So, guess what happened—I became good mates with my ex-son-in-law, but my daughter found out and absolutely lost it.
“So you’ve got yourself a new son-in-law now, Mum? How could you do this to me?” Helen was practically shouting, her voice shaking with anger. “I don’t want to see you at his place ever again! Just think about me for once!”
Helen’s forty now, and honestly, she was fuming. She divorced Paul years ago, then remarried someone else three years back. They’d been together for twelve years and had a daughter, Sophie, who’s ten now. Recently, Helen caught her mum, Margaret, visiting Paul in the little town of Pinewood. She’d just dropped Sophie off for the weekend and was gobsmacked to see her mum there—especially since Margaret had been popping by more often lately. Helen felt completely betrayed, and well, all hell broke loose.
Margaret always wished she’d had a son, but life only gave her Helen. When Helen first brought Paul home, her parents weren’t thrilled. A mechanic with no place of his own? Not exactly what they’d hoped for. Margaret and her husband were frosty with him at first, but over time—especially after her husband passed—she saw the kindness in Paul. He became her rock, always there to help without a second thought.
“Sorry, Margaret,” Paul said not long after the wedding. “I lost my own mum, but I just can’t call you ‘Mum.’”
Margaret didn’t push it. She was just glad he treated her with respect. But as years passed, she really came to appreciate him—his kindness, his skills. When Helen was pregnant with Sophie and Margaret ended up in hospital for kidney surgery, Paul was running between the ward and home, bringing food, comforting her, holding everything together. After she was discharged, he handled everything—wouldn’t let her or Helen lift a finger. And when Sophie was born? He was over the moon, the perfect dad and all-round support.
But Helen changed. She got a promotion, mixed with new crowds, and suddenly, she was embarrassed by Paul. She’d nitpick his clothes, his accent, the fact he didn’t have a degree. “He can’t even talk about books properly!” she’d moan to her mum, comparing Paul to her posh colleagues. Margaret tried to stick up for him: “You chose him, Helen. Your dad didn’t like him either, but you insisted. What’s the issue now?”
It broke her heart watching their marriage fall apart. Paul earned more than most university lecturers, fixed everything around the house, was a brilliant dad—but Helen just didn’t see it. One day, Margaret snapped: “Paul’s got a heart of gold and hands to match! Not every professor does half as much for their family!”
But Helen just brushed her off. She’d already met Anthony, her new bloke, and kept comparing him to Paul—always finding flaws. Soon enough, she filed for divorce. Paul just took it quietly, no shouting, no insults. He just walked into the kitchen, and Margaret saw his shoulders shaking. It wrecked him, but he’d seen it coming—things had been cold for ages.
Paul let Helen keep the two-bed flat they’d bought together, while he moved back to an old bedsit he used to rent out. He kept up with child support, bought Sophie presents, went to parents’ evenings, had her every other weekend. Helen would drop her off, and things were fine—until Margaret started visiting Paul more.
A year ago, Paul came to her first: “Sorry I’ve not been round. If you need anything fixing or fetching, just say. And you’re always welcome at mine.”
That’s how it started. Paul fixed leaky taps, brought her shopping, and Margaret would turn up with homemade pies, chatting away. She, Sophie, and Paul would go on walks together, and Margaret realised—he felt like a son to her. Meanwhile, Helen had drifted off after remarrying, barely calling. Margaret just held onto the warmth Paul gave her.
But then Helen found out and blew her top: “What, are you adopting him now? How can you even stand being around him when I’ve moved on?”
It hurt, but Margaret didn’t back down. Paul was family—he’d been there in her darkest days. She didn’t see anything wrong in staying close, but Helen took it as a betrayal. Now, they barely speak, and Margaret’s torn—love for her daughter, love for the man who’s been like a son.
She’s decided not to give in. Paul’s part of her life, someone who’s proved his loyalty time and again. Helen can be furious, but Margaret won’t turn her back on someone who’s been family. She just hopes one day Helen sees—a good heart matters more than old grudges. So, what do you think—is she right to stay close to her ex-son-in-law, or does Helen have a right to be angry?
