**An Eye for an Eye: Reckoning for Indifference**
In a quiet town along the River Thames, Margaret Whitmore had spent years striving to be the perfect mother and mother-in-law. She sacrificed her time, energy, and money for the happiness of her son and his wife. But their indifference and ingratitude shattered her heart. When her daughter-in-law, desperate, begged for help, Margaret—for the first time—refused, deciding it was time to repay them in kind. Now, she wonders: Is her retribution just, or is it the beginning of the end for their family ties?
The phone rang recently—Olivia, her daughter-in-law, voice trembling with weakness. *”Margaret, please, come! I’ve got a terrible fever, my throat’s raw. I feel awful! Can you look after Sophie, just for a bit?”* Sitting in her flat in the city, Margaret answered coolly, *”Sorry, Olivia. I’m at the cottage in the countryside. I’m not coming back.”* She hung up, feeling the bitter satisfaction of resentment boiling inside.
When she told her neighbour, Evelyn, the woman gasped. *”Margaret, what are you playing at? You’re not in the countryside—you’re right here! Olivia’s really struggling with the baby—she’s only three months old! How could you?”* Margaret frowned. *”My granddaughter is three months, yes. But Olivia deserves this. Five years I tried to be her friend. I gave them thousands for the wedding, helped with renovations, furnished their flat. Did they ever say thank you? No! All they do is splash out on designer clothes, new phones, luxury holidays!”*
Her voice wavered with pain. *”When Olivia was pregnant, I took her to the best specialists, hand-delivered her test results, cooked meals for her in hospital. Before they came home, I scrubbed their flat spotless. And what? Not a word of gratitude! They acted like it was my duty.”* Evelyn sighed. *”Margaret, kids are like that—they assume parents should help.”* But Margaret shook her head. *”Should? When I asked for help, they turned away!”*
Once, just once, Margaret had asked her son, William, for a favour. Returning from visiting her sister in Manchester, laden with heavy bags, she’d asked, *”William, meet me at the station, won’t you?”* He agreed—but an hour later, Olivia called. *”Margaret, just take a cab. William would have to leave work early, and it’s awkward. The train’s too early—he’d be exhausted.”* Margaret choked on the injustice. *”They found time when Olivia and the baby needed a hospital run! But not for me?”* she fumed to Evelyn.
*”Olivia’s right—you can’t just skip work,”* Evelyn soothed. *”William’s the breadwinner; he can’t take risks.”* But Margaret scoffed. *”He could’ve! I never ask for anything. They didn’t even call to check if I got home! The bags were so heavy I couldn’t carry them alone. A stranger—another passenger—helped me off the train, and then I had to pay a porter. A cabbie, a complete stranger, hauled them to my door! But my own son and his wife abandoned me.”* Tears welled, but her voice hardened. *”That’s when I decided—no more. No more help.”*
Evelyn shook her head. *”But Margaret, the baby’s done nothing wrong.”* Margaret went quiet, guilt pricking at her—but resentment ran deeper. *”They’ve grown entitled, Evelyn. I’m to be at their beck and call, while they give nothing back? That’s not right. Let them see how it feels to be ignored.”* She remembered how proud she’d been of William, how she’d dreamed of a close-knit family. But every kindness was met with coldness, every sacrifice taken for granted. Now, she’d decided: if they didn’t value her, neither would she.
Night after night, Margaret lay awake, torn between anger and grief. She pictured tiny Sophie crying in her cot, Olivia feverish and helpless. Her heart ached—but the memory of William and Olivia’s betrayal drowned out pity. *”They chose this,”* she whispered into the dark, tears sliding down her cheeks. She knew her refusal might sever her ties to them forever, but it was too late to turn back. *”Justice must be done,”* she told herself—though deep down, she feared that justice might leave her utterly alone.
Gazing out at the snowy streets, Margaret wondered: *Had she done the right thing?* Her heart split between teaching them a lesson and the terror of losing them completely. She remembered the joy she’d felt when Sophie was born, the dreams of being the doting grandmother. But their indifference had killed that joy. Now, she waited—hoping they’d reach out first. But the phone stayed silent. *”Would you agree with me?”* she asked herself. And no answer came.
