I thought I could trust my mother-in-law to care for my son while my husband and I were on our honeymoon. But just four days in, I received a panicked call from my little boy that sent me racing home.
I had Liam when I was just eighteen. His father? Gone before he was even born.
A woman hugging her son | Source: Pexels
It was just the two of us. I worked every job I could—waitressing, cleaning houses, even stocking shelves at a grocery store overnight—anything to keep a roof over our heads. It wasn’t easy. Some nights, I came home so exhausted I could barely stand. But the moment Liam wrapped his tiny arms around me, it was all worth it.
Then, a few years ago, I met Ethan.
A smiling man with a laptop | Source: Pexels
He was different. He listened and never judged me for being a single mom. He didn’t see Liam as baggage. For him, he was a blessing. He’d bring Liam little gifts, sit with him for hours building Legos, and even learn how to make dinosaur-shaped pancakes on Saturday mornings.
I let myself believe it was safe to trust someone.
A happy couple hugging | Source: Pexels
Last year, Ethan and I got married. He planned a honeymoon—a full week in the Bahamas. I was nervous about leaving Liam, but Ethan squeezed my hand and smiled.
“Mom will take care of him. She adores Liam. You trust me, don’t you?”
I hesitated. Angela, Ethan’s mom, seemed sweet enough. A little old-fashioned, maybe, but nothing that raised red flags.
A mature woman drinking tea | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah,” I finally said. “I trust you.”
So, I packed my bags, kissed Liam goodbye, and left. Four days in, my phone rang. It was Angela’s number.
I smiled and answered, expecting a cheerful update. But the voice on the other end? Small. Shaky. Terrified.
“Mom, don’t do this to me!” Liam whispered.
A scared boy talking on his phone in his room | Source: Midjourney
My heart stopped.
“Liam? Baby, what’s wrong?” I sat up so fast the hotel sheets tangled around my legs.
“Mrs. Kim said you’re gonna give me up for adoption if I don’t listen and watch cartoons.”
My stomach twisted.
“What?” My voice came out sharper than I meant. “Who told you that?”
A shocked woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Grandma… and Mrs. Kim,” he sniffled. “They said I should get used to not having a mom soon.”
I gripped the phone so hard my fingers ached.
“That’s not true,” I said firmly. “I would never—never—leave you. Do you hear me?”
Liam hiccupped. “Then why did they say it?”
A crying boy talking on his phone | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t breathe. My vision blurred with rage.
“Put Grandma on the phone,” I said through clenched teeth.
Liam sniffled again. I heard the phone shuffle. A second later, Angela’s voice came on, light and breezy, like nothing was wrong.
“Oh! Hello, dear. Everything’s fine. Liam’s just being sensitive.”
A woman talking on her phone in her living room | Source: Midjourney
“Sensitive?” My hands shook. “You told my son I was giving him up?”
Angela sighed. “He wasn’t listening. Kids these days need a little motivation. I thought—”
I hung up, threw the blankets off, and grabbed my suitcase.
Ethan stirred beside me. “What’s going on?”
“We’re leaving,” I said, yanking open a drawer.
A woman packing her suitcase in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
He sat up, blinking. “Wait—what?”
I spun to face him. “Your mother told my son I was giving him away. That if he didn’t behave, I wouldn’t be his mom anymore.”
Ethan paled. “She—she wouldn’t—”
“She did,” I snapped. “I just heard my baby crying. Do you think I imagined it?”
An angry woman looking to her side | Source: Pexels
He scrambled out of bed. “I—I’ll call her. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding—”
I pointed at him. “You do whatever you want. I’m going home.”
We booked the earliest flight. The whole way to the airport, my heart pounded. Liam needed me. And God help Angela, because I wasn’t playing nice anymore.
An angry woman driving | Source: Midjourney
I barely remembered the drive. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ached, but I didn’t care. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing with one thought—get to Liam.
The moment we pulled up to Angela’s house, I was out of the car. I didn’t bother knocking. I threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
A furious woman standing in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
Angela, sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, jumped at the noise. She blinked in surprise, then set her cup down carefully, like nothing was wrong.
“Oh! You’re back early—”
“WHERE IS LIAM?”
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t seem the least bit concerned. If anything, she looked amused.
A smiling woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
“He’s upstairs, taking a nap,” she said smoothly. “He was being so difficult at first, but don’t worry—I taught him how to behave.”
I didn’t wait to hear another word. I bolted up the stairs, my pulse hammering in my ears.
When I reached Liam’s door, I didn’t even knock. I pushed it open, my breath catching in my throat the second I saw him.
A sad boy on his bed | Source: Midjourney
He was curled up in the corner of the bed, knees pulled to his chest, clutching his stuffed bunny like it was the only thing keeping him safe. His tiny body trembled, his face pressed against the pillow.
“Liam,” I breathed.
His head jerked up. His red, tear-streaked eyes locked onto mine.
“Mom!”
A sad boy talking to his mother | Source: Midjourney
He launched himself off the bed and into my arms, wrapping himself around me so tight I could feel his little heart pounding against my chest.
“I didn’t mean to be bad!” he sobbed. “Please don’t leave me!”
Tears burned in my eyes. I held him close, rocking him gently, pressing kisses against his damp hair. I turned and locked eyes with Angela standing in the doorway. My whole body burned with rage.
A sad boy hugging his mother | Source: Midjourney
“Explain,” I said, my voice shaking. “Now.”
Angela let out a dramatic sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop acting like I beat him.”
I tightened my hold on Liam. His fingers still clung to my shirt like he thought I’d disappear if he let go. My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
A serious woman with her hands crossed | Source: Midjourney
“You told my son I was giving him up,” I said, voice low and shaking. “You made him believe I didn’t want him. You let him cry himself to sleep, thinking he was alone in this world.”
Angela waved a dismissive hand. “A little fear never hurt anyone. It teaches kids respect. If they don’t learn young, they’ll grow up weak.”
A woman arguing with her mother-in-law | Source: Midjourney
My stomach twisted. I took a slow, deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “You don’t scare children into obedience. You love them. You protect them.”
She scoffed. “That’s not how I was raised, and I turned out just fine.”
I stared at her, truly seeing her for the first time. Cold. Unfeeling. So convinced she was right, she didn’t even realize the damage she had done.
A shocked woman at her mother-in-law | Source: Midjourney
Behind me, footsteps echoed.
Ethan.
He must have heard the last part of our conversation because his face was pale, his hands clenched at his sides. He looked at his mother, then at Liam, who was still trembling in my arms. His whole body went rigid.
An angry man | Source: Pexels
“Mom…” His voice was tight and controlled like he was holding back a storm of emotions. “Tell me this isn’t true.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Oh, Ethan, don’t be so dramatic. This is just parenting. Kids need discipline, and if a little fear gets them in line, so be it.”
A woman with her hands crossed looking to her side | Source: Midjourney
Ethan exhaled sharply, like she had just punched him in the gut. He stared at her for a long moment, something in his face shifting.
Then he spoke.
“All right,” he said slowly, his voice eerily calm. “Then don’t be surprised when we put you in a nursing home one day. You know… just part of how we handle difficult parents.”
A serious man in a white shirt | Source: Pexels
Silence.
Angela’s face paled. “Excuse me?”
Ethan didn’t blink. “A little fear builds character, right? Shouldn’t you experience it too?”
For the first time, Angela had nothing to say.
She opened her mouth, then shut it. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face—like, for the first time, she realized she had gone too far.
A shocked woman in a blue T-shirt | Source: Pexels
Ethan turned to me. “Get Liam. We’re leaving.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I carried Liam downstairs, his little arms still wrapped around my neck. Ethan followed behind, silent, tense. Angela trailed after us, her voice breaking as she called out—
A woman carrying her son | Source: Midjourney
“Wait! Ethan, don’t do this. I didn’t mean—”
But Ethan didn’t even glance back. We walked out the front door, leaving Angela standing in the middle of her perfect, spotless living room.
For weeks, Angela called. She left voicemails, sent messages, even showed up at our door once, begging us to let her see Liam.
A crying woman on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Ethan ignored her. I blocked her number.
She cried, apologized and swore she’d never do it again. Eventually, for Ethan’s sake, we agreed to let her back into our lives on one condition. She would never, ever be alone with Liam again.
She agreed, but things were never the same.
A sad woman on her couch | Source: Freepik
Liam had changed, too. He refused to sleep alone. If I left the room, even for a few minutes, he would panic, running after me with tears in his eyes. Every night, he needed my arms around him to feel safe.
I blamed myself. I trusted the wrong person and left my son in the hands of someone who didn’t deserve him. But I promised him that no one would ever hurt him again.
A crying woman | Source: Freepik
And I meant it.
Years later, one night, as I tucked Liam into bed, he wrapped his little arms around me and whispered, “You never left me. You kept your promise.”
And that was enough for me.
A boy hugging his mother | Source: Freepik
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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.
