Oliver left her with their little daughter and walked away. But when her mother-in-law came to gloat, Emma…
Emma couldnt settle. Little Sophie had fallen asleep in her arms, yet she still lingered by the window, staring into the courtyard. An hour had passed since shed last seen Olivers car.
Just a few hours earlier, her beloved husband had returned from work. Emma had been in the kitchen, waiting, but he never joined her. When she stepped into the living room, she found him packing his bags.
«Where are you going?» she asked, bewildered.
«Im leaving. Im leaving you for the woman I love.»
«Oliver, are you joking? Did something happen at work? Are you going on a business trip?»
«Why cant you understand? Im tired of you. All you think about is Sophieyou dont even notice me anymore. You dont take care of yourself.»
«Dont shoutyoull wake Sophie.»
«See? There you go again, only thinking about her. Your husband is walking out, and you»
«A real man wouldnt abandon his wife and child,» Emma said quietly before retreating to her daughters room.
She knew Olivers temper. If she continued, it would only escalate into a row. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let him see them. She scooped Sophie from her cot and carried her to the kitchen. He wouldnt followthere was nothing of his to take.
Through the window, she watched him drive away without a glance back. Yet Emma couldnt tear herself from the pane, half-hoping his car would reappear, that hed laugh it off as a stupid joke. But the street remained empty.
She didnt sleep all night. There was no one to call, no one to share her heartbreak with. Her mother had never been much of a parent, thrilled when Emma married and promptly forgetting about her. To Laura, there had only ever been one childEmmas younger brother. She had friends, but they were mothers like her, probably asleep by now. What could they possibly do to help?
Emma finally dozed at dawn. She tried calling Oliver, but he rejected the call and texted back: *Dont contact me again.*
Sophie stirred, whimpering. Emma hushed her gently. She couldnt fall apart now. He was goneso be it. She had her daughter to care for. She needed to plan how to survive.
Checking her wallet and bank balance, she nearly panicked. Even if she begged the landlady for a five-day extension on the rent until her benefits came through, it wouldnt be enough. And they still needed groceries. She couldve taken remote work, but Oliver had taken his laptop.
She had two weeks left in the flat to figure something out. Time was slipping away.
But after calling every contact, she realised no one would hire her with a toddler. Even a cleaning job required someone to watch Sophie for hoursand she had no one. Moving to a cheaper place wouldnt help either; their current flat was already dirt-cheap. Her only option was her parents house. But shed delayed settling down, while her brother married young. He lived there with his wife and their twins. Five people crammed into a two-bedroom flatadding her and Sophie would be impossible.
Emma told the landlady shed move out when the rent ran out. She paced, restless. Shed considered shared housing, but the places shed seen were grim. She messaged Oliver, pleading for child support, but he didnt replylikely blocking her.
Five days before moving, she packed their meagre belongings, needing the distraction. Then the doorbell rang.
Standing there was Margarether mother-in-law.
*What fresh trouble is this?* Emma thought, stepping aside.
Their relationship had always been strainedpolite smiles masking mutual dislike. From their first meeting, Margaret had made it clear Emma wasnt good enough for her son. Shed scoffed at Emmas cooking («fit for pigs») and, when Sophie was born, accused Emma of infidelity, claiming the baby «wasnt their blood.» Only at six months did Margaret soften, recognising Olivers features in Sophie.
Oliver had brushed it off: «Mum raised me aloneshes just protective.» Emma endured it, never asking for help. Now, here Margaret stood, post-abandonment. Probably here to twist the knife.
Emma barely cared anymore.
Margarets sharp voice snapped her from her thoughts.
«Pack your things. You dont belong here.»
«Margaret, I dont understand.»
«Whats to understand? Youre coming with me.»
«To *your* house?»
«Where else? Your mothers, with that zoo of a household?»
«You know about that?»
«Of course I do. That fool only told me today. Ive a three-bedroom house. Theres space.»
Emma had no choice. *In for a penny…*
At Margarets, fear gave way to cautious relief. A room waited for her and Sophie. After unpacking and settling the baby, Emma hesitantly joined Margaret in the kitchen.
«Emma, I know weve never been close. But try to understandand forgive me, if you can.»
«You just wanted the best for your son.»
«Best? Dont flatter me,» Margaret scoffed. «I was selfish. Today, he called and told me everything. Forgive me for raising such a son. I dont know where I went wrong. His father left when Oliver was three months old. He *knew* how hard it is for a mother alone. Yet he repeated that cowards mistake. Stay as long as you need.»
Emma never imagined Margaret would side with her. Words failed heronly tears fell.
«None of that,» Margaret said sternly.
«Its gratitude.»
«Save it. Consider it my penance. Well manage. Roof over our heads, at least. When you find work, Ill mind Sophie.»
From then, they were inseparable. Margarets sharp edges remained, but she softened, offering advice instead of criticism.
Today was Sophies first birthday. The room glittered with balloons, and an apple pie sat proudly on the table. Sophie toddled toward the balloons.
«Emma, lookher first steps!» Margaret beamed, scooping Sophie up after she plopped down, deciding walking was overrated.
As they sat to eat, the doorbell rang. Margaret answeredand froze. Oliver stood there, a strange woman beside him.
«Hi, Mum,» he said airily, stepping inside.
«Well, this is a surprise. Five months silent, and now you turn up?»
«Cant I visit?»
«With *her*? Whos this?»
«Mum, this is Angela. Were moving in. Rents too high.»
«Moving in? No room here.»
«Youre not alone?»
«None of your business if I were. Watch your tone.»
Oliver barged pastand froze at the sight of Emma and Sophie at the festive table.
«Son, youre not welcome. Were busy.»
«Whats *she* doing here?»
«Your *wife*, legally, until tomorrows divorce hearingwhich youll skip, as usual. Todays your daughters birthday. Forgotten, have you?»
«I thought we were divorced already. And how do I know shes mine?»
«If youd bothered visiting, youd know. Doesnt matter. Emma and Sophie live here now. Traitors dont. Doubt paternity? Go aheadwaste money on a DNA test. Now leave.»
«Mum, if I walk out now, its for good.»
Margaret said nothing. She pointed to the door.
Later, after Sophie slept, Emma approached her.
«Are you alright? Should I go? Hes your son.»
«He is. But you dont treat a child like that. Wives come and gochildren dont. He knew our struggles. I wont forgive him till he learns.»
Four years later…
«Emma, how long will you hide this man from me?»
Emma blushed. She hadnt realised Margaret knew.
«Stop acting like a schoolgirl. Introduce us.»
«You dont mind?»
«As long as hes good to you and Sophie.»
Margaret attended Emma and Daniels wedding. She approvedhe was responsible, clearly adored Emma, and treated Sophie well.
«Dont think Ill stop helping with Sophie,» Margaret said at the reception.
«Mum, Id never expect that. She adores you.»
When Emma and Daniel had a son, Margaret declared him her grandson too. No one arguedEmma had long seen her as family, closer than her own mother.
Oliver married Angela. They moved away. Margaret heard through relatives he was doing well. Hed hurt her, but he was still her son. Shed keep an eye on him.
But now she had a daughter in Emmaand two grandchildren. For now. She hoped for more. There was plenty of love left to give.
