“I’m fine, thanks,” I smiled, totally mesmerized by my son’s choice. “You look wonderful, Layla!”
At that moment, I had no clue how this woman would soon come into our lives and pull my son away from me. She seemed so nice; I never would have guessed just how cunning she really was.
Toby and Layla tied the knot just six months after our first meeting. I was so happy for my son as he started a new chapter of his life, and my heart was full of good wishes for him. I remember how I couldn’t stop weeping when my boy said his vows like a grown-up man.
Not long after the wedding, Toby and Layla invited me over to their place for lunch. I thought it would be a nice bonding session with my daughter-in-law since it was just the three of us, but it was anything but that.
Toby had asked me to be there at 2 p.m., but I arrived about 10 minutes late, and Layla took that as an opportunity to create a scene.
“Why are you so late, Jennifer?” she asked as soon as I stepped inside the house. I couldn’t see Toby anywhere near the entrance. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long!”
“I… I got late because of the traffic,” I stammered, taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.
“I don’t like hosting people who can’t value my time,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry for that, Layla,” I apologized. “But it was just 10 minutes.”
“I don’t care if it was 10 minutes or 10 hours,” she shot me an angry look. “You need to be on time when you come to my place, underst—”
“Oh, Mom! You’re here!” Toby interrupted. “How are you, my lovely lady?”
“I’m fine, Toby,” I said, hugging him, still reeling from Layla’s behavior. “How are you, my love? Looks like you haven’t been eating well.”
“Nah, I’m good, Mom,” he smiled. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Your wife was say—”
“Nothing, babe,” Layla cut me off. “I was just telling her how beautiful she looks today.”
“Yeah?” Toby’s gaze shifted from his wife to me. “My mom always looks the best!”
At that point, I was stunned by Layla’s behavior. Why was she being so sweet to me in front of Toby? And why didn’t she let me tell him what she had said earlier?
I spent the rest of the afternoon at their house, observing how Layla effortlessly switched on her sweet personality whenever Toby was around. But when he wasn’t looking, she’d throw mean remarks to make me feel unwelcome.
That day marked the beginning of my strained relationship with my daughter-in-law.
Then, one day, I noticed how Toby began taking her side whenever Layla and I argued in front of him.
“Layla’s right, Mom,” Toby said one day when we were at a restaurant deciding what to order for dinner. “We don’t need a large bowl of salad. It’s just the three of us. We’ll manage with a small bowl.”
“See, I’ve been telling your mother to order the small bowl, but she never listens to me,” Layla chuckled. “I don’t know why she never trusts me.”
She played the victim in front of him, and my poor boy always fell for it. I don’t blame him; he had seen his father always side with me. But I wasn’t like Layla. I wasn’t pretending to be a good daughter-in-law in front of my husband.
Layla’s behavior toward me didn’t change until the day she called me. I was genuinely surprised to see her name on my phone screen.
“Hi, Jen!” she chirped through the phone.
Jen? I thought. That’s weird.
“Hi, Layla,” I played along, trying to sound as sweet as possible. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she said. “I was wondering if I could borrow your car tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?”
“My car?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Actually, I was supposed to visit my friend today. She lives a few hours away, but I couldn’t go because my car broke down. The mechanic says it’ll take a few days before he can fix it.”
“Oh, my! Sounds like there’s a major problem,” I said, genuinely concerned.
“I was so upset, but then Toby suggested I ask if you could lend me your car for a day,” she continued. “I’ll be back in a week.”
A week? I thought. That’s a lot.
But I felt bad for her. She sounded desperate, and she mentioned Toby had suggested it, so I didn’t want to let her down. I also saw it as a chance to mend our relationship.
“Sure, I don’t mind,” I said. “You can come over today if you want.”
And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
A week later, Layla and Toby returned my car, but I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It was covered in scratches, dents, and dust. And the inside? It smelled like rotten onions!
“What have you done to my car?” I spat out. “What happened?”
“Excuse me?” she said, squinting her eyes as if I’d said something outrageous. “What did I do to your car? It was like this when I picked it up the other day.”
“Stop it, Layla!” I yelled at her. “Stop lying.”
“You think I’m lying?” she snapped, turning to Toby. “Babe, look at her! She’s accusing me of lying! How dare she?”
“Mom, Layla’s right,” Toby said. “She told me your car was like this when she picked it up the other day. She’s not lying.”
“Toby? Are you serious?” I stared at him in shock, realizing there was no point in arguing with them.
I had no proof, and neither did she. But Toby sided with her because he was so blindly in love with her.
I realized that arguing might even push my son away, so I decided to teach Layla a lesson instead. I spent the night researching online and stumbled across an incredible idea. A quick call to the nearby pet shop, and my plan was in motion.
The next night, I drove over to their place armed with animal attractant sprays. I carefully sprayed them all over their backyard, driveway, and front porch, making sure to stay out of sight.
With the lights off, I knew they were asleep. I quickly executed my plan and quietly drove away, feeling a mix of nerves and satisfaction.
I was certain this would teach Layla not to mess with me again.
The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Toby.
“Mom, I need help!” he cried over the phone.
“What happened, honey?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Are you okay?”
“We just woke up, and it’s awful here! The yard stinks, and wild animals have turned our place into a toilet! The whole house smells horrible, and we don’t know what to do!”
I secretly smirked, listening to him rant about the mess. The irony was delicious.
“Oh, my!” I pretended to be surprised. “That sounds horrible. I guess that’s what happens when you ruin someone else’s property.”
I don’t know if Toby caught my meaning, but I’m sure his clever wife knew those animals didn’t show up by chance. She had to know it was me, her oh-so-nice mother-in-law, who never fought back before.
Since that day, Layla hasn’t dared to mess with me. We met at a dinner once, and she didn’t try to be rude or complain about me wasting her time. Meanwhile, Toby started calling me regularly, checking in to see how I was doing.
I guess my dear husband Nathan was right after all. My son did need me to pull him out of the trance Layla had drawn him into. He needed me to stand up for myself and set a boundary his wife wouldn’t dare cross again.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
My Landlord Kicked Us Out for a Week So His Brother Could Stay In the House We Rent
When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t much, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen is peeling so badly that I’ve started calling it “abstract art.”
An old house | Source: Pexels
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma, and Sophie, make it feel that way, with their laughter and the little things they do that remind me why I push so hard.
Money was always on my mind. My job as a waitress barely covered our rent and bills. There was no cushion, no backup plan. If something went wrong, I didn’t know what we’d do.
The phone rang the next day while I was hanging out laundry to dry.
A woman hanging laundry | Source: Pexels
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Nancy, it’s Peterson.”
His voice made my stomach tighten. “Oh, hi, Mr. Peterson. Is everything okay?”
“I need you out of the house for a week,” he said, as casually as if he were asking me to water his plants.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“What?” I froze, a pair of Sophie’s socks still in my hands.
“My brother’s coming to town, and he needs a place to stay. I told him he could use your house.”
I thought I must’ve misheard him. “Wait—this is my home. We have a lease!”
“Don’t start with that lease nonsense,” he snapped. “Remember when you were late on rent last month? I could’ve kicked you out then, but I didn’t. You owe me.”
An angry man talking on his phone | Source: Freepik
I gripped the phone tighter. “I was late by one day,” I said, my voice shaking. “My daughter was sick. I explained that to you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “You’ve got till Friday to get out. Be gone, or maybe you won’t come back at all.”
“Mr. Peterson, please,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
An expressive woman talking | Source: Pexels
“Not my problem,” he said coldly, and then the line went dead.
I sat on the couch, staring at the phone in my hand. My heart pounded in my ears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Lily, my oldest, asked from the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.
I forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Go play with your sisters.”
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Pexels
But it wasn’t nothing. I had no savings, no family nearby, and no way to fight back. If I stood up to Peterson, he’d find an excuse to evict us for good.
By Thursday night, I’d packed what little we could carry into a few bags. The girls were full of questions, but I didn’t know how to explain what was happening.
“We’re going on an adventure,” I told them, trying to sound cheerful.
A woman packing together with her daughter | Source: Pexels
“Is it far?” Sophie asked, clutching Mr. Floppy to her chest.
“Not too far,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
The hostel was worse than I expected. The room was tiny, barely big enough for the four of us, and the walls were so thin we could hear every cough, every creak, every loud voice from the other side.
A woman in a hostel | Source: Freepik
“Mama, it’s noisy,” Emma said, pressing her hands over her ears.
“I know, sweetie,” I said softly, stroking her hair.
Lily tried to distract her sisters by playing I Spy, but it didn’t work for long. Sophie’s little face crumpled, and tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Where’s Mr. Floppy?” she cried, her voice breaking.
A crying child | Source: Pexels
My stomach sank. In the rush to leave, I’d forgotten her bunny.
“He’s still at home,” I said, my throat tightening.
“I can’t sleep without him!” Sophie sobbed, clutching my arm.
I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, whispering that it would be okay. But I knew it wasn’t okay.
A woman hugging her crying child | Source: Freepik
That night, as Sophie cried herself to sleep, I stared at the cracked ceiling, feeling completely helpless.
By the fourth night, Sophie’s crying hadn’t stopped. Every sob felt like a knife to my heart.
“Please, Mama,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I want Mr. Floppy.”
I held her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
A crying girl | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’ll get him,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I didn’t know how, but I had to try.
I parked down the street, my heart pounding as I stared at the house. What if they didn’t let me in? What if Mr. Peterson was there? But Sophie’s tear-streaked face wouldn’t leave my mind.
A thoughtful woman in front of her house | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and walked up to the door, Sophie’s desperate “please” echoing in my ears. My knuckles rapped against the wood, and I held my breath.
The door opened, and a man I’d never seen before stood there. He was tall, with a kind face and sharp green eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking puzzled.
A man in front of his house | Source: Midjourney
“Hi,” I stammered. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m the tenant here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny inside, and I was hoping I could grab it.”
He blinked at me. “Wait. You live here?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. “But Mr. Peterson told us we had to leave for a week because you were staying here.”
A sad woman in the doorway | Source: Pexels
His brows furrowed. “What? My brother said the place was empty and ready for me to move in for a bit.”
I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “It’s not empty. This is my home. My kids and I are crammed into a hostel across town. My youngest can’t sleep because she doesn’t have her bunny.”
A sad young woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, and for a second, I thought he was angry at me. Instead, he muttered, “That son of a…” He stopped himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I had no idea. Come in, and we’ll find the bunny.”
A serious young man opening his door | Source: Midjourney
He stepped aside, and I hesitated before walking in. The familiar smell of home hit me, and my eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. Jack—he introduced himself as Jack—helped me search Sophie’s room, which looked untouched.
“Here he is,” Jack said, pulling Mr. Floppy from under the bed.
A pink stuffed bunny under a bed | Source: Midjourney
I held the bunny close, imagining Sophie’s joy. “Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Tell me everything,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of Sophie’s bed. “What exactly did my brother say to you?”
I hesitated but told him everything: the call, the threats, the hostel. He listened quietly, his jaw tightening with every word.
A couple talking | Source: Midjourney
When I finished, he stood and pulled out his phone. “This isn’t right,” he said.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
“Fixing this,” he said, dialing.
The conversation that followed was heated, though I could only hear his side.
A serious man on his phone | Source: Pexels
“You kicked a single mom and her kids out of their home? For me?” Jack’s voice was sharp. “No, you’re not getting away with this. Fix it now, or I will.”
He hung up and turned to me. “Pack your things at the hostel. You’re coming back tonight.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “What about you?”
“I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he said firmly. “I can’t stay here after what my brother pulled. And he’ll cover your rent for the next six months.”
A smiling man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
That evening, Jack helped us move back in. Sophie lit up when she saw Mr. Floppy, her little arms clutching the bunny like a treasure.
“Thank you,” I told Jack as we unpacked. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I couldn’t let you stay there another night,” he said simply.
A young child holding her toy | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, Jack kept showing up. He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen. One night, he brought over groceries.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I like helping.”
A man with groceries | Source: Pexels
The girls adored him. Lily asked for his advice on her science project. Emma roped him into board games. Even Sophie warmed up to him, offering Mr. Floppy a “hug” for Jack to join their tea party.
I started to see more of the man behind the kind gestures. He was funny, patient, and genuinely cared about my kids. Eventually, our dinners together blossomed into a romance.
A couple on a date night | Source: Pexels
One evening several months later, as we sat on the porch after the girls had gone to bed, Jack spoke quietly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking out into the yard.
“About what?”
“I don’t want you and the girls to ever feel like this again. No one should be scared of losing their home overnight.”
A young man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
His words hung in the air.
“I want to help you find something permanent,” he continued. “Will you marry me?”
I was stunned. “Jack… I don’t know what to say. Yes!”
A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels
A month later, we moved into a beautiful little house Jack found for us. Lily had her own room. Emma painted hers pink. Sophie ran to hers, holding Mr. Floppy like a shield.
As I tucked Sophie in that night, she whispered, “Mama, I love our new home.”
“So do I, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead.
A woman tucking her daughter in | Source: Midjourney
Jack stayed for dinner that night, helping me set the table. As the girls chattered, I looked at him and knew: he wasn’t just our hero. He was family.
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.
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