**Knock at the Door: A Mother-in-Law in Tears and a Drama Unfolds**
There was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood my mother-in-law, soaked to the bone, her eyes puffy from cryingbecause, as it turned out, the mistress had taken every last penny.
Fifteen years ago, Victor and I got married. Back then, his mother made it painfully clear wed never be friends. I accepted it. We built our life together, but children took their timeten years of waiting, hoping, praying. Then, at last, we were blessed: first came Peter, then Eleanor.
Life wasnt unkind. Victor climbed the corporate ladder, landing a directors role at a big firm. I threw myself into motherhood, taking maternity leave and embracing family life. My own mum was miles away in another city, so no help there. And my mother-in-law? Well, in fifteen years, her attitude toward me hadnt budged an inch. To her, I was always the “gold-digger,” the clever one whod stolen her son. In her dreamworld, Victor shouldve married the “right sort of girl”the one shed handpicked. But Victor chose me.
We carried on, raising our kids, and I ignored her frosty glares. Until the day everything fell apart.
I remember every detail. Wed just got back from a walk, the kids were kicking off their shoes in the hall, and Id put the kettle on. Thats when I spotted a note on the side table. Just seeing it sent a chill down my spine. The house felt eerily empty. Victors things were gone.
On the paper, in his scrawled handwriting, hed written:
*”Forgive me. It happenedI fell for someone else. Dont look for me. Youre strong; youll manage. This is best for everyone.”*
His phone was switched off. No call, no text. Hed vanished. Left me alonewith two little ones clinging to me.
I didnt know where he was or who the “other woman” was. Desperate, I called his mother, hoping for answers, maybe even comfort. Instead, what I got was:
“Its all your fault.” Her voice dripped with satisfaction. “I always knew youd end up like this. You shouldve seen it coming.”
I was speechless. What had I done? Why did they hate me so much? But there was no time for blameI had the kids to think of and barely any money. Victor hadnt left a penny.
I couldnt workno one to mind the children. Then I remembered an old gig, proofreading university essays. Thats how we scraped by. Every day was a battle. Six months passednot a peep from Victor.
One autumn night, as I tucked the kids in, there was an insistent knock at the door. Who on earth would visit at this hour? Neighbours?
I opened itand nearly fell backwards.
There she was. My mother-in-law. A mess, drenched, face streaked with tears.
“Can I come in?” she whispered, and without thinking, I stepped aside.
We sat in the kitchen. Between sobs, she spilled it all. Victors “great love” was a con artist. Shed fleeced him dry, saddled him with debt, and vanished with anything of value.
Victor was ruined. The mistresss dream home? A lie. Their future? A fantasy. Even my mother-in-law had lost everythingshed remortgaged her flat for him, and now the bank was threatening to evict her.
“Weve got nothing left,” she wailed. “Help me please Ive nowhere to go.”
She looked at me like a beaten dog, begging to stay, even for a few days.
My fists clenched. My head throbbed with questions. I remembered every barbed comment, every sneer, every year Id felt like an outsider in my own family. And now she wanted my help?
Part of me wanted to throw it back in her face. To say, *”Off you popfigure it out yourself!”* But another partthe one that still believed in love, in kindness, in my childrenwouldnt let me be that cruel.
I stayed silent. My eyes burned.
What to choose? Revenge or mercy?
While I decided, I got up, made tea, and slid a cup across the table.
Because sometimes, being human means choosing not with your heart, but with your conscience.
