**Friday, 12th April**
Veronica paced her small flat in Manchester, clutching her phone as another overdue loan payment notification flashed on the screen. Her chest tightened with dread—how would she feed her family when her daughter and son-in-law had become such a burden? It all started when her eldest, 19-year-old Emily, announced she was expecting a baby and getting married.
Veronica had once confided in her colleague, Margaret, a wise and kind woman raising two daughters alone: Emily, now 19, and 10-year-old Lucy. Until recently, Margaret never complained—Emily studied diligently at university, Lucy excelled in school, and both were well-behaved. Margaret took pride in them despite the hardships of single motherhood.
But in her second year, Emily met her first love: a bloke named Oliver. He wasn’t from Manchester, but after meeting him, Margaret approved—he seemed decent, sincere, not some layabout. Soon, the couple decided to move in together. To save on rent, they squeezed into Margaret’s cramped three-bedroom house. She objected—Emily was too young, barely started life—but there was no reasoning with them.
Then came the bombshell: Emily confessed she was pregnant. Margaret’s heart sank. Her daughter, barely an adult, was already becoming a mother. Oliver didn’t work—he was a full-time student like Emily, with no plans to switch to part-time studies. Yet they insisted on a lavish wedding, as if stars of some Hollywood romance. They booked one of Manchester’s priciest venues, invited half the city, and Emily demanded a designer dress fit for a runway. Margaret protested, explaining she couldn’t afford it, but Emily clutched her stomach and wept: *”Mum, how can you begrudge your own grandchild?”*
Gritting her teeth, Margaret paid for it all—draining her savings, meant for emergencies, and even taking out another loan. She hoped the newlyweds would grow up afterward, 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 second-hand car for the wedding, so the couple buzzed around town like tourists, fuel paid for by his family. But groceries, bills, clothes? All fell to Margaret. The pair didn’t even know the price of a loaf of bread. When Margaret mentioned bills, Emily rolled her eyes: *”Mum, we’re studying—what money?”*
Emily spared no expense. She thrust a catalogue at Margaret, pointing at the trendiest (and priciest) pram and cot. On her modest salary, Margaret gasped. *”Emily, I can’t afford this! I’ve got your student loans, Lucy to raise—”*
*”Seriously?”* Emily snapped. *”You’re going to be a grandmother, and you’re pinching pennies?”*
Margaret’s blood boiled. They chose to have a child, yet expected her to fund it? She worked herself ragged while they lived in a fantasy. One evening, she returned late from work—reprimanded for delay after stopping to buy groceries—to find Emily and Oliver laughing over a magazine, picking out a cot costing half her wages. Lucy sat doodling quietly, while dirty dishes piled high in the kitchen.
*”Am I your maid now?”* Margaret barked, slamming the bags down.
*”Mum, relax!”* Emily scoffed. *”We’re busy—we’re having a baby!”*
*”You’re having a baby, yet I pay for everything?”* Margaret’s voice shook. *”Enough. Get jobs, or get out.”*
Emily burst into tears, Oliver paled, but Margaret stood firm. She gave them a month to find work. *”Fail, and you’ll live with Oliver’s parents. Let them foot your bills.”*
They pleaded, but Margaret refused to bend. She loved her daughter, but boundaries had to be set—or they’d ruin her. One night, Lucy hugged her and whispered, *”Mum, I’d never do this to you.”*
Margaret smiled through tears. For Lucy, she’d fight on. As for Emily and Oliver? Reality awaited them—and Margaret wouldn’t be their lifeline anymore.
**Lesson learned: Love shouldn’t come at the cost of your own survival. Sometimes, the kindest thing is to say no.**
