13October2025 Hyde Park, London
The shrill cry rang out, sharp as a winter wind. I didnt flinch; that voice has become a familiar nuisance over the past months. My exmotherinlaw, Agnes, never seems to pick a better moment to appear.
Emma turned slowly, clutching our eightmonthold son, Jack, who was snug in his warm onesie, breathing softly against her chest. The park was almost empty on a weekday, only a handful of commuters hurrying along the paths, coats buttoned up against the chill.
Good morning, Agnes, Emma said coolly.
Agnes brushed off the greeting as if swatting a fly. Her face was flushed with irritation and the cold. She stepped closer, lips pressed, eyes fixed on the baby.
What are you doing? she snapped, her tone dripping with outrage. Do you realise how reckless you are? Its freezing out there! Jack is barely dressed! Hell catch his death of cold! Do you want him to fall ill?
Emma glanced at Jack. He wore a thick bunting suit, a knitted cap, a scarfeverything the weather demanded.
Its only eight degrees, Agnes. Hes dressed appropriately, Emma replied.
Appropriately? Agnes moved another foot forward. Do you even know how a child should be held? Youll ruin his posture, make him a hunchback! Hes already so thinare you starving him?
Emma clenched her jaw. Jack was perfectly healthy; the paediatrician praised his development at each visit. Yet Agnes pressed on.
Those endless walks of yours! she continued, never pausing. Twohour outings in the wind! Do you enjoy tormenting him? He needs warmth and rest, not a gale in his face! Mothertobe
Emma shifted Jack to her other arm. He twitched, opened his eyes briefly, then fell back asleep.
Agnes, lets not Emma began.
Not? Agnes interrupted, eyes flashing. Lets talk then! You know nothing about raising children! Ive brought up three of my own, and you think youve got it sorted after one baby? Youre so clever, arent you?
Inside Emmas chest tightened. This torrent of accusations was all too familiar. Every visit from Agnes turned into a courtroom, every encounter a living nightmare.
And you, Agnes stepped even closer, are the one to blame! You shattered the family! My son was happy until you turned his life into a circus! You drove him away, stripped our child of a father! All because of you!
Emma froze. The words hung in the air like a cold fog. Was she really to blame for the breakup?
We should be going, she whispered, turning away.
Running from me? Agnes shouted, following her. Youve ruined my sons life! And his childs too!
Emma quickened her pace, her legs carrying her away from the park, away from the accusations. Jack stirred but did not wake. Agnes shrieks faded behind her. Only when the distance was enough did Emma breathe out, hands trembling, heart pounding in her throat. How could Agnes dare to lay the blame on her?
Memories crashed back. That night in the flat, the door left ajar a little too early. My exhusband, Simon, and his new partner in the bedroom we once shared.
Emma didnt scream or weep then. She simply began packing Simons things. He tried to apologise, muttering about mistakes, about it doesnt matter. Emma pointed to the door in silence. Three days later she filed for divorce.
Two weeks after that she discovered she was pregnant and told the stillpresent Simon.
Agnes stormed into the flat the next day, pounding on the door until Emma opened it.
Cancel the divorce! she roared from the threshold. What are you doing? Youre pregnant! The child needs both parents! You must forgive my son! Youre not in the right position, dear!
Emma leaned against the wall, exhausted, while Agnes went on:
All men err, thats what makes them men. But youre a womanyou must forgive, think of the family, think of the child!
What child? Emma whispered. The one wholl be ashamed of his father?
Shame? Agnes fumed. You should be ashamed! Youre tearing the family apart out of pride! Selfinterest! You imagine what its like for a child to grow up without a dad? You think an affair is some romantic tragedy? For the sake of a child, youd turn a blind eye to anything!
Emma closed her eyes.
Agnes, please leave, she said.
I wont go! Agnes stamped her foot. I wont leave until you change your mind! Youre being stubborn! Youre ruining your childs future!
Emma never withdrew the divorce. The court seal broke the tie with Simon, and soon after Jack was borntiny, warm, hers alone.
She never claimed child support. Simon never signed anything, making it clear he wanted nothing to do with the boy. Emma worked from home, earning a decent salary. Her mother helped when she needed a break. She demanded nothing from Simons family, not even a penny. He never called to ask how the baby was, whether it was a boy or a girl, or if the child was healthy. From the start it was obvious hed moved on.
Agnes, however, kept prying from every angle. She turned up at the maternity ward uninvited, bouquet in hand.
What did you name him? she asked as Emma emerged with the newborn.
Jack, Emma replied.
Agnes face twisted.
Jack? Why not Charlie, after my father? I told you
You told me, Agnes, but this is my son and I named him as I wish.
Agnes pursed her lips, said nothing, and left.
Then came the relentless visitsfive times a week, no call, no warning, just a knock and a demand to see her grandson. She offered endless advice on feeding, swaddling, bathing, bedtime, holding, and strolling.
Emma endured, nodded, and did what she thought best. One day she finally snapped.
Enough, Agnes! she shouted as the motherinlaw criticised the formula Emma had chosen. Stop telling me what to do! This is my child! I know how to care for him!
Agnes went pale, then flushed a deep red.
Youre shouting at me? she hissed.
Yes, I am! Emma held her gaze. I cant take it any longer! You come every day and berate me, accuse me, criticize everything! Im fed up!
Agnes turned and stalked out, stomping. After that she came less oftentwice a weekbut each visit still felt like torture.
Tonight there was no peace in the street. I walked up the flat, the hallway quiet, the flat warm. I laid Jack in his cot, slipped off my coat, and sank onto the sofa. Agness words echoed in my head: You destroyed the family. It was my father who had shattered their plans, not Emma. She only wanted to raise her child. What was wrong with that?
Jack breathed softly, a small smile crossing his face. I brushed the blanket and whispered, Its all right, love. Its as it should be.
Two weeks passed in a calm hush. Agnes did not show, did not call. I began to think she might finally have given up. Then, Saturday morning, a sharp knock rattled the door.
I opened it to find Agnes standing there, eyes bright.
Hello, she said, stepping straight into the flat.
I barely managed a greeting before she darted into the nursery where Jack was playing on the carpet. She knelt, cooing, My little bunny, my sweet boy!
I followed, arms crossed, and asked, Whats going on?
She turned, smiling broadly. Tomorrows christening! Ive arranged everythingchurch, godparents, the whole lot!
I stared at her, stunned. What?
The christening, tomorrow at two oclock. Ive picked a lovely parish, found excellent godparents. Its all set.
I stepped forward, voice firm. You cant decide when my sons christening will be!
Agnes straightened, smile hardening. I can. Who else would decide? You, little lady?
Its my child! I snapped. Im his mother!
You? she scoffed. Youre young and foolish! You know nothing! I have experience! Youll never raise him right on your own! Youre not up to it.
A fire flared inside me, burning through months of hurt, humiliation, and contempt.
You have no right to be here! Not a single reason! I shouted.
Agnes took a step back, stunned. How can you say that? Hes my grandson!
He isnt on any official record! I retorted, moving toward her. My sons birth certificate lists no father. Legally, you have no grandson! Until that changes, stay away.
Her face turned ashen, her lips trembling with rage.
Youre kicking me out? she whispered.
Yes, I said, resolute. Leave now.
She snatched her bag and fled. Jack began to wail. I lifted him, pressed him close, and murmured, Its alright, love. Its alright.
A week of silence followed. Then another knock.
I opened the door to find two figures: Agnes and Simon, looking weary and irritated. Agnes clutched Simon by the elbow as if afraid hed bolt.
Hello, Emma, Simon muttered, eyes low.
Agnes shoved Simon forward into the flat. I barely stopped them. She thrust him into the nursery.
Look! she cried, pointing at Jack. Hes your son! You must legally become his father! You owe him!
Simon glanced at the baby, then turned away.
I leaned against the doorway, watching Simons stubborn stare. I knew what to do.
Ill apply for child support, I said evenly.
Simon flinched, turned to face me. What?
Child support, I repeated. You earn well, Simon. The court will award me a fair sum.
His expression twisted into anger. I dont want this child. Leave me alone! Im done!
He stormed out, Agnes shouting after him, Simon! Simon, wait! Because of you I cant see my grandson!
Dont care! his voice echoed from the stairwell. I dont give a toss about you or the child!
I closed the door, picked up Jack, who reached for me with tiny hands. A faint smile tugged at my lips. The plan had worked. Simon truly wanted nothing to do with his son, and Agnes finally had nowhere to stand.
Everything fell into place as I had hoped. I could finally breathe.
Lesson learned: when people cling to control out of spite, the only remedy is to set firm boundaries and trust that justice, though slow, will eventually catch up.
