*”He’s my son, not yours,”* said the mother-in-law, taking the boy by the hand and leading him away from the playground.
Lena stood rooted to the spot. Her heart pounded once, twice, then seemed to drop into an abyss. She watched as little Thomas, her son, glanced back, blinking in confusion, but did not cry. He didnt reach for her, didnt call out *”Mummy!”*he simply walked beside his grandmother, holding her fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
*”Wait!”* Lena burst out. *”Thomas, stop!”*
Her mother-in-law didnt even turn. She only tightened her grip on the boys hand and quickened her pace.
*”Mum!”* Lena shouted, rushing after them. *”What are you doing? Hes my child!”*
*”And mine as well,”* the woman snapped, finally turning. *”Youre a stranger in this family. Always have been.”*
Lena stopped. Her throat closed. The world around her seemed to freezethe children on the swings, the wind in the leaves, the sparrows chirping on the bench. Only her heart thundered, loud enough, she thought, to echo down the entire street.
She returned home in a daze. The flat was empty. Her husband, Edward, had left for an urgent shift at the factory. Before that, they had foughtagainover the same thing: his mothers constant interference, her insistence that Thomas was hers, not Lenas.
*”You dont know how to handle him,”* Edward would say. *”Mum knows best.”*
*”Hes my son,”* Lena would retort. *”I carried him, birthed him, stayed awake when he was ill. And you say she knows better?”*
*”Dont shout,”* hed mutter. *”Shes older. More experienced.”*
*”Experienced?”* Lena would snap. *”Shes been taking him from me since he was in nappies! Never asks, just whisks him away. And you say nothing!”*
*”What am I supposed to do?”* hed shrug. *”Shes my mother. I cant forbid her from seeing her grandson.”*
*”You could remind her this is our family,”* Lena would say. *”That we make the rules. That youre his father, not her.”*
But he would only turn away. And with every silence, the wall between them grewthin but solid as concrete.
Thomas was threea quiet, kind boy who loved drawing, watching cartoons, and playing with toy cars. Everything would have been fine, if not for his grandmother.
She came every day. By the time Lena had breakfast ready, she was already at the door, bag in hand.
*”Ill take Thomas to the park,”* shed say. *”You need a rest.”*
*”Im not tired,”* Lena would reply. *”Well go ourselves later.”*
*”Dont be silly,”* the woman would wave her off. *”You dont even dress him properly. Its chilly, and youve got him in just a jumper. Hell catch cold.”*
*”Its twenty degrees,”* Lena would say. *”Hell overheat.”*
*”I know whats best,”* the mother-in-law would cut in. *”I raised three children. Youve raised none.”*
And Lena would stay silent. Because arguing was pointless. Because Edward always took his mothers side. Because every time she tried to stand her ground, she was accused of being difficult, hysterical, selfish.
Then came the day she snapped. She went to the playground to fetch Thomas and found him in the sandbox, shaping little castles while his grandmother stood nearby, phone in hand.
*”Thomas, time to go,”* Lena called.
The boy looked up and smiled. *”Mummy!”*
But his grandmother was already at his side, taking his hand.
*”No, were staying,”* she said. *”Hes busy.”*
*”Hes my son,”* Lena said. *”I decide when we leave.”*
*”And Im his grandmother,”* the woman shot back. *”I have rights too.”*
*”Rights?”* Lena felt anger rising. *”What rights? Youve been stealing him from meevery single day! Do you want him to forget who I am?”*
*”Dont be dramatic,”* her mother-in-law said coldly. *”I love him. You just shout and fuss.”*
*”Im his mother!”* Lena cried. *”Not you!”*
*”Mother?”* The woman smirked. *”You cant even dress him right. Lookhis shoes are on the wrong feet.”*
Lena glanced down. It was true. She hadnt noticed. The night before had been longThomas had been coughing, and shed barely slept.
*”Im tired,”* she said quietly. *”Im not perfect. But I love him. More than life.”*
*”Love isnt just a feeling,”* her mother-in-law said. *”Its order, discipline, care. And you fail at all of it.”*
That was when something inside Lena broke. Not anger, not hurtjust shattered, as if shed been erased from her own childs life.
*”Hes my son, not yours,”* the woman said. *”And Im taking him.”*
And she did.
At home, Lena sat on the sofa and weptnot loudly, not dramatically, but silently, the way one cries when theres nothing left.
She remembered giving birth. Holding a tiny, wet, wailing baby. Whispering, *”Youre mine, mine, my little one.”* Nursing him even when it hurt, staying awake nights when he was feverish, singing lullabies until he slept.
And now? Now he walked away with his grandmother as if she were his own. Looked at Lena with trustyesbut also doubt. As if testing: *Are you really my mum?*
When Edward returned, she was still in the same spot.
*”Wheres Thomas?”* he asked.
*”With your mother,”* Lena said.
*”Again?”* He sighed. *”Well, let her. You could use the rest.”*
*”She told me hes her son, not mine,”* Lena said.
Edward went quiet. Then shrugged. *”You know how she talks. Ignore it.”*
*”What if she means it?”* Lena asked. *”What if she truly believes that? Do you?”*
*”Dont be daft,”* he frowned. *”Of course not.”*
*”Then why dont you stand up for me?”* she pressed. *”Why do you stay silent every time she takes him? Why dont you say, Mum, this is our familywe raise our son our way?”*
*”Because shes older,”* he said. *”She knows more.”*
*”And my thoughts mean nothing?”*
*”They do,”* he said. *”But dont complicate things.”*
*”Im not,”* Lena whispered. *”I just want to be his mother. A real one. Not some aunt who visits now and then.”*
He didnt answer. Just walked away, turning on the tap in the bathroom.
The next day, Lena went to her mother-in-laws. The woman opened the door, face blank.
*”What do you want?”*
*”Im taking my son home.”*
*”He doesnt want to go with you,”* the woman said. *”See?”*
She opened the door wider. Thomas sat on the floor, colouring. He saw Lena and smiled but didnt run over.
*”Mummy,”* he said. *”Granny says youre mean.”*
Lena went cold. *”Mean?”*
*”Yes,”* he nodded. *”You shout. Granny doesnt.”*
*”I shout because I love you,”* Lena said, kneeling. *”Because it hurts when youre taken from me.”*
*”Granny says you dont know how to love,”* he added.
The words cut like a knife. Lena felt everything inside her tighten. But she didnt cry. Didnt shout. Just took his hand.
*”Come home,”* she said. *”Ill make your favourite soup. Read you a story.”*
*”I want to stay,”* Thomas said. *”Granny promised cake.”*
*”She did,”* the woman confirmed from the doorway. *”And hell live with me. Its better here.”*
*”Thats not possible,”* Lena said. *”Hes my child. I
