Betty followed obediently. Mother never 'noticed' the bruises.
Dora went the other way. Successful, single, big house, flash cars, no bruises.
Forty years on, Bob is dead, and Betty’s kids dote on her. She’s free.
Dora’s goldfish don’t dote; she likes that.
“You happy now, Bets?” asked Dora.
Betty shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve got my kids. You?”
“Yeah, no ties, no hassles.”
They don’t understand each other but understood each knew no other way to be.