“He’s not my son-in-law—and he never will be!”—How Grandma is tearing my family apart
She took an instant dislike to him from the very start. She won’t even say his name—just calls him “that one” or “your bloke.” I’ve begged her dozens of times to stay out of our relationship, but Grandma has her own way of looking at things. “If he were decent, he’d have married you by now. You’ve got a child together, and still no ring on your finger!”—that’s all she ever says. No respect for him at all, laments 26-year-old Emma from Manchester.
She and Nathan have been together for over two years. At first, it was just dating, but when Emma found out she was pregnant, they decided to move in together. Nathan didn’t run—he stepped up, even proposed. But then, as luck would have it, everything went wrong: first, she was put on bed rest, then he ran into trouble at work. A wedding was the last thing they could think about.
They lived in Emma’s grandmother’s place—a three-bedroom flat in a concrete high-rise on the south side of the city. The flat was her grandmother’s, but Emma and her mum had been registered there since childhood. More recently, Nathan was added to the lease. When their daughter was born, space grew tighter, but love kept them going.
They never made it to the registry office. First, medical reasons got in the way, then everyday life took over. But Nathan always said, “I want it to be special for you. A proper wedding—gown, rings, the works, just like you’ve dreamed.” He wanted to save up for a proper celebration, not just a quick signing of papers.
That’s when Grandma—Margaret—dug her heels in. She was firm: no ring, no husband. Even though Nathan never once turned his back on Emma or their child, she called him a “waster.” Said if he’d really wanted to marry her, he’d have done it by now. To her, formalities meant everything.
When Nathan lost his job, Grandma wouldn’t let up. She called him a layabout, a freeloader, a “boy with no backbone.” It got so unbearable he took the first job he could find just to escape the house. Hard labour, barely minimum wage, but he keeps looking for something better.
Emma’s mum—a quiet woman who stays out of their business—even admits Margaret goes too far. She meddles, dictates, criticises. And the young couple has enough troubles as it is.
Emma’s best friend has been telling her to move out for ages—even offered them a place to stay. But Nathan’s pay is unreliable, and rent would swallow half their income. They could handle the utilities, but what would they live on after that?
“We’re holding on,” Emma says softly. “We kept hoping things would settle. Then this happened. He went out with his mates one evening. Promised he’d be back by eleven. Midnight—no sign of him. One in the morning—still gone. I called, panicking. Grandma saw it all. He stumbled in at dawn, reeking of drink. Apologies, excuses. And Grandma—she lost it. Shouted at him, threw him out. Said, ‘It’s my house—my rules! If I see you here again, I’ll call the police!’”
Ever since, Nathan’s been crashing at a friend’s. He calls Emma every day, misses their daughter. Says he’s looking for a way out. Promises to find a flat, bring them over. But it’s all talk. No money, no real way forward.
And Emma’s stuck between a rock and a hard place—on one side, the man she loves; on the other, her home. Grandma won’t back down. Her house, her rules—no arguments.
But does she have the right to break up a family just because things aren’t done her way? Is a piece of paper really the measure of love and responsibility? Should a child lose their father, a woman her support, all for formality’s sake?
Emma doesn’t know what to do. There’s no real choice. No money. All she has is hope—hope in Nathan. But all he has are promises.
So she sits at night, staring at the empty spot where his rucksack used to be, wondering: “Maybe he really isn’t the one for me? Maybe Grandma’s right?”
Or maybe someone was so desperate to be right, they broke what love had built.
