One night, I rushed from the shower to find my 3-year-old son crying and covered in red paint while my wife sat nearby, glued to her iPad. Frustrated and confused, I soon uncovered a deeper issue: the silent struggle my wife had been facing, one that threatened to break our family apart.
It was a regular evening. My wife sat in the recliner, scrolling like she often did through her iPad. The kids were in bed, or so I thought. I figured it was the perfect time for a long and relaxing shower.
A woman looking at her iPad | Source: Pexels
I heard a faint cry as I stood under the hot water. At first, I ignored it, thinking it was nothing serious. But then, the cry got louder, more desperate.
“Daddy! Daddy!” my 3-year-old son’s voice pierced through the sound of running water.
A child crying in his room | Source: Midjourney
I quickly turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and rushed out. As I passed through the family room, I glanced at my wife. She was still sitting there, glued to her iPad, completely oblivious to the chaos in the other room.
“You couldn’t calm him down?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
She didn’t even look up. “I tried three times,” she said, sounding bored.
A bored woman in a tablet | Source: Pexels
Three times? I shook my head, frustrated, and hurried into my son’s room. I was ready to comfort him, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw next.
The moment I stepped inside, I saw him sitting up in his bed, his little body shaking as he sobbed. “Daddy, I made a mess,” he said between gasps.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I said softly, assuming it was just tears and snot. “We’ll clean it up.”
A scared child looking up | Source: Midjourney
I walked closer and scooped him up. He clung to me tightly, still crying. His face was buried in my shoulder, and I felt wetness dripping down my neck. “Poor guy’s been crying so long,” I thought. But then, something didn’t feel right. His pajamas were too wet.
I laid him back down and grabbed my phone to turn on the flashlight. That’s when I saw it — red everywhere. At first, my heart dropped, thinking it was blood. I froze. But as I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t blood. It was red paint.
A paint palette | Source: Pexels
“Where did this come from?” I whispered, scanning the room. Then I saw the open jar of red paint on the small table near his crib. My wife had been painting animals with him the night before, and somehow, he must’ve knocked the jar over.
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” he cried again, his little hands covered in red.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to stay calm. “It’s just paint. We’ll clean it up.”
A child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney
But the more I looked, the worse it got. The paint had spilled all over his bed, his clothes, and his hair. It was everywhere. And on top of that, I realized he’d wet himself too. My frustration bubbled up. How had my wife not noticed this?
I wiped his face gently and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t Mommy come help you?” I asked softly, trying to piece things together.
He sniffled and looked at me with those big, innocent eyes. “Mommy didn’t check on me. Nobody checked on me.”
An upset child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney
His words stung. I had assumed she’d tried. But now, I wasn’t so sure.
I scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. Something was wrong — more than just spilled paint and wet pajamas.
My son had been left alone, scared and crying, and no one had come. As I bathed him, I couldn’t shake the image of my wife, still sitting in that chair, smiling at whatever was on her screen.
A woman smiling on her couch | Source: Pexels
When we were done, I wrapped him in a towel and headed back to the family room. She hadn’t moved an inch. She didn’t even look up when I walked in.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice low but filled with frustration. “How could you not hear him crying?”
“I told you, I tried three times,” she repeated, her eyes glued to the screen.
“But he said you never checked on him,” I shot back, feeling my anger rise.
A man arguing with his wife | Source: Midjourney
She shrugged, not saying a word.
I stood there, holding our son, dripping with paint and bathwater, feeling like I was standing on the edge of something bigger than just a bad night. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
The tension in the room hung heavy, and I knew this wasn’t over. Something had to change. But what?
A man covering his face with his eyes | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I packed a bag for my son and myself. I wasn’t leaving for good — at least, not yet — but I couldn’t stay in the house. I needed space to figure things out. I didn’t tell my wife much as we left. She barely reacted anyway; she just nodded as if my decision meant nothing.
Once at my sister’s place, I made a call I hadn’t planned. I dialed my mother-in-law. I liked her well enough, but this felt like more than just updating her on a tough situation.
A man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels
I needed answers. Maybe she’d know what was going on with her daughter because I sure didn’t.
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” I started when she picked up. “Something’s not right with your daughter.”
Her voice sounded concerned. “What’s happened? Did you have a fight?”
A woman talking on her phone in her living room | Source: Pexels
I sighed. “It’s more than that. She ignored our son last night, left him crying and covered in paint. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but it’s not just one bad night. She’s… distant. Uncaring. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
My mother-in-law listened carefully, and then after a long pause, she said, “I’ll come over. Let me talk to her.”
A few days later, she called me back. Her voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.
A serious woman typing on her phone | Source: Pexels
“I spoke to her,” she said. “She finally opened up. It’s not you or the baby. It’s depression.”
That word hit me like a ton of bricks. Depression? I had never really thought of that. I had been so focused on my frustration, my anger at her behavior, that I didn’t stop to consider that something deeper was going on.
A sad man realizing his mistake | Source: Midjourney
“She’s been struggling for a while now,” her mother continued. “The pressure of motherhood, losing time for herself, for her art. It’s been overwhelming for her. She feels trapped, like she’s lost who she is.”
I stood there, stunned. I had no idea she was feeling this way. How could I? She never said anything.
“She’s agreed to see a therapist,” her mother added. “But she’s going to need your support. This won’t be easy.”
A mature woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Support. That word echoed in my mind. I had been angry, ready to walk away, but now I had to think about what my wife was really going through. This wasn’t about neglecting our son out of laziness or disinterest. It was deeper than that. And now, I had to figure out how to help her.
While staying with my son, I started to see things differently. Taking care of him on my own wasn’t just hard — it was exhausting.
An exhausted man with his son | Source: Midjourney
Every day was a blur of diapers, tantrums, and trying to keep him entertained. There was barely a moment to breathe, let alone think. By the time I put him to bed, I was drained, both physically and mentally.
I thought about how my wife had been doing this daily for years without a break. She’d put her art aside to take care of our family, but in doing that, she lost a part of herself. The weight of motherhood had quietly crushed her spirit, and I hadn’t noticed.
A sad blonde woman | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, things slowly started to change. My wife began seeing a therapist. At first, I wasn’t sure if it would help. She was quiet after her sessions, not saying much about what they talked about. But as time passed, I noticed small changes in her.
One day, she called me while I was out with our son. Her voice cracked over the phone.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Can you come home?” she asked. “I need to talk to you.”
When I walked in the door, she was sitting on the couch, looking tired but different somehow. There was something softer in her face, something I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten. I was so lost in my own world, in my head, that I didn’t see what it was doing to you or to our son.”
A sad woman in her phone | Source: Midjourney
I sat down next to her, unsure of what to say. She kept talking.
“The therapist is helping. I know it’ll take time, but I want to be better. Not just for me, but for us. For him.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw the person I had fallen in love with.
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Midjourney
Over the following months, things continued to improve. She started painting again, slowly at first. Her mother would come over and watch our son while she spent a couple of hours in her art studio, reconnecting with the part of herself she had neglected for so long.
“I forgot how much I love this,” she told me one evening, showing me a canvas she had been working on. “It feels good to create again.”
A woman with her painting | Source: Midjourney
Her bond with our son also started to heal. I’d catch them reading together or her teaching him how to draw simple shapes with crayons. The distance that had once separated them was closing, bit by bit. He seemed happier too, more settled, as if he could sense that Mommy was really back.
Our family wasn’t perfect, but we were healing. Together.
A happy family | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
In-Laws Kicked Us Out of the House They Gifted After We Paid for Renovations — Then It Got Even Worse
When Mike’s parents offer him and his family a home, they are over the moon. Mike and Maria have a growing family, and they need the extra space. So, they venture into renovations, making the house a home. But one day, Mike’s parents called, wanting their home back.
When my in-laws offered us a house, we thought it was a dream come true. With three kids and a tight budget, any help came as a blessing.
A close-up of a house | Source: Midjourney
But, let me be honest with you: the house was far from ideal.
“It’s in the middle of nowhere, Mike,” I told my husband when we were sitting on the couch talking about the possibility of moving into the house.
“It’s miles away from the kids’ school and our jobs! We’ll have to leave a lot earlier just to make it on time,” I said, sighing.
A couple sitting on a couch and talking | Source: Midjourney
“I know, Maria,” my husband said. “It irritates me to think that the nearest grocery store is about twenty minutes away. But I don’t want to be ungrateful.”
And I understood that. In fact, their gift had come at the perfect moment. We had outgrown our little two-bedroomed house. It was now cluttered, and our three kids had to share one bedroom.
A cluttered bedroom | Source: Midjourney
“We’ll do it for the kids,” I said, taking his hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work for them.”
“Think of it as a fresh start, kids,” Mike’s mom said when we went over to their home for dinner. “You’ll love the peace and quiet, and the kids will have a lot of space to run about in. This is going to be good for you.”
“Yes, Mom,” Mike said. “We agree with you. We’re looking forward to this new start and just going on a journey together as a family.”
A family sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
The house itself was a fixer-upper, to put it mildly. There was an entire to-do list of things that needed to be done. The house needed a new kitchen, the wiring needed to be updated, and the bathrooms needed an overhaul.
We knew it would be a big project, but at the end of the day, Mike and I wanted this house to be the home our children grew up in.
“The yard is so big, honey,” Mike told me. “Can you imagine all the birthday parties and even having our kids getting married from here? I love it.”
We poured all our savings into renovating it, making it not just livable but a true home for our family. Our children deserved it.
An outdoor birthday party set up | Source: Midjourney
As things were falling into place, Mike, the tech enthusiast, even set up a state-of-the-art smart home system.
“At least it’s ours,” Mike said, smiling as he showed me how the new system worked. “It finally feels like home.”
A few months went by, and we were settled into our new home. The children adapted beautifully, and Mike and I got closer as a couple. We went on long walks together, and the kids went on picnics together all the time.
Our family had grown closer together.
A picnic set up | Source: Midjourney
Then, last month, my in-laws dropped a bombshell. They decided to sell their current house and buy a lakeside cabin. To fund this new venture, they needed our house back.
What? How? This had become our home.
We were absolutely stunned. They insisted that although they had gifted it to us, they still had a right to take it back. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.
“They can’t do this,” Mike fumed, pacing our newly renovated kitchen. “We have a letter from them saying it was a gift!”
A shocked couple | Source: Midjourney
My husband and I couldn’t believe it. We had a written letter from them, clearly stating that the house was a gift. We decided to fight back, hiring a lawyer to help us navigate this sudden crisis.
We provided all the documents, receipts, and the gift letter. We were convinced that there had to be some legal ground we could stand on.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Mike said one morning when we were having our coffee together. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to find another place and uproot the kids again. This isn’t fair!”
A stack of paper | Source: Midjourney
Weeks passed as we waited for a resolution. But I was just getting more agitated as the days went on. Mike told me not to do anything until the lawyer got back to us. But I couldn’t wait.
I couldn’t sit back and do nothing while we waited for our home to be taken away from us. So, I spent hours looking at rentals available in the area. I just needed to have options available on hand.
I didn’t know what was coming. And I couldn’t believe that Mike’s parents would willingly put us in this situation.
A woman using a phone | Source: Unsplash
But then, the lawyer did eventually get back to us.
He walked up our driveway expressionless, which immediately made me think that there was no good news coming.
“I’m afraid there’s not much we can do,” he said. “The property was never legally transferred into your names. The documents show them as the legal owners. So, I’m sorry, but Mike’s parents are the owners.”
A man in a suit walking | Source: Midjourney
The news was devastating.
I felt my entire stomach drop.
Mike, furious and heartbroken, suggested we undo all the renovations out of spite.
“They used us,” he said bitterly. “We should take back everything we put into this place.”
But I couldn’t bear the thought. Despite everything, we couldn’t stoop to that level.
“We’re better than that,” I said. “We’ll find another place and make it ours.”
An expressionless woman | Source: Midjourney
So, we packed our belongings and moved into a tiny apartment closer to the city.
It was cramped, but it felt like a fresh start, free from the manipulation of my in-laws.
The kids adjusted surprisingly well, finding new friends and enjoying the proximity to their school and activities.
“I feel like we failed our children,” I told Mike when we were unpacking our kitchen items. “I just hate that they have to share a room again. And bunk beds? You know they hate this!”
“I know, my love,” Mike said. “But it’s just for now. The moment we can move to something better, we will. I promise you.”
A small apartment | Source: Midjourney
Just when we thought that the drama was over, my in-laws reached out to us again. They were struggling with the smart home system Mike had set up.
“We can’t figure out how to use the lights, let alone the heating!” Mike’s dad complained over the phone. “Can’t you come back and help us out here?”
The irony wasn’t lost on us.
An elderly man using a phone | Source: Midjourney
We had made that house livable and even comfortable, pouring our money and energy into it. Now, they were reaping the benefits of our hard work, but they were clueless about managing the systems we installed.
Despite their pleas, there was no way that we were going back.
“No,” Mike said firmly. “The house wasn’t right for us. We’re staying where we are.”
A man holding his phone | Source: Midjourney
The trust was shattered, and the house, with all its tech features, was a constant reminder of the betrayal. Living in the cramped apartment wasn’t easy, but we found solace in the fact that we were free from emotional manipulation.
“This isn’t going to be forever, Maria,” Mike said. “I promise you. I’ll fix this.”
A couple embracing | Source: Midjourney
The experience left us wary of gifts that come with strings attached. We learned that sometimes, what seems like a generous gesture can be a way for others to control your life.
As for my in-laws, they eventually figured out the smart home system, but the damage was done. Our relationship with them has changed irrevocably.
“Please, come over for dinner,” Mike’s mother said. “We miss you guys, and we miss the kids terribly.”
An older woman using a phone | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Eileen,” I said. “But we’re just so hurt. And you should have known better. You’re a mother; you know how important it is for kids to have stability. And you and Derek took that away from us.”
“Calm down, please, Maria,” she said.
“No, because I don’t think you understand the extent of our wounds. Mike is so disappointed in you both.”
Without another word, Eileen cut the call.
“Oh, well,” I said to myself as I started chopping vegetables for dinner. Mike and the kids would be home soon.
A woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Accidentally Found Out My Friend’s Husband Was Cheating – I Couldn’t Help but Take My Revenge
Allison decides to hold onto her youthful side as she drives a taxi during her spare time. But one day, her friend’s husband is her passenger. As she takes the man to his destination, he asks for a detour, revealing a side of him she didn’t know. Next, Allison has to decide whether to be good at her job and protect her friend or help show her the truth.
Driving a taxi at 65 years old wasn’t part of my retirement plan, but it became my passion. I had been a writer for a women’s column for the better part of my career, and since retirement dawned, I only wrote a few articles per month.
A person using a typewriter | Source: Midjourney
“Just something to keep the old clogs working,” my editor, Elena, said when I told her that retirement was knocking on my door. “You don’t have to commit to it, Allison. It can be a freelance role, if that’s what you’d like. But just write for us every so often.”
I agreed, what else did I have to do with my time anyway?
But then, the open road, the hum of the engine, and the stories of my passengers kept me going.
“Mom, why?” my son, Darren, asked me. “Like really? Driving people around?”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“You’ll understand the need to do something freeing when you’re older, son,” I told him. “Let me do this while I still can. And what’s better than enjoying what I do?”
Yesterday was one of those days that I’ll never forget because it reminded me how foul people can be.
The previous day, one of my regulars, Jane, called me. She was a lively 55-year-old woman, and over the years, we had become friends.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Hi, Allison,” she said on the phone. “I need a favor.”
“If it involves those croquettes with the peas that you’re trying to get me to eat, it’s a hard pass,” I chuckled. “What do you need?”
“Mike is leaving on a trip tomorrow, and he needs a ride to the airport. I’m going to be babysitting the grandbaby, so I don’t want to disturb her routine.”
People at an airport | Source: Midjourney
Read the full story here.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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