“I knew you’d love it!” he beamed.
I did love it. I really did. But one problem loomed.
“When would I have time for this? I barely have time to sit down.”
“Well, that’s where my second surprise comes in. Mom is coming to stay with us. She’ll help with the kids so you can focus on yourself a little more.”
“Your mom? Living here?”
“It’s just for a little while,” he assured me. “She really wants to help, and it’ll make things easier for you.”
Help wasn’t a bad thing, right? In theory, having another adult around should make things smoother. But the reality of it?
There were things I knew about Marian that made my stomach twist at the thought of sharing a roof with her. Still, I swallowed my unease. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe this would be… good. Or maybe I was about to make a huge mistake.
The day Marian arrived, I tried to make everything perfect. The kids cleaned their rooms—well, mostly. The smell of cherry pie filled the kitchen. It was my signature dessert, the one everyone raved about. Even Marian. Maybe this would help set a positive tone.
A car engine rumbled outside. She had arrived.
I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped onto the porch, forcing a welcoming smile. But the moment I saw them…
Marian stepped out first, looking as put-together as ever. But my eyes weren’t on her. They were on the man beside her.
Greg.
“Kayla, meet Greg, my dear friend!” Marian announced cheerfully.
I forced a polite nod, though something felt off. I glanced at Oliver, who looked just as surprised as I was. But as always, he remained courteous.
“I suppose… it’s fine if you both stay for a while,” he said.
Greg grinned. “Appreciate it, man.”
Marian beamed. “Oh, this will be wonderful!”
I didn’t share her enthusiasm.
Greg was overly comfortable, settling in as if he belonged. Meanwhile, I set the table with Marian, who hummed happily.
“Now our family is complete!” she declared, pouring herself a cup of tea.
Later that night, I padded downstairs for a glass of water. As I passed the guest room, a sliver of light spilled into the hallway. I was about to turn away when I heard it.
“I just don’t have patience for kids,” Greg’s voice was hushed but firm.
I froze.
“Oh, come on, just be nice,” Marian murmured.
Greg sighed. “I am trying, but this isn’t what I signed up for.”
My pulse pounded in my ears.
I stepped into the doorway. They turned, startled.
“You have to leave,” I said firmly.
Marian sighed, tilting her head as if I were overreacting.
“Oh, Kayla, always so serious. But if you make us leave, I’ll have no choice but to share some things Oliver might not like hearing.”
A knot formed in my stomach.
“What are you talking about?”
She smiled. “Oh, sweetheart, I know many things.”
The following days were exhausting. From the moment Oliver left for work, Marian and Greg acted like they were on an all-inclusive vacation—except I was the staff.
“Kayla, bring me some coffee,” Marian called out cheerfully from the couch, eyes glued to the TV.
“The coffee maker is right there,” I replied.
“But you make it so much better, dear.”
Greg, lounging nearby, turned to my son. “Hey, kid, grab me a drink.”
Arthur didn’t move. He just stared at Greg, lips pressed into a thin line.
“He’s not your waiter, Greg,” I said, stepping between them.
Greg sighed. “Then you bring it.”
That was just the start. Laundry? I did it for six people. Cooking? Marian and Greg expected meals to appear like magic. Weekends? Marian invited guests, turning my home into a social hub I never signed up for.
When Oliver came home, everything looked… normal. The house was spotless, the kids were happy, and Marian and Greg sat sipping tea like model guests.
“Why do you look so exhausted?” Oliver asked one evening. “Mom is helping, isn’t she?”
I stared at him, then at Marian, who gave me a sweet, knowing smile. Then at the kitchen, gleaming as if no one had spent the entire day slaving away in it.
“Yes… helping,” I murmured, forcing a smile.
I had to stop this. But I needed help.
One morning, I made a call. Later that day, there was a knock at the door. I opened it. Oliver’s father, Thomas, stood there.
Oliver froze. Marian’s face went pale. Greg shifted uncomfortably.
“Dad?” Oliver’s voice cracked. “I thought you—”
“That’s not true, son,” Thomas said gently. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
Marian stiffened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Oliver looked between them, confusion clear on his face. “Mom?”
Marian’s expression faltered, but before she could spin another tale, Thomas spoke. “You deserve the truth.”
The conversation that followed changed everything.
Marian and Greg left that afternoon.
Thomas stayed. Oliver needed time to process, to unlearn the past, and to rebuild what had been broken.
That night, the house was finally quiet. I walked into the kitchen, opened my laptop, and enrolled in that pastry course.
I was finally free.