“My daughter-in-law doesn’t need anyone—not even her own child!” — the story of a woman who doesn’t understand family
After my son’s wedding, I hoped everything would turn out well for our family. But from the very first day, I knew this woman, Emily, wasn’t for me. No, it wasn’t jealousy, as some might think. I’d long accepted that my son had grown up, married, and now another woman was the most important person in his life. I would’ve been happy to welcome her, to support her, to stand by her. But the more I saw, the clearer it became—she loved no one. Not me, not my son, and worst of all, not even her own child.
From the start, Emily put herself and her desires above everything else. I noticed it even before the wedding, but I thought maybe having a child would change her—that she’d soften, become more caring. I was wrong. She stayed just as cold as she’d always been. My son? He seemed like a temporary assistant to her—useful only as long as it suited her.
They hardly ever visited me. Family gatherings were always at our house, and only then would Emily show up—dressed to the nines, with flawless nails, freshly styled hair, in expensive outfits. Fine, but every time I looked at my son, I felt like crying. He seemed exhausted, unkempt, lost. Not a man in a happy marriage, but someone barely surviving in hostile territory.
“Honestly, Emily, you don’t take any care of your husband at all,” my sister remarked cautiously one evening over dinner.
Emily just smirked.
“I wasn’t hired to be his mother. He can look after himself.”
I stayed quiet then, biting back what I really wanted to say. I didn’t want to ruin my son’s evening. But one thought stuck in my mind: “Does she even care what he looks like? As long as her lashes are curled and her nails shine, nothing else matters.”
Time passed. Then one day, my son called:
“Mum, can I stay with you for a bit? I just need somewhere to be…”
His voice was weak, rough. An hour later, he arrived—pale, feverish, barely standing. I nearly fainted when I saw him. Turned out, he’d been prescribed injections—twice a day, strict schedule. And Emily? Emily said:
“I’m not setting alarms for this. His mum can do it if she’s so worried.”
So he came to me. That was his “wife.” No care, no concern. I thought maybe after this, he’d seriously consider divorce. But no—a few months later, they decided… to have a child.
My grandson was born, but I saw no love from his mother. Everything was mechanical: feed, change, put to sleep. No kisses, no cuddles, no warmth. A machine, not a mother. I remember when they planned a holiday. Emily refused to take the baby—”he’d just ruin the trip”—and suggested leaving him with a friend. Not with me, not with her in-laws—we all worked. My son refused—he couldn’t abandon his child. So she went alone.
He stayed behind, cooking, walking, caring for the baby—doing it all himself. That was the first time he truly thought about leaving her. But as usual, he hesitated, hoping she might change. She didn’t. They’re still together, but more often now, he stays with me—after their fights, after the hurt he can’t take anymore.
Emily lives as if she’s alone. She needs no one. Her husband? Just a flatmate. Her child? An inconvenience. I don’t understand… Why marry if you don’t want a family? Why have a child if you don’t want one? Just to tick a box?
My son is miserable. I see it. But he still holds on. And I still wait—for the day he finally realizes this woman will never change. Only then, maybe, will his real life begin. Without the cold wife, without the empty marriage. Just him and his little boy—loved, at last.
