**Diary Entry**
I was on my way home from work when my phone rang. A quick glance at the screen—Mum calling.
“Son, where are you?” Valerie’s voice was so cheerful it set me on edge.
“On my way back, Mum. What’s happened?”
“Come round. We’re waiting for you,” she replied, still sounding far too pleased with herself.
“We? Who’s we?” I frowned.
“You’ll see when you get here.”
“I’ll be there soon,” I said shortly before hanging up.
Twenty minutes later, I stepped into her flat, pushed open the living room door—and froze. There on the sofa sat my mother… with my little girl, Lily, in her lap.
That evening, I approached my wife, Emily. “Ran into Mum today,” I began.
“And?”
“She asked if she could come to Lily’s birthday party.”
“No,” Emily snapped, not even turning to face me.
“Look, maybe it’s time to let it go? It’s been two years—”
“For you, it’s been two years. For me? It’s been every single day, and I haven’t forgotten a moment of it. What she did, I’ll never forgive.”
“Emily, she misses her granddaughter. She’s apologized… Life’s too short. Let her come.”
“No!” Her eyes flashed. “I don’t want to see her!”
“Well, I do! She’s my mother, in case you’ve forgotten! And if we’re being honest, you were both in the wrong that day. Why’s she the only one paying for it?”
“So, it’s my fault now? Fine. Let her come. Lily and I will leave. You two can celebrate together!”
“Emily, don’t you dare—”
“Oh, I dare!” She stormed out before I could finish.
Once, everyone envied Emily. A handsome, successful husband, a flat bought right after the wedding. And the mother-in-law? Seemed like a saint. Emily would brag at work:
“Can you believe it? Margaret insisted James buy me a proper winter coat. Said, ‘You’ll freeze at the bus stop otherwise!’ Now that’s care!”
“She brings us groceries by the bagful. Just checks what we need and orders it herself!”
“For my birthday—the newest iPhone! Said, ‘High time you had an upgrade.’ Dream motherin-law, honestly.”
When Emily got pregnant, Margaret acted like she’d been crowned queen. Booked the best doctors, brought the freshest fruit, warmest clothes, vitamins.
Then Lily was born—and everything changed.
Margaret came round every day. Bathed her, fed her, micromanaged everything.
“You’re not producing enough milk because you’re not trying!”
“I am trying!” Emily would reply, near tears.
“Oh, please! You’re half-asleep on your feet!”
I begged Mum to visit less. She took offence. Then came the endless calls:
“How’s Lily? What did she eat? How long did she sleep?”
“Don’t forget to air the room—but don’t let her catch a chill!”
“Did you puree the carrots properly? No lumps?”
Emily began to despise this so-called care. No one listened to her. No one respected her. To them, she was just the help—the one who existed to serve their granddaughter.
One day, after another lecture on proper weaning, Emily snapped.
“Just leave me alone!”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” Margaret shot back. “I don’t care about you. Lily’s what matters! And I’ll keep an eye on you, whether you like it or not!”
An hour later, Emily took Lily out for a walk. Passing the chemist, she remembered needing antiseptic. She left the pram by the door, dashed inside—and when she came out, the pram was gone.
Her world shattered.
Screams, tears, a crowd, the police… I got there in half an hour.
Then—Mum called.
“James, where are you?”
“Mum?” My voice shook.
“I’ve found Lily. She was just standing there alone! How could you ever trust that girl with a child?!”
“I’m coming!” I barked.
“Emily, don’t cry. She’s safe. Lily’s with Mum.”
“With your mother?!” Emily went pale. “She… she did this?”
“Yes.”
We drove over. The row was vicious. Margaret tried justifying herself:
“I just wanted to teach her a lesson! So she’d learn how *not* to treat a child!”
“A *lesson*?!” I was livid. “What if we’d called the police? Do you even *realise* what you’ve done?!”
“I don’t care! I only wanted what’s best!”
“And as usual, you made it worse.”
Emily stood there, ice-cold:
“I won’t forgive you. Don’t call. Don’t come near us. To Lily, you don’t exist.”
And that’s how it’s been. No visits. No calls—her number’s blocked. If Emily spots her in the street, she steers Lily away.
Lily turns three soon. To her, her grandmother’s a stranger.
**Lesson**: Love doesn’t mean control. And sometimes, the harm we do “for their own good” can’t ever be undone.
