Meant Well, But It Didn’t Go as Planned

**The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions**

“Yes, I know youre not obliged! But hes your own flesh and blood! Would you really leave the boy without warm clothes in winter? Alex, is this how I raised you?” his mother pressed, her voice sharp with accusation.

The phone lay on the table. After a few explosive family rows, Alex had learned his lessonwhenever his mother called, it was safer to put her on speaker and let Christine join the inevitable conversation. Otherwise, Lydia Petrovna would dismantle them one by later.

“Lydia Petrovna, were not refusing to help,” Christine countered, her voice steady. “But if looking after Slava is too much, let us take him. Emma doesnt mindweve spoken about it.”

A heavy silence followed. Lydia was undoubtedly calculatingwas it better to offload the responsibility or keep her grip on her daughter? The latter won.

“You havent got a clue what youre asking for!” Lydia scoffed. “Neither of you has raised so much as a houseplant. Youre both working all hourswhos going to look after him? Do you think children grow like weeds? They need care, attention, love!”
“I understand that,” Christine replied calmly. “But if it comes to it, wed manage. Id quit my job. Consider it maternity leaveEmmas, not mine.”
“Oh, and how exactly would you live then, moneybags?”
“Youve always said my salary barely covers anything. Wed scrape by without it.”

Lydia fell quiet. Alex exhaled wearilyChristine was still new to the family, but he was already sick of the pressure.

“Fine. Ultimatums now, is it?” Lydia finally muttered. “Go on then. Youre young, stupidyou dont know what youre getting into. Im trying to help, to shoulder this burden for you. But no, youd rather dig your heels in. Just rememberwhile youre busy playing the hero, that child is freezing and falling ill because of you.”

The line went dead. Christine sank beside Alex, wrapping an arm around him, and remembered how it all began.

—
At first, Lydia Petrovna had seemed kindwarm, if a little domineering. She welcomed Christine into her home with smiles long before she became her daughter-in-law. Her tables groaned under feasts, and whenever they left, she loaded them with bags of groceries.

She inserted herself into Christines life effortlessly. Daily calls*How are you? Is Alex treating you right? Come visit!* Once, she even pulled strings to get Christines mother into a private hospital, ensuring VIP care. Christine had been endlessly grateful.

But she noticed other things too. Miss a call or cut one short, and Lydia transformed. Weeks of icy silence followed, her tone dripping with wounded pride, waiting for grovelling apologies.

*”Well, fine. Too busy for me now, are we?”*

Christine would laugh it off, but the *care* felt suffocating, transactional.

Lydia had a daughter tooEmma. She left Christine uneasy. Emma barely smiled, flinched at loud noises, always retreating to her room. Christine chalked it up to teenage angst. Sixteen, after all.

*”What does Emma like?”* Christine once asked before Christmas. *”Im out of gift ideas.”*
*”Nothing,”* Lydia snapped. *”Glued to her phone, miserable over nothing. Useless.”*

That was when Christine knewsomething was very wrong. *Her* mother would never speak of her like that.

Later, she saw it plainly. Lydia could laugh with her, then turn and berate Emmafor unwashed dishes, wrong friends, wrong music. And that was just what Christine witnessed.

No wonder Emma married at eighteen. Not for lovefor escape.

*”That idiot!”* Lydia had raged. *”Hooked up with some loser. Thinks happiness is out there? Hell dump her in a month!”*

With Emma gone, Lydia fixated on Christine and Alex. What had been quirks became unbearableunsolicited advice, surprise visits, *”When are you giving me grandchildren?”*

*”Christine, why dont you quit that shop? They pay pennies,”* Lydia suggested once. *”I could get you something better.”*

By then, Christine knewagree, and shed owe Lydia forever. Ungrateful, of course, for refusing to be controlled.

*”No, thanks. I like my job. The girls there are lovely.”*

Lydias lips thinned. *”Suit yourself. I only want better for you. But if youre happy scraping by…”*

About Emma, Lydia was almost right. The marriage lasted not a month, but eighteen. Just long enough for Emma to have a baby.

Though not close, Emma once broke down, confessing: *”Hes never home. Says hes with friends, but Im not stupid. Hes raised his hand at me…”*
*”Leave him, Emma.”*
*”And go where? My mothers? No thanks. Ill take my chances here.”*

That said everything. Emma would endure anything to avoid Lydia.

Then her husband left*”not ready for family life”* (code for another woman). The baby stayed. Emma moved back, and the torment resumed. *”Useless. Uneducated. Youll die in poverty.”* Still, Lydia watched the baby while Emma worked. Helped financially.

Until Emma snapped. One day, she packed a bag and leftwithout her son.

*”Id take Jack, but where would we go?”* she admitted later. *”Im crashing with a friend. I need to get on my feet. Therapy, maybe. Mum used to push me so far Id… I cant risk losing it with him crying. I need time.”*

With Emma gone, Lydia turned to Alex and Christine. *”That wretched girl abandoned her child! Help me!”*

Christine watched it all, knowing Jack wouldnt thrive under Lydia. Emma still bore the scars of her *love*. Alex rarely stood up to her.

Yet it was *Alex* who suggested taking Jackthough hed never dare tell Lydia. Christine, however, was certain: together, they could do it.

*”Emma, do you want Jack to go through what you did?”* Christine urged. *”Bring him to us.”*
*”Easier said… I cant just wrestle him away.”*
*”Report her. There must be a way.”*
*”Even social services wont touch this. But youre right. Ill think of something.”*

She did. Pretended to return home. Lydia, playing martyr, let her in. Two weeks later, Emma took Jack *”for a walk”*and brought him to Christine and Alex.

What followed was chaos. Threats. Police. *”Theyve stolen my grandson!”* But Lydia failed. Emma ended up hospitaliseda breakdown. Exhausting, but worth it.

Christine quit her job to care for Jack. She didnt mind. Alex earned enough. Theyd already talked about kidsnow fate handed them one. If Emma reclaimed him, fine. If notwell, an unexpected son.

—
Five years later, Emma worked as a call operator, sharing a flat to make ends meet, finally at peace.

*”Mum Christine, look! Me and George built a tower!”* Jack beamed, pointing at a wobbling stack of blocks.

He lived with Emma but spent weekends with them, convinced he had two mums, adoring his little cousin. Christine always bought identical toysshe couldnt favour one child over another.

As for Lydia? They no longer spoke. At first, furious letters piled upthen silence. Rumor had it: her money dwindled, her friends vanished. Many had only tolerated her for favors.

Sometimes Christine pitied heralone, bitter. But watching Jack and George laugh, she knew: thered been no other way. Lydia demanded obedience, forgettingfamilies arent battlefields. Now the *deserters* built their happiness, leaving the past behind.