19October2025
It’s your motherso it’s your responsibility! he shouted, yet she had had enough. I watched my wife, Blythe Baker, button up our sons coat, clenching her teeth to keep the anger at bay. Today, once again, she would have to face the ordeal she dreaded most: a visit to her motherinlaw. From the start, their relationship had been a constant battle.
Margaret Thompson had never accepted Blythe as her sons wife. No matter what Blythe did, Margaret always found a fault, always a criticism to hurl.
Again, Blythe? Jamesmyselfsaid, noticing the tight set of her jaw. You dont want to go, do you?
Blythe let out a bitter laugh.
Are you really asking me that, James? You know exactly why I dont want to go!
Her eyes flared.
Shell start nitpicking again, put me down, say Im not raising our boy properly! And she seems to forget that I work, run the house, cook, clean, and pay every bill. Im the one holding this family together!
Yet youre at home all day, I replied, shrugging.
Her stare grew colder.
Oh really? You think I just sit around doing nothing? As if money falls from the sky?
I work too, I growled. Its not my fault Im not paid more.
The truth was that Blythe, as a freelance designer, earned three times what I did. She was the main breadwinner.
Cant you go alone? she asked, hoping for a way out.
Blythe, its Mothers Day! You cant ignore my mother! I said, sighing, and finished dressing our son. Two hours later we were at Margarets house in York.
In the sitting room, Jamess niece, Lucy Harper, was already there. Blythe had long noticed that Margaret favoured Lucy, treating her like royalty while barely acknowledging her own grandson. It wasnt a surprise; Lucys parents had died five years ago, and Margaret had raised her as her own.
Around them, Margarets sisters laughed loudly, clinking their glasses of wine.
Then, abruptly, Margaret dropped a bomb.
Ive made a decision, she announced solemnly. I will bequeath my flat to Lucy. You, James, already have a home.
James didnt flinch; he merely nodded.
A few days later the paperwork was done. The flat would belong to Lucy, on the condition she only moved in after Margarets death.
But fate had other plans. A sudden stroke left Margaret paralysed, unable to care for herself.
We have to move in with Mom, James declared firmly. She cant be left alone.
A cold wave ran through me. I knew what that meant. Blythe would have to feed, clothe, bathe her, all while working and looking after our son.
She said nothing.
Weeks passed, and Blythe reached her limit.
One evening she finally exploded.
James, the flat belongs to Lucy. Shouldnt she be looking after Mom?
Lucy is at university, James, and she has a boyfriend. Do you want her bringing him here?
Blythe let out a dry, icy laugh.
James, I cant take this any longer!
He crossed his arms.
Oh, I see. Youre already exhausted?
Her hands trembled with fury.
Im suffocating! Everything rests on me! You, your mother, our child, my job I CANT HOLD ON MUCH LONGER!
But you work from home, he muttered, smug.
Blythes gaze sharpened like shattered glass.
And then? You think I dont really work?
Her heart hammered.
You know what? From now on youre the one who looks after your mother!
Its my mother, but shes also your motherinlaw! Thats your role! You want me to wash her, perhaps?
A deadly silence fell.
Blythes voice turned calm and icy.
I owe you nothing.
James chuckled.
In that case, hire a care worker!
Oh? Youll pay for her?
Why should I be the one to pay?
No caretaker then.
He crossed his arms again.
You can use your mothers pension. Or your salary?
Jamess face hardened.
So why do I even have a wife?
That was the trigger. Something inside Blythe finally shattered. Everything became blindingly clear. James had been using her for years.
And Lucy? She hadnt even bothered to visit her grandmother.
That night Blythe didnt sleep. By morning she knew what she had to do.
The moment James left the house, she packed her bags, took our son, and left. She sent one short message and blocked his number:
I will no longer carry this burden alone.
Later that evening James burst in, furious.
Either you come back, or Ill file for divorce!
Blythe smiled softly.
Go ahead. I was just about to.
For the first time James looked genuinely lost. She didnt wait for an apology. Her decision was set.
A month later the divorce was final. James never offered an apology.
And Blythe?
She never regretted walking away.
Six months on, I learned the news.
Margaret had died.
And Lucy?
She threw James out without a hint of remorse.
Only then did he realise hed lost everything.
Lesson learned: when partnership turns into servitude, the only way to survive is to recognise your own worth and walk away before youre no longer yourself.
