**Diary Entry A Lesson Learned the Hard Way**
“Hello, Natalie, can you come over? Im not feeling well.” My mothers voice trembled over the phone. “Denis and Stacy left little Kyle with me and went outI cant reach them.”
“Again? Bloody hell! Ill be right there, Mum.”
Half an hour later, I arrived at her flat in Manchester. Her blood pressure had spiked, and her head throbbed. “Should I call an ambulance?” I asked.
“No, just need to rest. But Kyles bouncing off the wallstoo young to understand.” I took my grandson to the other room, fuming. *They left him with an ill great-grandmother while they went gallivanting. Selfish idiots.*
An hour later, Denis and Stacy stumbled in, reeking of booze. “Denis, Gran was poorly, and you ignored your phone! Why dump Kyle on her again?”
“Mum, relax! Shes exaggeratingfit as a fiddle!”
“Dont you dare! Youve no shame, either of you. Mooching off her instead of finding your own place!”
“Well, if youd help us buy a flat”
“Get jobs! Kyles old enough for nursery. Stop this influencer nonsenseits a pipe dream!”
“We *are* working! Our vlogs about to blow upjust wait!”
“Rubbish! Youre one in a million. Shouldve sorted your life *before* starting a family.”
Denis scoffed. “Not my fault Stacy got pregnant so quick!”
Stacy, equally sloshed, snapped, “*My* fault, is it?”
“Im done with your drunken drivel.” I checked on Mumasleep, thank God. “Keep quiet. Im leaving.”
—
Everything went pear-shaped after Stacys surprise pregnancy. They rushed a modest wedding, then guilt-tripped Gran into letting them move in. “Well help with chores,” theyd promised. *Temporary*, they swore.
I warned her. “Theyll drain you dry.” But Gran, soft-hearted, relented.
Soon, they dumped Kyle on her daily. “Youre his *parents*,” I seethed. “Sort your priorities.” So they left him with Gran insteadworse.
Then came the final straw. A coworker said, “Natalie, your mums gone viral. Denis films her ‘funny’ answers for likes. Commenters are horrified.”
I stormed out, dialling Denis. “Take those videos down *now*!”
“No way. This contents goldwell cash in soon!”
“Youre exploiting her! Delete them, or youre out!”
“Gran *wants* to help. Besides, her flats mine eventually. Why rent?”
The audacity left me speechless. “Over my dead body. Prove you can stand on your own feet first!”
Gran, ever the peacemaker, intervened. “Let them stay. The videos dont bother me.”
Two weeks later, she collapsed. The ambulance was too late.
At the funeral, Denis weptgenuinely, I thought. Then he admitted, “Gran signed the flat over to me. Her choice.”
Dumbstruck, I said nothing. *Her will. But at what cost?*
Days later, fetching her things, I overheard Stacys phone call: “Finally rid of that nagging crone. I delayed calling the ambulancegave her the wrong pills. Once she signed the deed, well”
I burst in. “You *killed* her!”
Stacy smirked. “Prove it. Oh, and Kyles not even Deniss.”
Denis reeled. Stacy fled with the boy. No police reportno proof. Just guilt on her soul.
“*You* drove her to this,” I told Denis.
Shaken, he deleted the vlog, got a proper job. Divorced Stacy, sued to void paternity. Met a decent woman later.
Watching him grow up at last, I scribble this lesson: *Kindness abused turns deadly. And some regrets? They linger forever.*
