“You can’t just expect me to look after someone elses granny! Shes nothing to me!” snapped the daughter-in-law, arms crossed defiantly.
Olivia felt her face burn. The air in the room grew thick. Julie lounged on the sofa in *her* and Stevens living room, belly swollenthe baby wasnt far off. Yet, despite having barely a penny to her name, she carried on like she owned the place.
Steven, meanwhile, sat beside her, holding her hand, silent as ever. Whether he agreed or was just waiting for the storm to blow over without lifting a finger, Olivia couldnt tell.
“Julie, love, dont you think youre making a mountain out of a molehill?” Olivia kept her voice steady. “Margarets perfectly capableshe cooks, cleans, and she *wants* to help you both.”
“Yeah, *now*,” Julie scoffed. “Who knows what shell be like in a year?”
“Exactly*who knows*?” Olivia shot back. “What if *you* need help by then? Familys supposed to look after each other, not act like its all a bother.”
“Oh, so now youre just dumping your old gran on us!” Julie retorted. “What if she starts losing her marbles? Im not leaving my baby alone with her!”
Olivia and Steven exchanged a glance. This was *his* mother they were talking about, and the sting of Julies words was plain on his face. He shifted uncomfortably but held his tongueknowing if he snapped, things would only get worse.
Olivia, though, had reached her limit.
“Listen, Julie, no ones forcing you,” she said coolly. “Margaret offered out of kindnessshe wanted to take you under her roof. If youd rather struggle on your own, thats your choice.”
It wasnt surprising Olivia was furious. Margaret had never extended *her* such generosity. Years ago, when Olivia and Steven were scraping by in a dodgy rented flat, Margaret had adjusted her glasses and said flatly:
“Olivia, Ive nothing against you, but lets be cleardont ask to move in. I run *my* home, and I always will. My own mum used to say: the further the mother-in-law lives, the better the relationship. So visit whenever you like, and Ill help with money if neededbut we wont share a roof. Two women in one kitchen? Never works.”
Olivia had been hurt back then. But as years passed, she realised Margaret was right. Their relationship *was* better for itpolite, if not warm. Margaret helped from a distance: birthday cheques, babysitting when asked, never meddling.
Now, with Julie, things were shaping up very differently.
“Steven, why the rush?” Olivia had asked when he announced the wedding. “Youve barely lived on your own two months! Try living together firstwhat if you dont suit?”
“Mum, its just a piece of paper,” hed shrugged. “Makes Julie feel secure. I can always divorce.”
Now, seven months into that “piece of paper,” their baby was weeks away from keeping them up at night.
When Olivia heard about the pregnancy, she nearly lost it. How could they afford a child? They could barely feed *themselves*. Kids werent cheap.
Then Margaret surprised everyone.
“Ive been thinking,” shed said to Olivia. “Let Steven and Julie move in. They can save upfor the crib, maternity leave…”
*Maternity leave.* Steven could never support them alone. He drifted between minimum-wage jobsshop assistant, waiter, call centre gruntwith no real skills or drive.
Margarets offer was a lifeline. But Julie? She acted like it was a burden.
“Nice idea,” Julie had said, “but wouldnt it be better if *you* took Margaret in?”
Olivia blinked. “*Excuse* me?”
“Well, two bedrooms, three of us, plus her… Tight squeeze,” Julie hedged. “And with my bump, Id rather not share. Kids are noisyMargaret wouldnt like it either.”
Olivia was floored. Then came the kicker: *”Im not playing nurse to your old woman.”*
And when Olivia suggested dropping the idea altogether, Steven finally spoke upnot to defend his gran, but to side with Julie.
“Mum, dont overreact,” he said, as if *she* was the unreasonable one. “It just makes sense. If anything happens to Gran, *youd* have to care for her. Shes *your* family.”
Olivia felt slapped. All her life, shed wanted a close-knit familynow they were squabbling over whod wipe an old womans nose.
“Did you even *ask* Margaret if she *wants* to move?” Olivia asked icily.
“Gran doesnt need to know,” Steven said. “If she refuses… Well, theres a backup. *You* could move in with her. Big house, no more kidswhat do you need all that space for? Well have a *son*.”
Olivia stared, speechless.
Thats when Stevens dad, Mark, snapped.
“Kids, *leave*,” he said flatly. “Before I say something I regret.”
They went. Calls afterwards were stiff, testing the waters. Olivia stood firm: take Margarets offer as-is, or fend for yourselves.
They chose the latter. Didnt even invite Olivia to the hospital when the baby came. It stung, but she shrugged it off.
Then, six months later, Margaret called, bubbly as ever.
“Olivia, love! Fancy helping me clear out? Stevens finally moving in! Ill get to spoil my great-grandbabyIm old, but not useless yet!”
Olivias heart lurched. Shed never told Margaret the truth. But now she had to.
“Margaret… Promise you wont take this badly?”
“Try me.”
She spilled it allhow theyd treated Margaret like a senile burden, Julies “someone elses granny” remark. Margaret went quiet.
“Right. Thanks for telling me,” she said softly.
The next day, Steven texted:
*”You talked Gran out of it? Mum, thats low.”*
Olivia fired back: *”Thank Julie. She didnt want to live with her. Now she wont have to.”*
She turned her phone off and got ready to visit Margaret. Funnyher mother-in-law had ended up closer than her own son. Because Margaret never demanded, never schemed.
Distance, it turned out, *could* bring people together. Not always. But in their family? Absolutely.
