“You’re never happy with anything!” I snapped at my mother-in-law. The next day, she got her revenge in the most underhanded way possible.
My name is Oliver. These days, I live in Manchester, married for the second time, with a wonderful family and a young son. But the scar from my first marriage still stings—because that’s where my daughter stayed. Stayed, and not by my choice.
I met my first wife, Emily, in our second year at university. We grew close quickly, dated for a few months. Then I started to realise my feelings were fading—right about the time Emily announced she was pregnant. We were far too young, and I could sense everything spiralling out of control. But I didn’t run from responsibility. We got married. Her parents gave us a one-bedroom flat as a wedding gift; mine paid for a holiday to Spain.
A few months later, our daughter, Lily, was born. I loved her instantly. But if I’m honest, there was no harmony in our home. The biggest problem? My mother-in-law, Margaret. She lived in the next building over and practically moved into our flat. Always criticising—how I held the baby, how I spoke to my wife, how little I earned. I bit my tongue. For ages. Tried to keep the peace for Emily and Lily’s sake.
One day, I came home exhausted from work to yet another lecture from Margaret. And that’s when I lost it:
*”For heaven’s sake! Why are you never happy with anything? Have you ever smiled in your life? Said one kind word?”*
She didn’t reply. Just turned and left. I thought—*finally*. Maybe she’d reflect. But I had no idea the nightmare waiting for me the next day.
I came home after work—and my key didn’t fit the lock. My two suitcases were sitting beside the door. It took me a second to process. I banged, rang, shouted. From behind the door, Margaret answered:
*”Take your things and clear off. You won’t be seeing your wife or daughter again.”*
I thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Emily didn’t even come to the door. A week later, she filed for divorce. No discussion. No chance to explain. I was left with nothing—no family, no answers, no Lily.
Years passed. I remarried. My second wife, Charlotte, gave me a son. I’m happy—I love them, cherish every moment. But my heart still aches for Lily. I pay child support without fail every month. Emily takes the money but won’t let me see my daughter. No photos, no calls, no visits.
Why? I don’t know. I didn’t cheat. Didn’t raise a hand. I just cracked and told her mother the truth.
And for that—I was erased from my own child’s life.
