**Thursday, 5th October**
“You’ve got a month to leave my house!” announced my mother-in-law.
Everything in mine and James’s life had been going smoothly—two years together, then the decision to marry. I’d always got on well with my mother-in-law, Margaret. She struck me as kind and sensible, someone whose advice I valued and whose opinion I respected. I thought myself incredibly lucky—she never interfered, never criticised, and her warmth towards me was a comfort.
Margaret paid for the entire wedding. My parents, sadly, couldn’t stretch their finances far, so they only contributed modestly. The day was perfect, and I was certain a happy married life awaited us. But barely a day after the wedding, while we were still basking in the afterglow, Margaret called us in for a serious talk. Her words hit like a bolt from the blue.
“Children, I’ve done my duty,” she began, her gaze firm and icy. “I raised James, gave him an education, helped him marry. Now you’re your own family, and I won’t apologise for this—you’ve got a month to move out of my house. It’s time you learned to stand on your own feet. Yes, it’ll be hard at first, but you’ll learn to budget, to manage. And I… I’ve earned the right to live for myself now.”
She paused, then drove the knife deeper:
“And don’t expect me to step in if grandchildren come along. I’ve given everything to my son, and I’ve no energy left for raising children. You’ll always be welcome here, but I’m a grandmother, not a babysitter. Don’t judge me too harshly—you’ll understand when you reach my age.”
I stood there, stunned. Inside, a storm raged—hurt, anger, confusion. How could she do this? Margaret would go on living comfortably in her spacious three-bedroom house in central Manchester, while James and I scraped by in a rented flat, counting every penny. And the worst part? James actually co-owns part of that house! Why should *we* leave? And as for grandchildren… Don’t most grandmothers dream of cuddling babies, spoiling them? But ours, it seemed, was the exception.
I waited for James to protest, to defend us—but instead, he just… agreed. Without a word of objection, he started scouring listings for rentals and side jobs to afford it. I was furious. My parents couldn’t help us, but why would Margaret, after years of seeming so caring, turn out so cold and selfish?
Every day, her words echoed in my head, cutting deeper. How could she shut us out so easily? Had all her kindness before the wedding just been an act? I felt betrayed, and the thought of starting from scratch in some stranger’s flat filled me with dread. James, though, was determined. He said this was our chance to prove we could handle life as a real family. But how could I think of the future when everything I’d relied on was crumbling around me?
