I had been my sons familys free babysitter and cook until they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nina, hi! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law Katys voice chirped with feigned cheerfulness through the phone.
Silently, I stirred the long-cold soup with a spoon. Of course she wasnt interrupting. I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Go on, Katy.”
“Weve got newsan absolute bombshell! Leo and I booked tickets, were off to Turkey for two weeks! All-inclusive, can you believe it? A last-minute deal!”
I could picture it. Sun, sea, Leo, and Katy. Somewhere out of frametheir five-year-old son, Mikey. My grandson.
“Congratulations. Im happy for you,” I said, flat and lifeless, like reading a medicine leaflet.
“Right! So youll take Mikey, yeah? He cant go to nursery, theres chickenpox going round again.”
“And hes got swimming clubno missing that. Plus speech therapy next week. Ill text you the schedule.”
She spoke quickly, not letting me get a word in, as if afraid I might think twice and refuse. Though I never refused.
“Katy, I was thinking of going to the cottage for a few days while the weather holds…” I began, not even believing my own weak attempt.
“The cottage?” Her voice rang with genuine shock, as if Id announced a trip to Mars. “Mum, seriously? Priorities! The boy needs you.”
They werent off gallivanting, she insisted, but “recharging their health.” Sea air, vitamins!
I stared out the window at the grey courtyard. My sea air. My vitamins.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Katy barrelled on. “The premium cat food delivery arrives Wednesdaytwelve kilos. Couriers coming between ten and six, so stay home, yeah? And water the plants, especially the orchid. Its fussy.”
She listed my duties like they were obvious. I wasnt a person, just a function. A free, convenient add-on to their comfortable lives.
“Fine, Katy. Of course.”
“Brilliant! Knew we could count on you!” She gushed as if granting me the greatest favour. “Right, kisses, gotta dashpacking to do!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down slowly. My eyes landed on the wall calendar. A red circle marked next Saturdaythe long-awaited reunion with friends I hadnt seen in a year.
I picked up a damp cloth and wiped the mark away in one motion. Erasing another tiny scrap of my own unlived life.
No anger, no bitterness. Just a thick, smothering emptiness and one quiet, razor-sharp question: When would they realise I wasnt just a free app, but a living person?
Probably only when they saw me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
They dropped Mikey off the next day. My son, Leo, hauled in a massive suitcase, a swim bag, and three carrier bags of toys, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, weve got to dashlate for the airport,” he muttered, dumping the suitcase in the hall.
Katy swept in behind him, already in holiday modefloral dress, straw hat. She scanned my modest flat with a quick, appraising glance.
“Nina, dont let Mikey watch too much telly, read to him instead. And go easy on sweetshe gets hyper.”
She thrust a folded sheet of paper at me. “Heres the routine, therapist numbers, meal plan. Everything.”
She spoke as if Id never met my own grandson. As if I hadnt cared for him since birth while they built their careers.
“Katy, I remember what he likes,” I said softly.
“Rememberings one thing, diets another,” she snapped. “Right, Mikey, be good for Gran! Well bring you back a massive toy car!”
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and a lingering draft.
Mikey, realising hed been left behind, wailed. The first three days were a marathon.
Swimming club across town, speech therapy the other side. Tantrums, night tears, endless “I want Mummy.” I was worn to the bone.
On day four, I dared to call Leo. Theyd just checked into their hotel.
“Mum? Whats wrong? Is Mikey okay?” His voice was tense.
“Hes fine. Leo, I need to talk… This is too much. Maybe hire a part-time nanny? Ill pay half.”
Silence. Then a heavy sigh.
“Mum, dont start. We just got here. Katys stressed enough. Hes your grandsonthis should be a joy.”
“Joy doesnt cancel exhaustion. Im not getting younger.”
“Youll adjust,” he said firmly. “Lets not ruin the holiday. We barely ever get away. Gotta goKatys calling.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardening. Not anger. Just cold, clear understanding.
To him, I wasnt his mother who might struggle. I was a resource. Reliable, tested, andmost importantlyfree.
Wednesday came. The courier dumped the twelve-kilo sack of cat food on the doorstep and left. I strained my back dragging it inside. Sitting beside the fishy-smelling sack, I laughedsilent, humourless.
That evening, Katy called. Sea sounds and music in the background.
“Nina, hi! You watered my orchid, yeah? Filtered water, remember? Not the leavesthe roots!”
No “Hows Mikey?” No “How are you?” Just the orchid.
“I remember, Katy. All under control,” I said, eyeing the damned cat food.
That night, I barely slept. Not thinking of the cottage or my friends. I opened the cupboard, took out my old savings book and passport. Just stared at them, tracing the covers.
The flicker of an idea from days ago wasnt just fantasy anymore. It had shape. A plan.
The phone rang on day ten of their “holiday.” Leo again.
“Mum, hi! Hows our little soldier?”
“Asleep,” I said flatly.
“Listen, thing is…” He hesitated. I knew what was coming. “This place is paradise. Hotel offered a discount to stay another week. Unbelievable, right?”
I stayed silent. Knew what came next.
“Were staying. But funds are tight… Mum, could you?”
That wheedling tone I hated.
“Katy remembered Dads sapphire earrings. You never wear them.”
“What do you want, Leo?” My voice was eerily calm.
“Pawn them, yeah?” he blurted. “Well redeem them when were back. Honest! Whats the point of them gathering dust? This is living!”
Katys voice in the background: “Leo, stop waffling! Nina, theyre just things!”
Just things. My memories. My family. My life. Just collateral for their “living.”
Something inside me froze solid. Not shatteredjust turned to ice.
The emptiness filled with cold, ringing resolve.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Fifty grand should cover it. Just photo the receipt so we know what to pay back.”
“Of course, Leo. Enjoy your holiday.”
I hung up. Peeked into Mikeys room. He slept, lips smacking adorably. My sweet, unwanted boy.
The ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt abandon him. But I couldnt go on like this either.
I texted Leo: “Not pawning the earrings. Your return flights in four days. If youre not back by Sunday, Im calling social services on Monday. No discussion.”
The reply was instant: “Are you THREATENING us?!”
I didnt answer. I opened the airline site and booked a ticket. Antalya. Departing Tuesday. No return date.
They stormed in on Sunday evening. Tanned, irritable, and furious.
“Happy now, are you?” Katy spat. “Ruined our best holiday ever! Manipulative cow!”
Leo marched past to Mikey, who flung himself into his arms.
I stepped out from the kitchen, holding my passport with the ticket tucked inside. Utterly calm.
“Glad you came back for your son,” I said quietly. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They fell silent, startled by my tone.
“Five years, Leo. Five whole years Ive lived as your shadow.”
I collected Mikey when Katy was busy with manicures. Stayed up with him through teething nights so they could sleep. Turned down trips, meetups, my own plansbecause “Mum, we need help.”
Spent more time with their son than they had combined. Been their free function.
I looked at Katy.
“Not once did
