“Oh, you’re never happy with anything!” I snapped at my mother-in-law. The next day, she got her revenge in the most spiteful way possible.
My name’s James. Right now, I live in Manchester, married for the second time, with a lovely family and a little son. But the scar from my first marriage still aches—because my daughter’s still out there. Still gone, and not by my choice.
I met my first wife, Emily, in our second year at uni. We hit it off fast, dated for a few months. Then I started feeling things fade, but right then, Emily told me she was pregnant. We were way too young, and I knew—this wasn’t going to end well. But I didn’t run from responsibility. I married her. Her parents gave us a one-bed flat as a wedding gift; mine paid for a holiday by the seaside.
A few months later, our daughter, Sophie, was born. I loved her the moment I saw her. But honestly? There was no harmony at home. The biggest problem? My mother-in-law, Margaret. She lived in the next building over and practically moved into our flat. Always criticising everything—how I held the baby, how I spoke to my wife, how much I earned. I bit my tongue. For ages. Tried to keep it together for Emily and Sophie.
Then one day, I came home knackered from work, and there she was—another lecture from Margaret. And that’s when I lost it:
“Enough! Why are you never happy with anything? Why can’t you just once smile or say something kind?”
She didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked out. I thought, finally—maybe she’ll think twice. But I had no idea what nightmare was waiting for me the next day.
I came home the following evening—and my key didn’t work. Two suitcases of mine were sitting outside. It took me a second to process. I banged on the door, rang the bell, shouted. Then Margaret’s voice came through the door:
“Take your things and sod 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 out. A week later, she filed for divorce. No discussion. No chance to explain. I was left with nothing—no family, no answers, no Sophie.
Years passed. I married again. My second wife, Charlotte, gave me a son. I’m happy now, love them both, cherish every moment. But my heart still aches for Sophie. I pay child support every month without fail. Emily takes it but won’t let me see my daughter. No photos, no calls, no visits.
Why? No idea. I never cheated. Never laid a hand on her. I just snapped and told her mum the truth.
And for that—I was erased from my own child’s life.
