**Diary Entry – 8th June**
*”You have one month to move out of my flat!”* My mother-in-law’s words hit like a hammer. And just like that, my husband took her side.
Arthur and I had been together for two years before we decided to make it official. In that time, I truly believed I’d struck gold—not just with him, but with his family too. His mother and I got on well. I listened to her advice, showed her respect, and even quietly congratulated myself on having such a wise, kind-hearted mother-in-law.
She paid for nearly the entire wedding. My parents could only chip in a little—they were struggling, and none of us blamed them. Everything felt like a dream. It seemed only smooth sailing lay ahead. But mere days after the wedding, my *charming* mother-in-law dropped a bombshell that still echoes in my mind.
*”Well, children,”* she said coolly, *”I’ve done my duty. Raised my son, put him through school, seen him married. Now, pack your things—you’ve got exactly a month to clear out of my flat. You’re a family now; time to stand on your own two feet. It won’t be easy, but it’ll toughen you up. You’ll learn to budget, scrape by, find solutions. As for me… I’m finally going to live for myself.”*
I froze. Arthur stayed silent. Part of me thought it was a joke, but her face told me she meant every word.
*”And don’t expect me to babysit your children,”* she added, twisting the knife. *”I’ve given my son everything. I owe no one anything else. Yes, I’ll be a grandmother, but not a nanny. You’re welcome to visit, but counting on my help? Don’t. You’ll understand when you’re my age.”*
Shocked doesn’t cover it. Everything I believed shattered in an instant. Standing in what I’d thought was *our* temporary home, I felt the ground vanish beneath me. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all at once. This woman would keep her three-bedroom flat all to herself while tossing us out like strangers. And Arthur was her son—his name was on the deeds too!
I waited for him to defend me, to take my side… But he just looked at me and muttered, *”Mum’s probably right. We should learn to manage on our own.”*
He jumped straight into hunting for rentals and scouting job listings—*”Need to earn more now we’re starting our own life.”*
I barely recognised him. Where was the man who’d sworn he’d never let me down? The one who promised to stand by me?
My parents couldn’t take us in—they were squeezed into a tiny two-bed council flat with my younger sister. Financial help? Out of the question. I don’t blame them. But where was that sweet, doting mother-in-law when *we* needed *her*?
I’d heard stories about difficult in-laws, but I never imagined mine would be the type to toss her own son out with the rest.
And as for grandchildren… Doesn’t every grandmother dream of spoiling them? Isn’t that what women her age live for? I remember her sighing just last year, *”When I have a grandchild, I’ll never put them down!”*
Now? *”I owe no one anything.”*
Maybe she’s right—maybe we *should* learn independence. Maybe this is her idea of tough love. But I’ll never look at her the same way again. Because that night, she made it clear: when things get hard, she’s for herself—not family.
And Arthur? He chose his mother. Even if he thinks it’s temporary, for me, it’s forever.
**Lesson learned: Blood runs thicker than vows.**
