Daughter-in-Law Endured Her Mother-in-Law—Here’s Where That Led “Twins?!” gasped Irene Fletcher, barely masking her dismay. For years, Asya had known not to expect a drop of sincerity from her mother-in-law, who always thought Asya wasn’t good enough for her precious son, Ivan. Local friends, however, often joked it was Ivan who was lucky—Asya, thoughtful and well-educated, had a good job at a private health clinic by 23, her parents respected back in their small town. But to Irene, she was a nobody. Still, she forced a strained, “Congratulations! Double the happiness!”—with no intention whatsoever of actually sharing in the family’s joy, no matter how complicated Asya’s pregnancy or how many hospital stays she had. Even after the twins arrived, Irene never visited—offering excuses about infections and traditions, until it became glaringly clear she simply wanted nothing to do with them. Months later, only in public—and in front of a long-time friend—did Irene suddenly blossom into the world’s most doting grandmother, spinning tales of deep involvement while Asya stood in silence, watching the mask slip the moment the friend was gone. Years passed, and nothing changed. Not until misfortune struck and Irene broke her leg. Without hesitation, she announced, “I’ll move in with you!” The household turned upside down—Asya and Ivan camped in the kids’ room while Irene required endless help, becoming more demanding than a toddler. One morning, after yet another phone call from the next room to complain about the racket their preschool daughters made getting ready for nursery, Ivan finally snapped: “If you want peace, why don’t we just leave the girls with you?” That very day, Irene huffed out—cast still on—never to return. Still, Asya couldn’t shake the guilt. Every Friday, Asya would leave work early for a cozy afternoon with her daughters, reading stories and watching films—until an unexpected knock brought Irene to their door, grandson in tow. “Lena left him with me. I’ve errands to run. Watch him for a bit.” Hours passed; Irene didn’t come back. When Vanya learned the truth, he called his sister Lena, and the evening erupted when both confronted their mother. In the kitchen, shock turned to outrage when Lena pointed out their mother’s freshly styled hair and new manicure—priorities clear as day. Irene scoffed at Asya’s wish for small pleasures, firing back with: “What’s she going to do at a salon? She’s a nobody from backwater Broadhaven!” Silence, then suddenly—“Get out!” Ivan ushered his mother from their home, protecting his wife and finding, in that heartbreak, a new boundary. From then on, contact with Irene was brief. She rarely helped, mostly popping up online with proud posts about her grandchildren, playing the role for all her friends to see. As for Asya, it stung—but in time, she found comfort in the truth: sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can never be good enough for some people—and that’s not your fault.

Author Emily TaylorReading 10 minViews 2

Twins?! burst out Deborah Wilson.

She really tried to conceal her dismay, but didnt do a very good job. Holly knew full well shed never get an ounce of genuine warmth from her mother-in-law. Deborah had never been fond of Holly, always thinking she wasnt good enough for her precious Tom. Friends, however, would point out just the oppositethat it was Tom who was a bit ordinary for someone like Holly.

Holly was smart and truly lovely. By the age of twenty-three, shed finished a degree in economics and had a great job in one of the private clinics across London. Yes, she grew up in a small town, but her dad was the local plant manager and her mum lectured at the university there. So to say that Holly lacked in education or manners was flat-out unfair. But to Deborah, shed always be a simpleton from the sticks.

Deborah forced a little smile. Well, congratulations, I suppose. Double the joy, isnt it?

Not that she was planning to get involved in any of this double joy. Hollys pregnancy was rough from the startfirst threatened miscarriage, then the risk of premature labour. She was in and out of hospital all the time. If Tom came to visit almost every day, Deborah, who lived just down the road, didnt come by even once.

Even when the twins were born, Deborah didnt show up for the homecoming. No matter how Tom asked her, she avoided visiting for the first six weeks.

Its not right. What if I bring the little darlings a bug? Best to wait until theyre stronger before Granny comes around.

Holly ran into Deborah when the girls were three months old, just outside the local Tesco. Deborah put on her best fake smile and mumbled through gritted teeth, How are you and the girls, then?

Holly smiled back, genuinely. Oh, just out for a walk! The prams massive, but what can you do? Got to get them some fresh air!

Deborah nodded, already edging awayuntil she spotted an old friend approaching.

Debs! Hi there! Oh my goodness, are these your granddaughters?

Yes, Jean… My little treasures!

Holly remembered Jean Smith, and gave her a shy Hello.

Jean gushed, Twins! Holly, how on earth did you manage? Youre so petite!

Hollys our little hero, Deborah cut in.

Holly stared at her mother-in-law, baffled. Less than a minute ago, Deborah would have avoided the buggy like the plague, and now she was playing the loving granny for an audience.

Jean and Deborah blathered awayHolly only caught bits and bobs about how marvellous twins were, how well Holly was coping, and of course, how Deborah was always helping out. Holly just stood there mute, learning all sorts of facts about her own life shed never heard before. Finally, Jean remembered her errands.

Well, must dashneed to pop by the bank! Take care, you two!

Deborah waited till Jean disappeared, her blissful grin dissolving. She said a curt goodbye to Holly and walked off.

That evening, Holly told Tom about it. He just shrugged.

Holl, what do you expect? Thats just my mum. Shed never lift a finger but could tell tales for Englandlike she spent all night doing homework with me, but actually sat glued to EastEnders and never touched my schoolbook. Or she supposedly spent hours walking Lucy for her health; in truth, shed put on her makeup and send me to walk my sister. Dont let it get to you. Please.

Holly had heard all these stories beforehundreds of timesand yet still found herself gobsmacked when she was part of them.

***

The years rolled on, and Deborah never changed her tune with the kids or grandkids. Then disaster struck. Getting out of a cab one day, she misstepped and broke her leg. Thats when she had a bright idea.

Ill stay with you lot for a bit! she announced breezily to Holly and Tom.

Husband and wife exchanged a lookthey both knew where this was headingbut they couldnt say no.

And so, chaos descended. Tom and Holly had to move into the girls room, and Deborah took over their bedroom. She became a third child, demanding meals, help washing, constant tidying up, and endless shopping requests.

The twins were two and a half, and Holly was trying to get back to work, if only part time, so the girls started at nursery. Mornings were a battlegroundTom and Holly struggled with tearful, wriggling daughters who hated leaving their warm beds for the grown-up world.

One day, just as they were ready to leave, Toms phone rang.

Mum?! Youre calling from the next room… why?

I cant get up, my legs broken…

Mum, youve got a crutch

Pipe down, Tom! I can say what I need from right here, thanks!

Fine… go on then, Mum…

I cannot stand the racket you two make every morning. Banging about, slamming doors, those girls never stop yapping for a second! I cant get a wink of sleep!

Tom saw red. He stormed to the bedroom, burst in and yelled, If sleeps what you want, shall we just leave the kids with you, then?

Deborah fell silent, mortified. Before long, she moved back to her own place, cast and all. Tom wasnt bothered, but Holly couldnt shake her guiltshe never wanted Tom fighting with his mum, but really, what else could she do?

***

By Friday, Holly usually worked till midday, picked the girls up, treated them to goodies, and theyd all snuggle up for a film with the projector on. This Friday was no exceptionblankets and snacks everywherewhen the doorbell interrupted.

Holly opened the door to see Deborah clutching her grandson, Charlie, Lucys son.

Is everything alright, Deborah?

Lucys left him with me till this evening, but I really must run some errands. Could you watch him for an hour and a half, please?

Holly was taken aback. Charlie was about six months younger than the twins, but a sweet, quiet boy. She crouched down and smiled.

Charlie, do you want to stay and play?

He nodded shyly. When Holly looked up, Deborah was gone.

When should we expect you back? Holly called.

Two hours, tops! came the reply from the lift.

Not so much as a goodbye to Holly or Charlie.

***

Tom got home at seven, surprised to see his nephew tucking into fish fingers at their kitchen table.

Hey mate! Having fun? Wheres your mum?

Charlie smiled, Holly sighed. She didnt want to be the one who always caused family drama, but honestly, how do you stay quiet?

Your mum dropped him. Said shed be back in a couple of hours. That was… almost five hours ago.

Toms jaw slackened. Wheres Lucy?

Holly swallowed. I havent messaged her… Didnt want to drop your mum in it. Lucy trusted *her* with Charlie, after all.

Tom turned red. Holl, youre too nice. This is madness! Did my mum not say where she was off to?

Holly shook her head. Tom pulled out his phone and rang his sister, telling her Charlie was with them. Lucy promised to come straight round.

***

Half eight in the evening: the kids played in their room while Holly, Tom, and Lucy sat in the kitchen.

Look, are we actually waiting up for her? The kids need putting to bed…

Holl, one night wont kill them. This needs sorting.

No sooner had Tom finished than the bell rang. Holly went to answer.

Right, Ill fetch Charlie now! Deborah announced, all business.

Holly swallowed. Tom and Lucy appeared behind her at the door.

Mum, have you no shame?

How dare you speak to your mother like that!

Oh stop turning it back on us! I left Charlie with *you*! Not Holly. What are you playing at?

Deborah scoffed. Oh really, Lucy? What difference does it make? Hollys got two of her ownshes brilliant with kids. And I had things to do!

Tom stepped forward. Mum, what things? Just how much are you going to take advantage? Did you even *ask* Holly?

Oh, whats to ask, honestly!

Tom pressed on. Where *were* you, Mum?

Lucy spoke up, half laughing. She probably went to the salonshe had longer hair this morning. And her nails were red, now theyre pink. Bit obvious, Mum.

Deborah grew flustered, at a loss for words.

Do you not feel the slightest bit guilty? Tom pressed.

She just looked at them, stubborn and silent.

You hardly ever do anything for us, and the one time youre asked for help, you dump Charlie on my wife? Maybe she wants a trip to the salon! Maybe shed quite like a nice haircut!

At this, Deborah went bright red, puffed up like a bullfrog, and lashed out.

Oh, honestly, Tom! Whats she need a makeover for? Hollys always been a plain Jane from Middle-of-Nowhere. Shell never be anything else!

An awkward silence, then a sudden uproar: Get out!

Tom had her by the arm, ushered her out the front door and slammed it shut. He took a deep breath, and when he looked at Holly, she was crying. He and Lucy both tried to console her.

Holly was really hurt, but also realised that Deborah never truly valued anyone, not even her own children. It didnt exactly comfort Holly, but it reminded herits not her fault. You can be good as gold, but for some people, youll never be good enough.

After that, the family pretty much severed all ties with Deborah. Now and then, Tom and Lucy would do her a favour, but for the most part, she stayed out of their lives. Deborah grumbled for a long time about their disrespect, but in the end, her longing to keep the family together won out and she staged something of a truce. Still, she never lifted a finger to help with the grandchildren.

Once, when scrolling through her phone, Holly spotted Deborahs status: a collage of all her grandchildren, captioned Happy Grandparents Day! Heres to all of us who raised our grandkids! Holly just smirked sadly, and that evening Tom and Lucy had an absolute field day mocking their mum for her cheek. Holly felt a bit bad laughingbut honestly, how could you not?

“Button? Oh, I called her Holly. She was dashing about all morning here—clearly lost. Then she curled up at my feet, poor thing. So I popped her in the car to keep her from freezing,” the man smiled… “Tammy, how can you be so unlucky? I’ve always told you—Vince is no good for you!” her mother scolded. Tamara stood, head bowed. Though she was only thirty-seven, she felt like a schoolgirl who’d brought home a failing grade. She couldn’t help but feel bitterness and sorrow—for herself, her failed marriage, and her little daughter. Right before the most magical time of year, they’d been left without a father figure. “I’m leaving you,” Victor had mumbled that evening, carelessly. She barely understood what he meant at first. “Leaving for where?” Tammy asked automatically, as she set a steaming bowl of borscht in front of him. “Oh Tammy, you’re just not all there. You don’t get serious things! How have I even lived with you all these years?” Victor rolled his eyes melodramatically. Before she could clarify, he explained in detail: “I can’t do this anymore! And your yappy dog doesn’t help. The kid’s always ill, there’s no romance, Tammy. Look at yourself. What have you become?” he finished his tirade. Tamara tried to peer at her frightened reflection in the cupboard glass, but her vision blurred with tears. She remained standing alone in the kitchen. Victor hated tears. He eyed the borscht with longing, stepped away from the table, and began to pack his things… Little Button the dog, sensing trouble, worried at her owner’s feet, whining for comfort. “At least I’ll finally get to rest without that constant howling,” Victor declared, appearing in the doorway with his bag slung over his shoulder. “But Vince—what about Eva?” Tamara whispered, imagining how heartbroken their five-year-old would be, peacefully sleeping in her room. “Figure something out! You’re the mum,” he snapped, leaving the flat to Button’s mournful whines… Tamara spent the whole night in the kitchen, hugging Button, who gently licked her to console her. She seemed to understand something terrible had happened. Tamara didn’t know how to tell her mum for days. Mum kept ringing, asking how things were, but Tamara would claim all was fine and switch off her phone. “And have you found a new job yet? Because if that no-good Vince leaves, you’ll have nothing to live on,” her mum insisted on a visit. Tamara finally broke down and explained that employers weren’t replying, and Victor had left days ago. Her mother tutted and fussed—she’d always been wary of Victor’s intentions, since he’d never actually married her daughter after five years and a child. “What are you going to do now?” she asked, alarmed. “I’ll think of something… I’ll get a job as a nursery assistant where Eva goes,” Tamara replied bleakly. “You can’t survive on a nursery wage—not with a dog to feed, too,” her mother concluded. She wasn’t keen on animals, especially little fluffy Button, whom Tamara had rescued from the street. She was about to chide Tamara some more when she saw her daughter fighting back tears. “Come on now, don’t cry. I’ll help out. If need be, I’ll look after Eva,” her mother relented… A week passed. Tamara managed to find work and started going to the nursery with Eva, which delighted the girl. “Mummy! Can’t Button come as our helper? Grandma’s tired of walking her, and Button could help you wash the dishes and watch over us at nap time,” Eva grinned. Tamara laughed and hugged her, though her heart ached every time Eva repeated, “Mum, will Dad be back soon? Do you think he’ll make it for Christmas?” Tamara couldn’t bear to tell Eva the truth, inventing a story about a business trip. She tried to call Victor, but he was always “too busy:” “Tammy, let me enjoy my personal life—tell Eva I’m a super-spy on a top-secret mission, I won’t be back for ages. By the way, have you seen my Christmas tie?” She sat for ages, wondering how she’d face Christmas alone—or explain things to Eva. The encounter happened by pure chance. Grandma was taking Eva to the doctor—she was on the mend from a cold—when Victor suddenly appeared. “Daddy! Daddy, you’re back!” Eva squealed. Victor flinched, offered a pale smile, and muttered that he and Mummy wouldn’t be living together anymore, before hurrying away. “Maybe I’ll drop in sometime if I can,” he said as he left. Eva stood stone-faced, whispering, “Please don’t drop in on us anymore.” That evening her fever rose again, and a doctor was soon called. Eva refused to speak or eat, as if her recovery had stopped. “Could be stress-related,” the doctor murmured sympathetically when he heard what had happened. Tamara blamed herself. “I should have told Eva at once—she’s a clever girl, she’d have understood,” she said to her mother, who just shook her head. And then another shock—a few days later, Grandma took Button out for a walk, but without a lead. When she told Button off, the dog bolted in the opposite direction. “Suit yourself! Freeze outside if you must—see how you like it!” she huffed, rushing upstairs to Eva with her medicine. But when Eva learned Button was missing, she refused all food, telling her mother, “I’ll only eat when we find Button again.” “It’s your fault, Tam—she’s all spoiled and out of control. I warned you…” her mother began. “Maybe you should have watched Button instead of lecturing me!” Tamara snapped—unusually angry. Her mother left in offense, so Tamara was once again alone. That night, she wandered the estate searching for Button, returning home shivering and exhausted. Eva woke early: “Mum! I dreamed of a Christmas tree! We decorated it and found Button!” Tamara smiled sadly at the tiny artificial tree on the table. New Year’s Eve was almost here, and they’d done their best to prepare. But Eva was crestfallen—she insisted their tree must be big and real. “Then Button will come back too, like in my dream!” she sobbed. Buying a real tree wasn’t in Tamara’s budget. She phoned her mum for help, but was told, “You care more for that stray than your own mother! Think about that.” Tamara realised there’d be no help from Grandma. At least it was nearly the weekend. Eva, still unwell, stayed in bed. As the house was readied for New Year’s Eve, Eva wept, “There’s no tree, Mummy… And Button won’t come home, just like Daddy…” Tamara soothed her daughter, then asked her kindly neighbour to keep an eye on Eva, and dashed out into the snowy evening. Snowflakes whirled in the bitter air as laughing strangers brushed past. Tamara barely noticed, frantically searching for Button. “Where could you have run off to, little one?” she whispered again and again as she retraced her steps. She suddenly stopped at a small Christmas tree market. A stocky man in a sheepskin coat shuffled near the last few firs. Tamara hesitated. “Need a tree? Only a couple left, special discount,” he offered quickly, clearly eager to get home to his family—maybe his wife had set the table and the kids were peering from the window… A joyful couple scooped up the penultimate tree, leaving just one. “Are you taking it or not? I can help you carry it home,” the man said. Tamara looked despairingly into his eyes; she had no money on her, not enough even at home. She noticed some cast-off branches in the back of his truck. “Could I… have those branches? If you don’t need them?” she murmured. “Of course. Here, let me help,” he replied, passing her a bundle. Tamara, in relief, tried to explain, “My daughter’s poorly. She keeps wishing for a tree, our dog’s gone missing—everything’s just gone wrong, not at all like Christmas…” The man listened with compassion; he’d himself recently been left by his wife, and the holiday was looking empty. Just then, another customer arrived, “Is that tree for sale?” “It’s taken. Try the next stall,” the man replied. Turning to Tamara, he said, “Come on, I’ll help you get that tree home.” Tamara faltered, “But I told you—I have no money…” “I remember,” he said quietly. And then came the most magical moment—just what can only happen as Christmas draws in. He opened the truck—and there on the seat lay Button, fast asleep and bundled in a woolly jumper, slow to realise what was happening. “But—but how did you find Button?” Tamara cried, barely holding back tears. “Button? I’d been calling her Holly! She was out and about here all morning—lost, clearly. She cuddled up by my feet, so I popped her in the car, poor thing,” the man smiled. His name was Paul. He loved animals and got on famously with children. Soon, Tamara’s home felt warm and welcoming as never before. Perhaps it was the magic of Christmas, or perhaps fate had long planned this happy meeting—no one can say for sure. But we do know this: a new family found happiness, and sometimes, even today, the little dog gets called Holly.