**A Knock at the Door: A Mother-in-Law in Tears and a Drama Unfolded**
There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find my mother-in-law, drenched and with swollen eyes from weepingturns out, the mistress had taken their last penny.
Fifteen years ago, Victor and I married. Back then, his mother made it clear wed never be friends. I accepted it. We lived our love, but children were slow to come. Ten years of waiting, hoping, praying until life blessed us: first came Peter, then Eleanor.
Life hadnt treated us poorly. Victor built a career as a director at a prominent firm. I devoted myself to the children, taking maternity leave and diving headfirst into family life. My own mother lived far away, in another town, so there was no help to be had. And my mother-in-law? Well, in fifteen years, her attitude toward me hadnt shifted an inch. To her, Id always been a “gold-digger,” a sly woman who stole her son. In her dreams, Victor shouldve married the “proper girl,” the one shed handpicked. But Victor chose me.
We lived, raised our children, and I ignored her icy stares. Until, one day, it all crumbled.
I remember every detail of that day. Wed just returned from an outing, the children were kicking off their shoes in the hall, and I was putting the kettle on. Thats when I noticed a note on the side table. Just approaching it sent a shiver down my spine. The house felt unnaturally empty. Victors things were gone.
On the paper, in hurried scrawl, hed written:
*”Forgive me. It happenedI fell for another. Dont look for me. Youre strong; youll manage. Its for the best.”*
His mobile was switched off. Not a call, not a text. Hed simply vanished, leaving me alonewith two small children in my arms.
I didnt know where he was or who the “other” was. Desperate, I called his mother. I hoped for an explanation, some scrap of comfort. Instead, I heard:
This is all your fault. Her voice dripped with satisfaction.I always knew itd end like this. You shouldve seen it coming.
I was speechless. What had I done? Why did they hate me so? But there was no time for blameI had the children and barely a penny to my name. Victor hadnt left a farthing.
I couldnt workthere was no one to watch the little ones. Then I remembered an old side job, proofreading university essays. Thats how we survived. Each day, a battle to put food on the table. Six months passednot a trace of Victor.
One autumn evening, as I tucked the children in, there came a persistent knock at the door. Who could it be at this hour? A neighbour?
I opened itand nearly stumbled back.
There stood my mother-in-law. Dishevelled, drenched, her face streaked with tears.
May I come in? she whispered, and without thinking, I stepped aside.
We sat in the kitchen. Between sobs, she told me everything. Victors “new love” was a fraud. Shed emptied his pockets, plunged him into debt, and vanished with every valuable thing.
Victor was left destitute. The mistresss home was a lie, their futurea mirage. Even my mother-in-law had lost everything: shed mortgaged her flat for him, and now the bank threatened eviction.
Weve nothing left she whimpered.Help me Please Ive nowhere to go
She looked at me like a beaten dog, begging to stay, even for a few days.
My fists clenched. My head throbbed with questions. I remembered every cruel word, every sneer, the years Id felt like an outsider in my own family. And now she wanted my help?
Part of me wanted to throw it back in her face. To snap, *”Be on your way, thensee how you manage!”* But another partthe one that still believed in love, in kindness, in my childrenwouldnt let me be so heartless.
I stayed silent. My eyes burned.
What to choose? Revenge or mercy?
While I wrestled with it, I stood, brewed tea, and set a cup before her.
Because sometimes, being human means choosing not with the heart, but with the conscience.
