When my son and his wife moved in, I thought it would bring our family closer. But soon, my daughter-in-law began changing everything in my house: the furniture, the walls, even the rules. I tried to believe it was harmless, until I discovered what she was really planning all along.
Once you have children, they become the center of your world forever. No matter how old they get or how far they move, being a mother never ends. I told myself I’d get used to the silence when they grew up, but I never really did.
I had two kids – Emily and Mark. Emily lived in another city, called whenever she could, and always sounded warm. Mark, though, disappeared into his marriage.
I tried not to take it personally, but deep down, I blamed his wife, Sophie. From the first time we met, she seemed polite but distant. I’d bring small gifts, compliment her cooking, offer help with their wedding, but she never softened.
I didn’t know why. I never wanted to be the kind of mother-in-law people complain about. I just wanted to stay close to my son.
Now the house that once overflowed with noise felt too big. I even thought about getting a dog, just to have someone waiting for me. My only company was my young neighbor Chloe, who stopped by twice a week to help with errands and chat.
Without her, I’d probably lose my mind. Then one evening, my phone rang and everything changed. When I saw Mark’s name on the screen, I froze.
He hadn’t called in months. “Mom,” he said carefully. “Mark!
Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Listen, Sophie and I were thinking… maybe we could stay with you for a while.”
“Stay with me?”
“Just until we buy our own place. Rent’s expensive, and this would help us save.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Of course! You can move in anytime.”
He sounded surprised. “Thanks, Mom.
That means a lot.”
After we hung up, I sat in the quiet house, smiling. Maybe this was finally my chance to reconnect with him, maybe even with Sophie. All week I cleaned and prepared the guest room.
I bought new bedding, towels, and even baked Mark’s favorite apple pie. When they arrived, I stood on the porch watching the movers carry boxes inside. Mark looked happy to be home; Sophie, as always, seemed unimpressed.
Her eyes swept across the house like she was judging every corner. “I thought we could have dinner together,” I said when everything was unpacked. “Smells nice,” Mark said, smiling tiredly.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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