**Diary Entry**
I couldn’t settle. Little Lily had fallen asleep in my arms, yet I still lingered by the window, staring into the courtyard. It had been an hour since I last moved.
A few hours ago, my beloved husband, James, came home from work. I’d been in the kitchen, but he never joined me. When I finally stepped out, I found him packing his things.
“Where are you going?” I asked, bewildered.
“I’m leaving. Leaving you for the woman I love.”
“James, this isn’t funny. Did something happen at work? Are you going on a business trip?”
“Why won’t you listen? I’m sick of you. All you think about is Lily—you don’t even see me. You don’t take care of yourself anymore.”
“Don’t shout, you’ll wake her.”
“See? There you go again—only ever thinking of her. Your husband is walking out, and you—”
“A real man wouldn’t abandon his wife and child,” I whispered before retreating to Lily’s side.
I knew his temper. If I pressed further, it would only erupt into a row. My eyes burned with tears, but I wouldn’t let him see them. I lifted Lily from her cot and carried her to the kitchen—somewhere he wouldn’t follow, nothing of his was left in there.
Through the window, I watched him get into his car and drive away without so much as a glance back. But I couldn’t look away. Maybe I hoped he’d turn the corner again, that he’d come back laughing, calling it a stupid joke. But the minutes passed, and nothing changed.
Sleep didn’t come that night. There was no one to call, no one to share my grief with. Mum had stopped needing me years ago—she’d been thrilled when I married James, then promptly forgot about me. To her, only my younger brother existed. I had friends, but they were other mums like me, probably fast asleep. What could they do, anyway?
By dawn, exhaustion claimed me. I tried ringing James, but he hung up and sent a text: *Don’t contact me again.*
When Lily fussed, I went to her. No time to waste crying. He was gone—so be it. I had my daughter, and I’d focus on her. But the numbers in my wallet and bank made my stomach twist. Even if the landlady gave me five more days, waiting for benefits to come through, it wouldn’t be enough. And we still had to eat. Remote work might’ve helped, but James had taken his laptop.
Two weeks of rent remained. I had to think faster.
But after calling every acquaintance, one truth settled in: no one would hire a single mother. Even mopping floors meant finding someone to watch Lily for hours—someone I didn’t have. Moving somewhere cheaper wouldn’t help; we were already in the cheapest flat. The only choice left was going back to Mum’s. But I’d married late, while my brother had settled down early. He, his wife, and their twins already crammed into her two-bedroom house. Add Lily and me? Impossible.
I told the landlady I’d leave when the rent ran out. Shared housing was an option, but the places I’d seen? Worse than a nightmare. I begged James for help—just for Lily’s sake—but he ignored me. Blocked my messages, probably.
Five days left. I packed slowly, needing something to do. Then, a knock.
Margaret stood at the door—my mother-in-law.
*More trouble?* I thought, letting her in.
We’d never gotten along—all polite smiles with bitterness underneath. From our first meeting, she’d made it clear she didn’t approve of me. Like so many mothers, she believed her son could’ve done better. That was why I’d insisted we live separately.
Every visit was the same: *”Emily, do you ever dust in here?”* She’d refuse my cooking, muttering *”Only pigs eat this.”* When Lily was born, she’d sneered, *”She’s not our blood—James should get a paternity test.”* Only at six months did she soften, finally seeing James in Lily’s face.
He’d pleaded with me to be patient. *”Mum raised me alone—she’s just protective.”* I’d have welcomed her help, but I’d never ask.
And now she stood in my hallway, after James had left. Here to gloat, surely. But I was past caring.
“Pack your things. Quickly,” she said. “You and Lily don’t belong here.”
“Margaret, I—I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand? You’re coming home with me.”
“With you?”
“Where else? That hovel your mother calls a house, with her pack of children?”
“You… know?”
“Of course I know. That good-for-nothing son of mine told me today. I’ve a three-bedroom house. There’s room enough.”
I had no choice. *In for a penny, in for a pound.*
Fear prickled when we arrived. Then she showed me our room. After settling Lily down, I hesitantly entered the kitchen.
“Emily,” she said, “I know we’ve never been close. But I hope you’ll try to forgive me.”
“You only wanted what was best for him.”
“Best? Don’t flatter me,” she cut in. “I was selfish. Today, that boy called and confessed everything. Forgive me for raising such a son—I don’t know where I went wrong. His father left us when he was three months old. He knew the struggle… and still repeated that coward’s mistake. Stay as long as you need.”
I couldn’t believe she’d side with me. Words failed me—only silent tears fell.
“None of that,” she scolded.
“It’s gratitude,” I managed.
“Save that too. Consider it my penance. We’ll manage. Roof over our heads. Once you find work, I’ll mind Lily.”
From that day, we were inseparable. Oh, her temper flared sometimes, but she’d check herself. Counsel, not command.
Today, Lily turned one. Balloons decorated the room, and an apple pie sat proudly on the table.
“Emily, look—her first steps!” Margaret beamed as Lily toddled toward the balloons before plopping down, declaring herself done.
Then—a knock.
Margaret answered. I never expected to see James again, let alone with some woman in tow.
“Hi, Mum,” he said casually, stepping inside.
“Well, this is a surprise. Five months of silence—what brings you?”
“Can’t I just visit?”
“Not without reason. Out with it.”
“Mum, rents are ridiculous. Angelica and I thought we’d stay here awhile.”
“Angelica? And who’s this?”
“Mum, come on—”
“My house is full. I’ve lodgers.”
“Since when? You shacking up with someone?”
“Mind your tongue. If I were, it’s none of your business.”
He barged past her—and froze.
There we were: me, Lily, the birthday spread.
“Son, you’re not welcome. We’re busy.”
“What’s *she* doing here?”
“*She* is still your wife. Though by this time tomorrow—since you couldn’t be bothered to show for court—you won’t be. Today’s your daughter’s first birthday. But you forgot, didn’t you?”
“I thought we were divorced already. And the kid—how do I even know she’s mine?”
“Test her, then. Waste your money. But until then, *get out.*”
“Mum, if I walk out now, it’s for good.”
She pointed at the door.
Later, after Lily slept, I found her in the kitchen.
“Margaret… are you alright? Should I leave? He’s still your son.”
“Emily, yes—he’s my blood. But no man treats his child like that. Women come and go… but children? Even if you part, you support them. He *knew* what we went through. No. I won’t forgive him till he understands.”
**Four Years Later**
“Emily, how long will you hide this man from me?”
I flushed. I hadn’t realized she’d guessed.
“Oh, stop blushing. Bring him round. Let’s meet.”
“You’re sure?”
“Long as he’s good to you and Lily, I’m happy. Now, arrange it.”
She attended my wedding to Daniel—a kind, responsible man who adored us both.
“Don’t think I’ll stop helping with Lily,” she warned that day.
“Mum, please. You know how much she loves you.”
When our son was born, Margaret declared him her grandson too. No one argued.
James married his Angelica. They moved away—Margaret only hears of him through distant relatives. Yes, he hurt her. But he’s still her son. She’ll watch over him from afarAnd as I watched Lily and her little brother play in the garden, I finally understood—sometimes, the family you choose is stronger than the one you’re born into, and love, in the end, always finds its way.
