There was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood my mother-in-law, soaked to the bone, her eyes puffy from cryingturns out, the mistress had taken every last penny.
Fifteen years ago, I married William. Back then, his mother made it clear wed never be friends. I accepted it. We built our life together, but children took their time. Ten years of waiting, hoping, praying until life finally blessed us: first came Oliver, then Emily.
Life hadnt treated us badly. William climbed the ranks as a director at a prestigious firm. I devoted myself to the children, taking maternity leave and throwing myself into family life. My own mother lived far away in another city, so there was no help on hand. And my mother-in-law? Well, in fifteen years, her attitude toward me hadnt budged an inch. To her, I was always a “gold-digger,” a cunning woman whod stolen her son. In her dreams, William shouldve married the “proper girl”the one shed picked out for him. But William chose me.
We carried on, raising our children, and I ignored her icy stares. Until, one day, everything fell apart.
I remember every detail of that day. Wed just returned from a walk, the kids were in the hallway kicking off their shoes, and I went to put the kettle on. Thats when I spotted a note on the side table. Just stepping closer sent a chill down my spine. The house felt eerily empty. Williams things were gone.
On the paper, in hurried scribbles, hed written:
*”Forgive me. It happenedI fell for someone else. Dont look for me. Youre strong; youll manage. Its for the best.”*
His phone 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 this “someone else” could be. Desperate, I called his mother, hoping for answers, for some comfort. Instead, her voice dripped with smugness:
This is all your fault. She sounded almost pleased.I always knew it would end like this. You shouldve seen it coming.
I was speechless. What had I done? Why did they hate me so much? But there was no time for blameI had the kids and barely any money. William hadnt left a single pound.
I couldnt workno one to watch the children. Then I remembered an old side gig, proofreading university essays. Thats how we scraped by. Every day, a battle to put food on the table. Six months passednot a word from William.
One autumn evening, as I tucked the kids into bed, there was an urgent 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.
Can I come in? she whispered, and without thinking, I stepped aside.
We sat in the kitchen. Between sobs, she told me everything. Williams “new love” was a con artist. Shed cleaned him out, plunged him into debt, and vanished with everything of value.
William was left penniless. The mistresss promises were lies; their future, a fantasy. Even his mother had lost everythingshed mortgaged her flat for him, and now the bank was threatening eviction.
Weve got 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 scornful glance, the years Id felt like an outsider in my own family. And now she wanted my help?
Part of me wanted to throw her words back at her. To snap, *”Go figure it out yourself!”* But another partthe part 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 decided, I stood, made tea, and set a cup in front of her.
Because sometimes, being human means choosing not with your heart, but with your conscience.
