My mother-in-law, Eliza, spent years making my life miserable. No matter what I did, it was never enough. I tried everything—smiling when I wanted to scream, offering help only to be brushed aside, asking about her favorite things and memories with Mark. I hoped for some kind of connection, a little peace, maybe even friendship.
But every attempt ended the same way. “Mark’s ex never did it this way,” she’d say. Or worse, “You’re doing everything wrong. Mark will leave you soon.” And the final, cruelest jab: “Maybe you should find someone else and stop ruining my son’s life.”
After hearing such things repeatedly, I gave up. I thought ignoring her might help, but it only made things worse.
“You don’t respect me,” she accused. “You’re trying to turn my son against me.” And then, the words that cut deeper than all the others: “You’re a cold witch.”
That one stayed with me.
Despite this, I still prepared our home for her arrival. For two weeks, I cleaned every inch—scrubbing floors, washing windows, dusting every surface. My back ached, but I refused to leave her a single thing to criticize. No crumbs, no fingerprints, not even a slightly crooked picture frame.
“Are you ready?” Mark asked, grabbing his keys to head to the airport.
“I’m never ready,” I sighed. “But I always manage.”
“It’ll be fine,” he said, giving me a quick kiss.
Fine. Sure. It had been fine before, and it would be fine again—once she left. I just had to survive a few days. Especially now, when we had big news to share.
I was five months pregnant. After several heartbreaking losses, we had waited until we were sure everything was okay before telling anyone.
The front door opened. Instinctively, I placed a hand on my belly—a quiet, protective move. Even before birth, I was already shielding my child from this woman.
“Welcome,” I said, forcing a smile.
Eliza stepped inside, took off her coat, and immediately glanced down at the floor. “Oh, Leah, you’re home. You could have at least put your shoes away. They’re right in the middle of the hallway.”
I looked down. My sneakers were neatly by the door, not in the middle of anything. But I knew it wouldn’t matter.
“I guess I didn’t have time,” I said, keeping my voice calm.
“Some people just never learn,” she muttered. “Maybe you’ll learn one day. Maybe.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away. Mark entered behind her, immediately sensing the tension.
“Can I get you some tea, Mom?” he asked.
“Yes, I would love that,” she said sweetly to him before turning to me. “So you’re not even going to make your mother-in-law a cup of tea?”
“Mark offered,” I replied. “He knows how to make tea.”
“You’re a woman, Leah. You should be doing it. That’s just how it is.”
I sat up straighter. “We live in the 21st century. Women are not servants. I’m not less of a wife because I didn’t make tea.”
Eliza crossed her arms. “I didn’t say you were a servant. I just thought maybe, once in your life, you’d show some respect.”
I sighed. “Fine. Believe whatever you want.”
Mark returned with the teapot and two cups, placing them down. Then he sat beside me and took my hand. “Mom, we have something to tell you,” he said.
“You’re getting divorced?” she asked, smiling like that would be the best news she’d ever heard.
I groaned, rubbing my face. “No,” Mark said firmly. “We’re having a baby.”
Eliza gasped. “Oh! A grandchild? I’m going to be a grandmother!”
She jumped up and hugged Mark, then, to my shock, she hugged me too. It was the first time she had ever hugged me. And then, something even stranger happened—she was sweet for the rest of the day. Not one insult. Not one complaint. It felt…wrong.
That night, she approached me. “I want you to come on a retreat,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I already booked it. We leave tomorrow.”
“What? Seriously?”
She didn’t answer. She just walked away.
I fumed all night, pacing the house, complaining to Mark. “She didn’t ask! She just decided! Like always!”
“Maybe she wants to fix things,” Mark suggested. “Maybe, now that you’re pregnant, she wants a fresh start.”
“This baby does not erase everything she’s done,” I snapped.
Mark put his arms around me. “Go,” he said gently. “Try it. If it’s too much, come home.”
The next morning, I drove in silence while Eliza stared out the window. When we arrived, she sat up straighter, frowning. “This doesn’t look like a hotel.”
“It looks like a dump,” I muttered.
Eliza pulled out her phone. “Let me check… Oh. I think I booked the wrong place.”
“You think?” I said.
“Oops,” she said, shrugging. “Too late now.”
That night, as I stepped outside to get my bag from the car, I saw someone approaching Eliza’s door. My heart stopped. It was Catherine—Mark’s ex.
I crept closer and overheard Eliza whispering, “Go talk to Mark. She’ll stay here with me.”
My stomach dropped. I pushed the door open. “Is this why you brought me here? To send Mark his ex?!”
Eliza jumped. “No, Leah, it’s not like that.”
“I heard everything! You never cared about this baby! You just wanted to get rid of me!”
I ran to the car, shaking as I fumbled with the keys. But the engine wouldn’t start. My chest tightened, panic rising. Then came a knock on the window.
It was Eliza. “Come back inside,” she said softly. “Please. Let’s talk.”
“I said no!”
“Think about the baby.”
That hit hard. I sat still, then, reluctantly, opened the door.
Back in the room, Eliza sat across from me, wringing her hands. “I haven’t been a good mother-in-law,” she admitted. “But I finally realized how wrong I’ve been.”
“So you decided to send Mark his ex?” I said bitterly.
“No. Catherine is my doctor.”
I blinked. “Doctor?”
“I’m dying, Leah.”
Silence.
“I have months left. Maybe less. I was going to ask to stay with you, but then you said you were pregnant, and I couldn’t do that to you.”
“You could’ve told me.”
She wiped her eyes. “I wanted to. But I was scared.”
I hesitated, then moved to sit beside her. For the first time, I saw her as something more than my enemy. I saw a scared woman, afraid to die alone.
“Of course you can stay with us,” I said.
Months later, Eliza held her granddaughter, little Eliza, in her arms, beaming with joy. She got to spoil her, to sing to her, to love her—at least for a little while.
And for the first time in years, I was glad she had been part of my life.
