James was on his way home from work when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen—his mother, Margaret, was calling.
“Son, where are you?” Her voice was so cheerful it made him wary.
“Just leaving work, Mum. What’s wrong?”
“Come over. We’re waiting for you,” she chimed.
“We? Who’s we?” James frowned.
“Just come and see for yourself.”
“Be there soon,” he said shortly before hanging up.
Twenty minutes later, he stepped into his mother’s flat, pushed open the living room door—and froze. On the sofa sat his mother… with his daughter, Emily, in her lap.
“Laura, I saw Mum today,” he began that evening, approaching his wife.
“And?”
“She asked if she could come to Emily’s birthday party…”
“No,” Laura cut in sharply without turning.
“Listen, 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 remember all of them! What she did, I’ll never forget.”
“Laura, she misses her granddaughter. She’s sorry… Life’s short. Let her come.”
“No!” Laura’s 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, both of you were wrong back then. Why should she be the only one suffering?”
“So it’s my fault? Fine. Let her come. Emily and I will leave. Celebrate without us!”
“Laura, don’t you dare! I won’t stand for it!”
“Oh, I dare!” she snapped before storming out.
Once, everyone envied Laura. Her handsome, successful husband, the house they’d bought right after the wedding. And her mother-in-law… she’d seemed like a dream. Laura used to boast at work:
“Can you believe it? Margaret insisted James buy me a new coat. Said, ‘You’ll catch your death waiting at the bus stop!’ Now that’s care!”
“She brings us groceries in bulk. Checks what we’re low on and orders it herself!”
“For my birthday—the newest iPhone! Said, ‘It’s about time you had an upgrade.’ She’s not a mother-in-law; she’s a saint!”
When Laura got pregnant, Margaret acted like a goddess—booking appointments with top doctors, bringing the freshest fruit, warm clothes, vitamins.
But the moment Emily was born, everything changed.
Margaret visited daily. Bathed the baby, fed her, took control.
“You’re not producing enough milk because you’re not trying!”
“I am trying!” Laura nearly sobbed.
“Right. Lazybones, that’s what you are. Can’t even stay awake!”
James asked his mother to visit less. She sulked. Then came the endless calls:
“How’s Emily? What did she eat? Did she sleep well?”
“Don’t forget to air the room—but don’t let her catch a chill!”
“How’s the porridge? No lumps, I hope?”
Laura began to despise this so-called care. No one listened to her. No one respected her. To them, she was just the help—the girl who kept their granddaughter alive.
One day, after yet another lecture on weaning, Laura snapped.
“Leave me alone!”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere!” Margaret shot back. “I couldn’t care less about you. Emily’s what matters! And I’ll keep an eye on you whether you like it or not!”
An hour later, Laura took Emily for a walk. Passing the chemist, she remembered she needed antiseptic. She secured the pram outside, dashed in—and when she came out, the pram was gone.
Her world shattered.
Screams, tears, a crowd forming, the police arriving… James rushed over in half an hour.
Then—his mother’s call.
“James, where are you?”
“Mum?” His breath caught.
“I’ve got Emily. She was left all alone! How could you trust Laura with her?!”
“I’m on my way!”
“Stop crying, lazybones. It’s fine. Emily’s with me.”
“With your mother?!” Laura went pale. “She… she did this?”
“Yes.”
They drove over. The row that followed was explosive. Margaret tried to justify herself:
“I wanted to teach her a lesson. Show her what happens when you neglect a child!”
“A lesson?!” James was livid. “What if we’d called the police? Do you realize what you’ve done?!”
“I don’t care! I meant well!”
“And yet, look how it turned out.”
Laura stood coldly.
“I won’t forgive you. Don’t call. Don’t come near us. For Emily, you don’t exist.”
And so it stayed. Margaret stopped visiting. She couldn’t call—her number was blocked. If Laura spotted her in the street, she’d steer Emily away.
Now Emily’s nearly three. To her, her grandmother is a stranger.
Sometimes, the tightest grip isn’t love—it’s control in disguise.
