My mother did everything in her power to prevent me from seeing my father after they divorced. But once my dad tricked me on the phone, and everything changed.
“I don’t want to see you ever again!” my mom yelled as my father got into the car and left our home forever. That was my earliest memory. Dad left when I was two years old after a huge fight with my mother.
They got divorced, and I didn’t see him for many years. As I got older, I realized that my mother was preventing me from seeing my father. “I want to visit Dad. Please!” I begged when I was ten years old.
“No! You can’t go see him. He’s busy with his new family and doesn’t want to see you,” she replied.
“I know that’s not true! You’re lying to me! I talk to him on the phone, and he wants to see me!” I cried, pleading with her to see my father.
“Don’t talk back to me, Alexandra! Your father left us and doesn’t deserve to have a relationship with you now,” Mom said. I thought that was unfair, but I was still just a child.
My dad and I kept in constant contact over the phone, but I really wanted to spend time with him, and I knew he wanted the same. However, Mom was an expert at getting her way.
As a teenager, I decided to go on my own to see him, and she called the cops on me. They picked me up before I could reach his house and drove me back home.
“The next time you try to disobey me, I will say that your father kidnapped you, and he will go to jail where he belongs!” she screamed at me when the cops left.
Back then, I thought she was doing the right thing for me, but as I grew up, I realized that it was pure selfishness on her part. I didn’t want to hang out with her or do anything. I also started rebelling at school. She drove a huge wedge between us, and I didn’t care anymore.
“Alexandra, do you want to go shopping with me?” she asked me one day. I was 17 years old and had grown to almost hate her.
“Nope,” I answered.
“How about the movies?”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t you want to do anything with me?” she whined.
“Really? You’re asking me that question? You know exactly why I treat you this way,” I said in a bored tone.
“I have done nothing to you! All the sacrifices I have made for you, and you’re so ungrateful!” Mom yelled once more.
“Yeah, ok. Close the door, please,” I added.
By then, I was immune to her tantrums and how she victimized herself to get away with things. I moved out as soon as I turned 18 and never looked back.
But seeing my dad wasn’t any easier. I had to work two jobs and go to school. He was also busy with work, and his second wife had just delivered twins by then. Neither of us had time, so we put it off.
I met with him on a Saturday afternoon at his house and met his wife. They showed me the twins, and we talked for a while. But it felt so awkward that I didn’t want to do it again. Maybe my mother had ruined any chance I had at a relationship with him.
We talked on the phone for a long time once a week. I asked about the twins and told him about my life. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked for us. Years went by this way. I didn’t hear of my mother until I was 29 years old.
“Hey, Alexandra,” she spoke on the phone tentatively.
“Oh, hey, Mom,” I answered, confused with her call.
“We haven’t talked in a long time. How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine. How about you?” I replied. We chitchatted awkwardly for a few minutes, and then she got to the point.
“Listen, honey. I was hoping that we could work on mending our relationship. How does that sound?” Mom wondered.
“I don’t know. Are you going to apologize for everything?” I retorted.
“I…I still don’t think I did anything wrong. I was trying to protect you from being hurt like I was when you were little. But I understand that you felt differently,” she explained.
“So, you’re not apologizing?” I continued, tired of this conversation. She was never going to acknowledge her wrongs, and I had no time for that.
“Alexandra! I’m your mother. You haven’t talked to me in years! You’re so selfish!” she wailed, raising her voice.
“Ok, goodbye,” I said and hung up the phone. She tried calling me back, but I ignored her. I would not let her back into my life until she apologized.
Another year went by, and I received a strange call from my dad. He never called during working hours. “Alexandra! This is an emergency! Can you come to see me?” Dad said urgently through the phone.
“What? Dad? What’s going on?” I asked, worried.
“I sent you an address. Come quickly! This is a matter of life or death!” he told me and hung up.
I went to my boss, took a day off work, and ran to my car. But the address Dad gave me took me right to an amusement park close to his house.
“Hey, honey!” he smiled when I met him at the front gate.
“Dad! Why are we here? What’s the emergency?” I asked, confused.
“The emergency is that you and I never got to do all the fun things father and daughters do over the years. We have put off building a real relationship, and I don’t want to waste any more time. Let’s go have fun!” Dad explained.
“Can you go on the rides? I know you have had some health problems lately,” I said hesitantly.
“I’m fit as a fiddle. Come on!” he urged.
We spent the entire day at the park and talked about everything. I felt like a child for the first time in my life, and it was wonderful.
I also told him about my problems with Mom and how hard it was when she didn’t let me see him. “Your mother is complicated and full of pride. But she’s not evil. We didn’t work out, and she couldn’t take it,” he started.
“Yeah, I wished I could’ve lived with you,” I told him.
“Well, I was pretty lost for many years trying to figure things out. We might have hated each other. But here we are, and I think you should patch things up with her. Life is too short to hold grudges,” he said.
After that marvelous day at the park, we went to dinner. When I got home, I called Mom and told her everything I felt regarding my dad. How she hurt me back then by not letting me spend time with him and how fun our day had been. She cried and apologized to me for the first time. I felt like she understood, and we started talking more often.
Meanwhile, I grew closer to my dad and loved babysitting my twin half-siblings. We even took them to the amusement park for a fun day too.
I finally had the childhood I always wanted.
What can we learn from this story?
Divorce happens between couples, not with children. Alexandra’s mother didn’t understand that her father divorced her but wanted a relationship with their daughter.
Life is too short for grudges. Alexandra’s father is right. Sometimes, it’s better to forgive for your own sake. Let go of things that make you angry, and your mental health will improve.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
I Visited My In-Laws and Discovered My Mother-in-Law Locked in the Attic – The Reason Left Me Horrified
I looked around. The house was eerily quiet. It wasn’t the cozy place I was used to, filled with the smell of fresh coffee or Sharon’s humming in the kitchen. I pulled out my phone and texted Frank, just to check.
“Hey, I’m here at the house. Where are you guys?”
But today, the key was in the lock.
His response came back almost immediately. “Out with the guys. Sharon’s resting. You can head home if you want.”
Resting? That didn’t sit right with me. Sharon was always the one who jumped up to greet us, even if we’d been there the day before. And resting in the middle of the day? It wasn’t like her at all.
A weird feeling crept into my stomach. I slowly made my way through the house, my voice echoing as I called her name.
“Sharon? Are you okay?”
Still nothing. That’s when I heard a faint tapping sound.
I froze. It was coming from upstairs, somewhere near the attic. My heart started to race as I climbed the stairs. The tapping continued, steady and strange. When I reached the attic door, I stopped cold.
It was always locked. Frank had made it clear — nobody went into the attic. Not even Sharon. It was his space, some kind of personal workshop or storage room, I guessed.
But today, the key was in the lock.
I swallowed hard, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Something about this felt wrong. “Sharon?” I called again, this time my voice barely above a whisper.
No answer, but the tapping stopped.
I hesitated for a moment before turning the key and pushing the door open. And there she was. Sharon, sitting in an old wooden chair in the dim light, looking as though she hadn’t moved in hours. Her usually bright face seemed worn, her smile weak.
“Ruth,” she whispered, startled by my appearance, her voice trembling. “You’re here.”
I rushed over, setting the cookies aside and helping her up. “Sharon, what’s going on? Why are you up here?” My heart was pounding, every instinct telling me that something wasn’t right.
Her eyes darted toward the door, and she opened her mouth to speak, but the words that followed made my blood run cold.
“I uhhh… Frank… locked me in here,” she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
I blinked, shaking my head. “What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why would he do that?”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I reorganized his man cave while he was out. It was getting messy, and I thought I’d surprise him. You know how he gets about his space, but I didn’t think it would upset him this much.”
Sharon let out a weak, forced laugh, but there was no real humor behind it. “When he came home, he lost it. He said if I loved ‘messing with his stuff’ so much, I could spend time up here too. Then he locked the door and told me to ‘think about what I’d done.’”
I was dumbfounded. This wasn’t just Frank getting upset over a room. He locked her up like she was a child being punished. I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Sharon, that’s insane,” I finally said, my voice shaky from the anger building inside me. “You’re his wife, not some kid who broke a rule. He can’t just lock you up because you reorganized his stuff!”
Sharon looked away, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “He didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “He was just angry. You know how he gets.”
I was floored. She said it so calmly, with such resignation, as if this were completely normal. My throat tightened with frustration. I knew Frank could be controlling, but this? This was abuse.
“We’re leaving,” I said, standing up, my voice firm. “You’re not staying here, not with him acting like this.”
Sharon glanced toward the attic door, clearly nervous. “Ruth, maybe I should just go downstairs and apologize. It’s my fault for touching his things. I—”
“Apologize?!” I cut her off, shaking my head. “You did nothing wrong. You don’t deserve to be locked up like this! You’re coming with me, Sharon, and we’ll figure out what to do from there.”
She hesitated, her hands trembling slightly. “But what if he gets angrier? I don’t want to make things worse.”
“He doesn’t get to decide how you live your life, Sharon,” I said, my voice softening. “This isn’t about him anymore. It’s about you. You don’t have to keep tiptoeing around him like this.”
She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. But then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
We didn’t waste any time. I helped Sharon pack a small bag with a few of her things. She was nervous the whole time, glancing at the door like Frank might burst in any second. But as soon as we stepped outside, I could see her shoulders relax a little like she was finally starting to breathe again.
As we drove back to my house, I kept glancing over at her. She looked exhausted, like she’d been carrying this emotional baggage for years, and was only just now setting it down.
“Are you okay?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She gave me a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think so. I don’t really know what’s next.”
“Whatever it is,” I said, “you don’t have to face it alone.”
Later that evening, after I helped Sharon settle into the guest room, my phone started buzzing on the table. Frank’s name flashed on the screen.
I nodded and ignored the call. A few minutes later, the messages started coming in.
“Where’s Sharon? Bring her back now! She’s my wife, and she belongs here with me.”
I rolled my eyes and put the phone down, trying to keep my anger in check. But it was getting harder by the second. When Bryce came home from work, I pulled him aside, trying to explain everything as calmly as I could.
“She was locked in the attic, Bryce,” I said quietly, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to stay composed. “Frank… he just left her there.”
Bryce’s face darkened. “What the hell?” he muttered, his fists clenching. “Are you serious?”
I nodded, watching as his anger grew. “She’s in the guest room now, but Frank keeps calling, demanding I send her back.”
Bryce didn’t waste any time. He grabbed his phone and dialed his father’s number, pacing back and forth in the living room as it rang.
I could hear Frank’s voice through the speaker as soon as he picked up.
“Where’s your mother? She needs to come back home. I’m not done teaching her—”
“Teaching her what, Dad?” Bryce cut him off, his voice shaking with anger. “What lesson are you trying to teach by locking her in the attic like a prisoner? You’re out of your mind!”
Frank’s voice dropped, trying to explain, trying to justify. “It wasn’t like that, son. She messed with my things. She needed to—”
“I don’t care if she moved every single thing you own!” Bryce shouted, his face red with fury. “You don’t lock her up. That’s not how you treat someone, especially your wife!”
Frank tried to talk over him, but Bryce wasn’t having it. “You’re lucky I’m not coming over there right now because if I did, I don’t think it’d end well for you.”
He hung up the phone and let out a frustrated sigh, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe he did this,” he muttered. “I never thought he’d go this far.”
I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “You did the right thing, standing up to him.”
Bryce shook his head. “It shouldn’t have to be like this, Ruth. I shouldn’t have to stand up to my own father.”
The next morning, while Bryce was at work, Frank showed up at our door. His face was red, and he was fuming. “Where is she?” he demanded. “She needs to come back. She has responsibilities, and I’m not done teaching her a lesson.”
I crossed my arms, standing firm. “She’s not coming back, Frank. What you did was wrong, and you know it. You locked her in the attic like she was a child. That’s not okay.”
Behind me, Sharon appeared in the hallway, her voice soft but steady. “I’m not coming back, Frank.”
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean you’re not coming back? You don’t have a choice.”
“I do have a choice,” she said, stepping forward, her voice gaining strength. “I’m done being treated like a child, Frank. If my punishment for trying to help is being locked away, then maybe it’s time I make some changes.”
Frank tried to argue, but Sharon wasn’t backing down. “I’m not living like this anymore, Frank. I’m done.”
The look on Frank’s face was a mixture of disbelief and anger, but he knew it was over. He stormed off without another word, slamming the door behind him.
The relief I saw on Sharon’s face was indescribable. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was like she could finally breathe a little easier.
A few weeks later, Sharon decided to file for divorce. She moved into a small apartment near us and even started taking that painting class she’d always wanted to try. It was like she’d been given a second chance at life, and she wasn’t going to waste it.
Bryce stood by her every step of the way, offering support and encouragement. “You deserve better, Mom,” he told her. “You should’ve never had to put up with that.”
In the end, Frank lost more than just Sharon. He lost his son, too. But it was his own doing. He pushed too hard, and Bryce wasn’t willing to let it slide. Sharon, though — she was finally free. And that was worth everything.
What would you have done in my shoes? Let me know your thoughts!
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