as an educator often kept him emotionally distant, focused on the rigid demands of his career.
While his father was a good man, a man who believed in doing things the right way, his mother indulged him in every way possible. He was spoiled in a way that only a mother's deep affection could spoil a child. She would support every venture, every dream, and every whim, making sure he never had to face the consequences of his actions. Where his father set expectations, his mother softened them, allowing him to grow into a man who believed the world owed him something. He was charming, confident, and, at times, malicious in his approach to getting what he wanted. His cleverness and charm made him popular in the circles he moved in, especially among women, whom he loved to impress.
But for all his worldly success and charm, there was a part of him that lacked substance—a lack of understanding of the struggles that people, especially women, faced in the real world. He was the kind of man who talked a lot, always filling the air with stories and jokes, yet never revealing much of his true self.
It was during his stay with Madeleine's grandmother that he first laid eyes on her mother. She was quiet, shy, and, to him, an enigma. Her innocence and vulnerability appealed to him in a way that he couldn't quite explain. She had a softness about her, a quietness that made her seem otherworldly. She was different from the other women he knew—more subdued, more grounded. But she was also naïve, and that innocence was something that seemed to draw him in.
Madeleine's mother, however, didn't understand what drew him to her. She had never known true affection, never felt the warmth of someone looking at her with love. Her understanding of relationships was limited to what she had seen in her own home: a kind of coldness, a distance that was always present, even if unspoken. When her grandmother suggested the match, she did not argue. She saw marriage as her only escape, her chance to leave behind the chaos of her childhood and find something stable, something solid. It wasn't a love story, not by any stretch of the imagination. It was a union borne out of necessity.
The marriage was arranged quickly, with little fanfare. There were no grand gestures, no passionate confessions of love. Just two people, each with their own reasons for wanting the union, coming together under the quiet watch of a grandmother who believed in duty over romance. Madeleine's mother may have hoped for a soft life—a life of comfort, where she could retreat into the safety of domesticity and leave the rest of the world behind. But what she found instead was a relationship based on expectations, both from her grandmother and from the social structures around her.
Her father, though charming and confident, did not bring her the kind of love she had imagined in her secret daydreams. Instead, he brought her a life filled with expectations—expectations he placed on her and that she, in turn, placed on herself. He was not a man who believed in emotional depth or connection; he was a man who believed in getting things done, in achieving success. His love for her was a kind of obligation, one that came with the promise of stability but lacked the fire of passion.
In the years that followed, their relationship was one of duty rather than desire. Madeleine's mother grew accustomed to the rhythms of their life together, even as she longed for something more. She loved him in her own way, but she never truly felt the depth of love she had once dreamed of. It was a quiet, resigned love—one shaped by years of being content with what she had, even if it wasn't what she had hoped for. And for her father, the relationship was functional. She took care of the home, and he continued his social escapades, his talkative charm winning him favor wherever he went.
Though they were together, it was hard to tell if they were ever truly in love. There was affection, perhaps, but it was wrapped up in the routine of life, in the roles they played, in the things they were expected to do. And as Madeleine grew up, she would come to understand that love—true, unyielding love—wasn't something that could be built on expectation alone. It had to be something more.
As the years passed, the marriage between Madeleine's parents settled into a routine. It was neither extraordinary nor filled with any great passion, but rather, it existed in a quiet, almost mechanical way. Madeleine's mother, content in her cautious way, never questioned the path she had taken. She found solace in her small, domestic world. Though she loved her children deeply, she could never shake the feeling of being trapped in a life she hadn't fully chosen for herself. Still, there was comfort in the predictability of it all—no highs too exhilarating, no lows too devastating. It was a life marked by quiet endurance.
Her father, on the other hand, continued to be a man of ambition. He had long ago traded the passion of youth for the calculating mindset of a man who understood how to work the systems around him. While his early charms were used to win his wife, as the years wore on, he relied more on manipulation and cunning to maintain his position. He had always been a talker, and over the years, his smooth words helped him weave a web of influence, even if the relationships around him were shallow. With his charming smile and easygoing manner, he could win over anyone, but that didn't necessarily translate into genuine affection or respect. He never truly gave himself to those around him—not in the way a person gives their heart in love—but instead gave them just enough to keep them interested, enough to maintain the image of a devoted husband, In many ways, their roles were clearly defined, each person fulfilling expectations set by family and society. Madeleine's mother took care of the home, providing the stability and quiet she never had growing up, while her father maintained his social position and kept the external world at bay, constantly maneuvering to secure his place in it.