“Happiness Is Hers, but We Pay the Price”
“Lizzy, it’s so good I caught you outside! Saves me trudging all the way up!” gasped Eleanor Whitmore, Natalie’s mother-in-law, slightly out of breath.
“Hello,” Natalie replied, a bit flustered by the unexpected encounter.
Their relationship wasn’t exactly strained—just distant. Eleanor rarely visited, as she devoted herself entirely to her daughter Margaret.
“Liz, lend me a hundred quid. Maggie and little Alfie are off to the seaside retreat. There’s always something to buy, and prices these days are through the roof! You know how it is…” Eleanor rolled her eyes dramatically.
Natalie seethed inside. How many times had she imagined snapping, “I’m not a cash machine!” She’d have loved to throw those words in Eleanor’s face—or Margaret’s—and put an end to the endless begging.
But she bit her tongue. Eleanor was the mother of her husband, Edward, and grandmother to their daughter, Lily. Speaking up would mean open conflict, family tension—and Edward torn between wife and mother. For his sake, Natalie kept silent. Yet she knew she couldn’t keep swallowing her anger forever. Suppressing a sigh, she fished out her purse.
——
Natalie trudged home in a foul mood. Auditors had nitpicked every detail at work, the boss had yelled at the whole team, and she’d stayed two hours late. Then came groceries, dinner, helping Lily with homework—the never-ending list exhausted her.
She unlocked the flat wearily.
“Mum, hi! We’ve got a project on British birds for tomorrow—can you help?” nine-year-old Lily bounded up, oblivious to her mother’s fatigue.
“Of course, love. Let me change and whip up dinner first.” Natalie dropped her bags and headed to the bedroom.
“Didn’t hear you come in. Rough day?” Edward called from the sofa.
“Auditors. The usual.” She waved it off.
“Oh, I gave Mum £50. They needed a spring coat for Alfie.”
“Edward, when does it stop? Alfred has a father—let *him* buy the coat! Why must their problems always land on us?” Natalie’s temper flared.
“Come on, love, you know their situation—”
“What situation, Ed?” She forced herself not to shout. “Maggie won’t work, her ex won’t pay child support, Mum pours her pension into them! Why must *we* go without so they can live beyond their means?”
“Let’s not fight over this. I’ll help with dinner.”
Margaret, Edward’s younger sister, had married a “wealthy entrepreneur” five years ago.
“Oh, Maggie and Greg are off to Marbella again—such a posh hotel! And here you are, slaving away in accounting!” Eleanor said, basking in her daughter’s glamorous life.
Then the truth surfaced—Greg’s “business” was credit-fueled fantasy. He vanished to Scotland, leaving Maggie drowning in debt.
Eleanor paid some loans with her pension, leaving barely enough for herself, Maggie, and Alfie. Natalie and Edward stepped in—covering bills, groceries—until sacrifices became routine.
The final straw came when Natalie spotted Maggie lounging in a café, sipping lattes.
“Maggie, what are you doing here?”
“Having a coffee. Why?”
“With *our* money?”
“Oh, so *you* can lunch out, but I can’t?” Maggie huffed.
That evening, Eleanor unleashed a tirade—calling Natalie greedy, ungrateful, cruel to poor Maggie, who was “traumatised” by divorce.
Natalie stood her ground. “If Maggie got a job, she could dine out every day! But not on our backs.”
“Work?! And send Alfie to nursery? He’s *delicate*!” Eleanor sobbed.
“Lily went at eighteen months—she thrived!”
“Fine! Keep your money! I’ll work before I let you insult us!” Eleanor stormed out.
Silence followed. Edward fretted, but Natalie held firm. Maggie needed to grow up—get a job, demand child support.
Then, at the shopping centre, they bumped into Maggie, Eleanor, and Alfie laden with bags.
“Maggie’s got a *wonderful* job now!” Eleanor gloated.
“Brilliant! Well done,” Edward beamed.
Natalie smiled thinly. Later, they learned the “job” was another credit card. Predictably, Maggie defaulted—and the pleas for help resumed.
This time, Natalie snapped. She showed Eleanor her empty wallet. “We’ve dressed Lily, fixed the car—no holidays for *years*! And Maggie’s off to the seaside?!”
“You heartless woman!” Eleanor hissed.
“Exactly.” Natalie walked away.
Three weeks later, Eleanor called: “Maggie met a man—Paul Holloway, a businessman. He’s giving her a job!”
Natalie’s blood ran cold. “Ed, my boss said Holloway’s a con artist—his firms are shells!”
But Maggie brushed them off: “Stop meddling in my happiness!”
This time, Natalie and Edward vowed: *No more*. Maggie’s “happiness” wouldn’t cost them another penny.
**Lesson:** Endless rescues teach no responsibility. Sometimes, the kindest act is to say no.
