My daughter called on Friday and asked me to look after my grandson for the weekend. I canceled all my plans and came over. On Sunday evening, she returned and said words that broke my heart…

My daughter had a baby three years ago. She got married early, at twenty-two. My son-in-law is a decent guy, hardworking. They live together in a rented apartment. I helped them as much as I could. I looked after my grandson when needed. I bought clothes for the child. I cooked for them sometimes.

In the last six months, my daughter has become somewhat nervous. She called often, complained about being tired. She said that her husband doesn’t help much with the child, that she is handling everything on her own. I comforted her, saying that it’s like this for everyone, that it will pass.

She called on Friday morning. She said she and her husband needed to leave urgently for the weekend. Important matters. She asked me to stay with my grandson. I agreed immediately. I had a meeting scheduled with friends, planned for a month. But my grandson is more important.

I arrived at her place at noon. My daughter was already packed. The suitcase was in the hallway. She quickly showed me where things were, what to prepare for the child, when to put him to bed. My son-in-law came out of the room, nodded silently to me. They left in ten minutes.

It was just me and my grandson. A good, calm little boy. We played the whole evening, I fed him, put him to bed. I called my daughter before sleep. She didn’t answer. I sent a message—everything’s fine, we’re sleeping. She didn’t reply.

On Saturday morning, my grandson woke up early. I fed him, we strolled in the yard. I called my daughter again. No answer. I texted once more. Silence. I thought they were busy, so I didn’t disturb them.

All day Saturday, it was just me with the child. I cooked, walked, played, cleaned the apartment. In the evening, I tried to call again. The phone didn’t answer at all. I started getting worried. I messaged my son-in-law. He didn’t reply either.

Sunday passed the same way. My grandson was fussy, likely missing his mom. I entertained him as best as I could. I called my daughter every hour. Silence. I began seriously worrying. I even thought of calling the police.

On Sunday evening, the door opened. My daughter came in. Alone. Without her husband. With a big suitcase. She looked tired. Her eyes were red.

I asked where she’d been, why she hadn’t answered. She was silent. Walked into the room, took a bag out, started packing the child’s things.

I asked what happened, where my son-in-law was. She kept silently packing. Then she straightened up and looked at me.

She said that she and her husband had divorced. That they spent the weekend settling matters about the split. That they could no longer live together. That she was moving back with me. With the child. Today.

I stood there, listening. I wasn’t expecting this. She continued. She said she had already given up the rented apartment, that the lease ended yesterday. All her belongings were in the suitcase. The rest she’d pick up later. That she had nowhere else to go but to me.

I live in a one-room apartment. Alone. After my husband died five years ago, I got used to my space, to the silence, to the order. My daughter knew this.

I asked why she didn’t give me a heads up. She replied she feared rejection. That she decided to put me before the fact. That I’m her mother, and wouldn’t put her and the child out on the street.

I asked about my son-in-law, maybe they’d reconcile. She said no, everything was decided finally. They’d finalize the divorce in a month. The child would stay with her. He promised to pay alimony, but it wouldn’t be enough for rent. Hence, she’s moving in with me. For a long time.

I sat on the couch. My grandson was playing with toys on the floor. My daughter continued packing his things. Everything was happening so fast. Two days ago, I was planning to meet my friends. And now my one-bedroom apartment will host my daughter and her three-year-old child. For an unknown period.

My daughter finished packing. She picked up my grandson, took the suitcase by the handle. She looked at me. She said she already called a taxi, we’re going to my place right now. That tomorrow we’ll discuss how we’ll live, and today she’s very tired.

They’ve been living with me for a week now. My one-room apartment has turned into a daycare. Toys everywhere. The child is noisy from morning to night. My daughter is looking for work, spending all day on the computer. I cook, I clean, I take care of my grandson. My plans, my life, my space—all disappeared in one day. And I couldn’t say no. Because she’s right—I’m her mother.

Tell me, did my daughter do the right thing? Or did she take advantage of me, knowing I couldn’t refuse? And now, how do I live knowing that my life no longer belongs to me?

****

My daughter called on Friday and asked me to look after my grandson for the weekend.
I canceled my plans with friends and came right away.
For two days, I was alone with the child, and she didn’t call or reply to my messages.
I tried not to overthink it and waited.
On Sunday evening, she came back, placed a suitcase by the door, and told me news that made my heart ache…
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