“Bloody hell, you’re never happy with anything!” I snapped at my mother-in-law. The next day, she got her revenge in the worst way possible.
My name’s James. I live in Manchester now, remarried with a lovely family and a young son. But the scar from my first marriage still aches—because that’s where I left my daughter behind. Not by choice.
I met my first wife, Emily, in our second year at university. We grew close quickly, dated for a few months. Then I started feeling the spark fade, just as she told me she was pregnant. We were too young, and I knew right then—things were heading downhill. But I didn’t run from responsibility. I married her. Her parents gifted us a one-bed flat for the wedding, mine paid for a holiday to Spain.
A few months later, our daughter Sophie was born. I loved her the moment I saw her. But truth be told, there wasn’t much harmony at home. The biggest problem? My mother-in-law, Margaret. She lived in the next building over and practically moved into our flat. Constant criticism—how I held the baby, how I spoke to my wife, how little I earned. I bit my tongue. For years. Tried to keep the peace for Emily and Sophie.
Then one evening, I came home exhausted from work, only to walk into another row. Margaret was at it again. That’s when I lost it:
“Enough! Why are you never satisfied? Have you ever smiled in your life? Ever said a single kind word?”
She didn’t answer. Just turned and left. I thought, good—maybe she’ll finally think twice. I had no idea what nightmare awaited me the next day.
I came home after work and couldn’t open the door. My key didn’t fit. Beside it sat two suitcases—mine. Took me a moment to realise what was happening. I banged, rang, shouted. Then Margaret’s voice came through the door:
“Take your things and sod off. You won’t see your wife or daughter again.”
I thought it was a joke. It wasn’t. Emily didn’t even come out. A week later, she filed for divorce. No discussion. No chance to explain. I was left with nothing—no family, no answers, no Sophie.
Years passed. I married again. My second wife, Charlotte, gave me a son. I’m happy, I love them, but my heart still aches for Sophie. I pay child support every month without fail. Emily takes the money but won’t let me see her. No photos, no calls, not a single visit.
Why? I don’t know. I never cheated. Never raised a hand. All I did was tell her mother the truth.
And for that—I was erased from my own child’s life.
