My son-in-law declared Id never see my daughter again unless I sold my mothers house.
Id lived half my life alone. Oh, Id been married once, but my husband walked out a year after the weddingright after our daughter was born. At least Peter had the decency to leave us the three-bedroom flat. Small mercies. I never remarried. What was the point? I had Lillian to raise. There was no room for another man in my life, not with all the struggles of putting food on the table and keeping a roof over our heads.
I knew Id done my best, but it wasnt enough. A girl needs her father. That was one thing I could never give her. So as she grew, Lillian clung to every boy who showed her kindness. Not all of them appreciated such devotion. Too many nights, I held her while she sobbed over another broken heart. But time passed, and eventually, my girl found her match.
Daniel was steady, hardworking, kind. When he asked for her hand, I gave my blessing without hesitation. He respected me. He adored Lillian. What more could I want? For a while, I thought him the perfect son-in-law. But fairy tales dont last. Six months into their marriage, he changed.
By then, I was caring for my own mother. Shed had me young, just as Id had Lillian, so shed lived to see her granddaughter grow. But age had worn her down. When she fell ill, I brought her home. There was no questionshe was my responsibility. Still, Daniel bristled at her presence.
Why? Ill never understand. He wasnt lifting a finger to help. All the work fell to me, and Mum was no troublesharp as a tack, quiet as a mouse. Yet he scowled whenever she spoke.
Things only got worse. Soon, Lillian avoided me too. Once, wed shared meals at the same table. Now, they hid away in their room. I tried talking to her, but she dodged every conversationexcuses, always excuses.
No grandchildren, either. “Were not ready,” they said. “Were living for ourselves.” I pressed at first, then gave up. Their life, their choice. But Daniels behavior grated on me. He strutted through my home like he owned it, yet never lifted a finger to fix a leak or replace a lightbulb. Always out with his mates at the pub, though. Where was the diligent man Id welcomed into our family?
Gone. The mask had slipped.
With each passing week, he grew bolder. Then came New Years Eve. Daniel refused to celebrate with us. He dragged Lillian to their room, leaving Mum and me alone. At midnight, my daughter crept out to wish us a happy new year. Her husband didnt bother.
The next morning, he delivered his ultimatum: “Lillian and I are selling your mothers house. Were buying our own place.”
I stared at him, stunned. After half a year living under my roof, eating my foodthis was his demand?
“No,” I said, my voice steady. “Earn your own flat. That house is my mothers. Were not selling it. Its hers to decide.”
His face twisted. By evening, hed packed their bags and taken my daughter to his parents house.
The worst part? Lillian didnt even protest. But if she believes this is happiness, so be it. Her choice. Her life.
Did I do the right thing?
What would you have done?
