Vera paced frantically around her small flat in Manchester, clutching her phone as yet another overdue payment notification lit up the screen. Her chest tightened with dread—how could she support her family when her daughter and son-in-law had become such a crushing burden? It all began when her eldest, 19-year-old Emily, announced she was expecting a baby and planning to marry.
Vera had once confided in her coworker, Margaret, a woman of quiet wisdom and warmth. Margaret had raised two girls alone: Emily, now 19, and 10-year-old Sophie. For years, Margaret never had reason to complain. Emily excelled at university, Sophie shone in school—both model children, well-behaved and bright. Margaret took pride in them, despite the strain of single motherhood.
Then, in her second year, Emily met *him*—her first love, Oliver. He wasn’t local, but after meeting him, Margaret approved. He seemed kind, genuine, nothing like a troublemaker. Soon, the young couple decided to move in together. To save on rent, they squeezed into Margaret’s already cramped three-bed terrace. She protested—Emily was only 19, she should finish her degree, find her footing—but there was no reasoning with them.
The flat was tiny, claustrophobic even before Oliver arrived. His presence only made it worse. Margaret swallowed her frustration—until Emily confessed the real reason for their haste: she was pregnant, and they wanted to marry. The floor seemed to drop from under Margaret. Her girl, barely grown, was about to become a mother.
Oliver didn’t work. He studied full-time, like Emily, and neither considered switching to part-time. Yet they demanded a lavish wedding, straight out of a rom-com. They booked one of Manchester’s priciest venues, invited half the city, and Emily insisted on a designer dress fit for a magazine spread. Margaret tried to object—she didn’t have that kind of money—but Emily clutched her stomach and sobbed, *”Mum, are you really being stingy with your own grandchild?”*
Gritting her teeth, Margaret paid. She drained her emergency savings and even took out another loan, praying the couple would wake up after the wedding—find jobs, stand on their own feet. But her hopes collapsed like a house of cards. Emily and Oliver stayed put, showing no interest in work.
Oliver’s parents gifted them a used car for the wedding. Now the pair cruised around town as if on holiday, fuel paid by his family, who knew their son was penniless. But groceries, bills, clothes? All fell to Margaret. The two didn’t even know the price of a loaf of bread. When Margaret tried to discuss expenses, Emily rolled her eyes. *”Mum, we’re students—what money?”*
Emily refused to compromise. She thrust a catalogue at Margaret, pointing at the trendiest—and most expensive—pram and crib. On her modest salary, Margaret could only gasp. *”Emily, I can’t afford this! I’ve got your tuition loan, Sophie to raise!”*
*”You’re serious?”* Emily snapped. *”The future grandma, nickel-and-diming her own grandchild?”*
Margaret felt fury boil inside. They chose to have a baby—why was *she* footing the bill? She worked herself ragged, yet money vanished like mist. Emily’s tuition loan loomed over her, Sophie needed care, and the young couple lived like royalty in a fairy tale.
One evening, Margaret snapped. She returned late from work—scolded again for delays after stopping to buy groceries—to find Emily and Oliver laughing over a designer baby magazine, selecting a cot that cost half her wages. Sophie sat curled in a corner, sketching quietly, while a mountain of dishes towered in the sink.
*”Am I supposed to clean up after you too?”* Margaret barked, slamming the bags down.
*”Mum, relax!”* Emily blinked. *”We’re busy planning for the baby!”*
*”You’re having a baby, but I’m paying for it?”* Margaret trembled with rage. *”Enough. Get jobs, or get out.”*
Emily burst into tears, Oliver paled, but Margaret stood firm. She gave them a month to find work—any work. *”Fail, and you’re moving in with Oliver’s parents. Let *them* foot the bill.”*
They pleaded, but Margaret ignored the tears now. She loved her daughter, but if she didn’t set boundaries, they’d ruin her. One night, Sophie hugged her tight and whispered, *”Mum, I’d never do this to you.”*
Margaret smiled through her tears. For Sophie, she’d fight. As for Emily and Oliver? Reality awaited them—and Margaret wouldn’t be their lifeline anymore.
