I thought my mother-in-law was safe for my son. I had Liam at 18, alone. His dad left before he was born. I worked hard to keep us going.
I waitressed, cleaned houses, worked nights. I was exhausted, but Liam’s hugs made it okay. Then I met Tom. He was different, kind, and loved Liam.
Tom played with Liam, built towers, and made silly snacks. I felt safe again. Last year, we got married. Tom planned a honeymoon in Florida.
I didn’t want to leave Liam. “My mom will watch him,” Tom said. His mom, Diane, seemed sweet, if a bit strict. I agreed, trusting her.
I hugged Liam and left. Four days in, my phone rang. It was Diane’s number. I answered, expecting a fun update. But it was Liam, terrified.
“Mom, don’t give me away!” he whispered. My heart sank. “What’s wrong?” I asked, panicked. “Grandma said you’ll adopt me out if I’m bad.”
My stomach twisted. “Who said that?” I asked. “Grandma and her friend,” Liam cried. “They said you won’t be my mom soon.” I was shaking.
“That’s not true,” I said. “I’ll always be your mom.” Liam sobbed. “Why did they say it?” I was furious. “Put Grandma on,” I said.
The phone shuffled. Diane’s voice was light. “Liam’s fine,” she said. “He’s just sensitive.” I snapped. “You told him I’d abandon him?”
Diane sighed. “He wasn’t listening. Kids need discipline.” I hung up, grabbed my suitcase, and started packing. Tom woke up, confused.
“Your mom scared Liam,” I said. “She said I’d give him away.” Tom’s face fell. “She wouldn’t.” I glared. “I heard him cry.”
Tom tried calling her. I didn’t wait. I booked a flight home. The drive to Diane’s was a blur. I needed to see Liam, now.
I burst through Diane’s door. She was on the couch, drinking tea, calm. “You’re early,” she said, surprised. “Where’s Liam?” I yelled.
“He’s upstairs, napping,” she said, unbothered. “He was difficult, but I fixed it.” I ran upstairs, heart racing. I opened Liam’s door.
Liam was curled up, clutching his stuffed lion. His face was red, tear-streaked. “Liam,” I said softly. He looked up and ran to me.
“Mom!” he sobbed, hugging me. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave!” I held him tightly, kissing his head. I promised I’d never leave him.
Diane appeared in the doorway. I glared. “Explain,” I said, voice low. She sighed. “You’re overreacting,” she said, crossing her arms.
“You told him I’d give him up,” I said. “You scared him.” Diane shrugged. “Fear teaches respect. It’s how I raised Tom.”
“You don’t scare kids,” I said. “You love them.” She scoffed. “That’s weak.” I saw her clearly now—cold and heartless.
Tom walked in, face pale. “Mom, is this true?” he asked. Diane rolled her eyes. “It’s parenting,” she said. “Fear works.”
Tom’s jaw tightened. “Then don’t be shocked when we put you in a home,” he said. “Fear’s good, right?” Diane froze, speechless.
Tom looked at me. “Let’s go.” I carried Liam downstairs, his arms around me. Diane called out, but we left without turning back.
Diane tried contacting us for weeks. She left messages, showed up, crying. We ignored her at first. Eventually, we gave her a chance.
But she’d never watch Liam alone again. She agreed, but things weren’t the same. Liam changed, too. He was scared, clingy.
He wouldn’t sleep without me. I blamed myself for trusting Diane. I promised Liam I’d always keep him safe, no matter what.
One night, as I tucked him in, Liam hugged me. “You kept your promise,” he said. That was enough to heal my heart.
