A Blow to the Family: “He Brought Someone Else Instead”
Elsie had gone to her parents’ countryside cottage—to rest for a couple of weeks, to breathe fresh air, to gather strength after sleepless nights with the baby. Her husband, Oliver, was supposed to drive down at the weekend, as usual, to bring her back to the city. On Saturday morning, she dug up potatoes, packed her bags, dressed her son neatly, and sat by the window to wait. When a car pulled into the yard, her heart leaped—but instead of Oliver, his grandfather, Arthur Wilson, stepped out.
“Where’s Oliver? Couldn’t make it?” Elsie asked, surprised, stepping out to greet him.
Arthur’s expression was grim. He didn’t mince words.
“He’s fine. But there’s something you should know… Better you hear it from me.”
Elsie stiffened. A chill ran through her. She braced for the worst.
Oliver’s childhood had been hard. His father left when he was three, swept up by another woman. His mother, working shifts, couldn’t cope alone, so she handed him to her parents. Freshly retired, still strong, they threw themselves into raising him. They loved him fiercely, as their own, and even as a grown man, they still saw the little boy who’d once run barefoot through the garden.
Oliver studied, got his degree, landed a job at a respectable firm. Then he fell ill, went to the clinic—and there she was. A young nurse, gentle and bright as morning light. Her name was Elsie, from a village outside Norwich, studying at college, sharing a flat with a friend. A romance bloomed. Oliver introduced her not to his parents but to his grandparents—his mother and stepfather were strangers to him. The old couple welcomed her warmly, and after the wedding, offered them the spare upstairs rooms.
Elsie slipped smoothly into the household—quiet, hardworking, kind. Two years later, a child was born. Oliver was overjoyed—at first. But the baby was restless, crying through the nights, turning days upside down. Oliver moved to another room. Then he stayed late at work more often. Elsie felt the distance but said nothing—not to him, not to the grandparents.
One day, worn thin, she decided to visit her parents. Told Oliver she’d stay a fortnight. His reaction—too quick, too eager—made her uneasy. She tried to shake off the suspicion. But in vain.
A week passed. Then Oliver arrived at Arthur and Margaret’s house not alone, but with a woman.
“Meet Charlotte,” he announced cheerfully, nodding at the long-legged blonde with glossy lips.
“And who’s this?” Arthur frowned.
“My girlfriend. She’s moving in with me here.”
“Oliver, have you lost your mind?” Margaret interjected. “What about Elsie and your son?”
“We’re getting divorced,” he said flatly.
Charlotte stepped forward.
“Are we just standing around? Let’s go, Oliver. Clearly, we’re not welcome.”
“Quite right,” Arthur said sternly. “You have no place here.”
The next day, Arthur drove to fetch Elsie and his great-grandson. At first, she was confused, alarmed.
“Where’s Oliver? Is he ill?”
“Just busy,” Arthur brushed off. But when the moment came, he told her everything.
Elsie wept. Silent tears, no wailing—the grief of someone who already knew, only waiting for confirmation.
“You’re no guest here,” Arthur said. “You’re the mother of our great-grandson. You’re staying. There’s work nearby, schools. Make your life here.”
Later, they learned Oliver had rented a flat for himself and Charlotte, forgetting his son entirely. No support. Just silence.
“I can’t live off you,” Elsie said one day. “I need a job. But he’s still so small.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll file for child support,” Arthur said firmly. “He has responsibilities. If he won’t do it willingly, the law will make him.”
Oliver raged. Charlotte hissed:
“Maybe demand a DNA test? What if it’s not even yours?”
Oliver said nothing. He knew the truth.
“Doesn’t matter,” Charlotte went on. “Those old folks won’t last forever. They’ll keel over, and we’ll turf her out.”
But Arthur heard. He knew time was short. So one day, he handed Elsie papers—the deed to the house.
“This… this isn’t right,” she whispered. “He’s your grandson.”
“And you’re our family,” Arthur said. “He betrayed us. This is justice.”
That night, Elsie cried for hours. But for the first time—it was from gratitude. Her heart was shattered, but her soul knew: she wasn’t alone. Behind her stood those who truly loved her. And for them—she would endure.
