My name is Olivia, and I turned 68 this year.
At the end of last year, my husband, with whom I had shared my life, suddenly passed away from cancer. In the wake of his death, I found myself moving in with my eldest son, Noah.
Originally, my husband and I lived in the detached house where Noah’s family now resides. When Noah got married and had his first child, we moved to a nearby one-bedroom apartment, passing the house to him and his family. Noah had just started his own business; with an unstable income and an inability to secure a loan, my husband decided to give them the house for the sake of his grandson. When we handed it over, it was beautifully renovated and felt brand new.
After that, Noah was blessed with three children. We maintained a good relationship, occasionally playing with our grandchildren and celebrating birthdays together at a nearby restaurant. However, when my husband’s cancer was discovered and understood to be terminal, he worried constantly about my well-being. He called Noah and made him promise to take care of me, to have me live with them once he was gone. I tried to reassure my husband, telling him that I was still healthy and could live alone, but he wouldn’t budge. Unable to defy his father’s last wish, Noah agreed.
The truth is, ever since we gave up the house, I hadn’t once been inside. I always hesitated to visit, thinking his wife, Emma, might not appreciate the intrusion. So, when I finally arrived to move in, I encountered a shocking scene.
Trying not to be a burden, I had minimized my belongings. The house was a small two-bedroom, with one room on the second floor and one on the first. When my moving truck arrived, Noah greeted me with a clueless look. “Oh, was today the moving day?” he asked. Noah has always been forgetful, a trait that hadn’t changed even in this upheaval.
As I stepped toward the entrance, I saw shoes piled up like a mountain in the entryway, and a strange smell emanated from within. From the outside, the house looked fine, so I was taken aback. Without showing much concern, Noah muttered, “I only took her in because Dad said so. Honestly, there’s no space here,” before turning his back and going inside.
With no other choice, I quietly followed him. The first floor was completely cluttered. The living and dining areas were filled with old shopping bags and trash. It looked like one of those hoarder houses you see on TV, and I was stunned.
Emma, Noah’s wife, then rose from the sofa where she’d been lying. “Mom, I don’t have extra beds, so please just make some space for yourself,” she said, before lying back down. “I’m tired from work.” She runs a beauty salon and, according to Noah, earns quite a bit.
I glanced at Noah, who just said, “I’m also tired from work, so could you clean up the room a bit?” before heading upstairs.
As I started to organize the cluttered room designated for me, Emma shouted from the living room, “Hey, the stuff in the corridor is in the way!”
I quickly replied, “I’m sorry!” and moved my things aside.
“It’s fine if you clean, but don’t throw anything away,” she added, before returning her attention to the TV.
After tidying up enough space to sleep, I was exhausted. Emma peaked into the room. “Aren’t you going to help with dinner?”
Startled, I jumped up, realizing it was already dinner time, and hurried to the kitchen. The kitchen was a mess, but Emma seemed unfazed as she fried a large amount of meat. When I asked if I could help, she pointed to a mountain of dirty dishes and said, “You can do the dishes.” Then she added, sounding rather displeased, “I thought you’d order food delivery for occasions like this.”
For a moment, I wondered about the norms in this house. Nevertheless, I responded with a smile. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thoughtful. Today was so hectic. How about we order delivery tomorrow?” This seemed to improve her mood a bit, as she replied with a faint smile, “Yes, let’s do that.”
I tried to be understanding. With three young kids and Emma working as a salon manager, I could see how the house might get messy. That evening’s dinner was just a pile of fried meat and bread, with no vegetables or soup. Interestingly, despite living in such a messy house, Emma was particular about her family’s appearance. She insisted on washing any clothes worn even once and was strict with her kids about not dirtying their outfits. Outside the home, they were always impeccably dressed, which is why we never noticed the true state of their house.
The next day, I began cleaning diligently. Of course, for things I couldn’t determine as trash, I neatly lined them up for Emma to check when she returned from work. With the sheer amount of garbage, I had to ask for her confirmation almost every day, and she started to sound dismissive, often saying, “It’s fine, just throw it away.” I didn’t want to touch other people’s belongings, but the clutter was suffocating. Besides, it was originally my house, and seeing it in such a state made me sad.
After about a month, I finally finished sorting through the garbage, and the house started to look decent. The grandchildren were overjoyed. “It looks like a house from TV!” they exclaimed, rolling around on the clean carpet. They even stopped their habit of throwing half-eaten snacks around. Noah and Emma didn’t thank me, but since I had taken the initiative, I wasn’t bothered by it.
However, I was unaware that Emma, rather than appreciating my efforts, was complaining behind my back. “What’s with that sarcastic mother-in-law?” I heard her say one night. “No one in this family complained or even asked her to do it.”
I had gotten up to use the bathroom and overheard Noah and Emma drinking and talking. Noah, instead of defending me, sided with her. “Don’t say that,” he said weakly, “but I wouldn’t have taken my retired mom in without Dad’s insistence.”
Feeling down and wondering where I had gone so wrong in raising him, I silently returned to my room. Seeing myself sleeping quietly, surrounded by luggage in a dimly lit space, I felt pathetic. But then I thought of my grandchildren growing up in such an unhygienic environment and consoled myself that what I did was right.
From then on, whenever I was cleaning, Emma would pretend not to notice and simply go elsewhere. Moreover, the meals remained the same: always just meat and bread. Unable to stand it any longer, I suggested making a stew, explaining that we all needed to eat vegetables. Emma became upset. “Do as you please, but buy the ingredients yourself,” she snapped, turning away. After that, she left the cooking entirely to me.
The grandchildren, who were possibly vitamin-deprived, began to improve in complexion as they enthusiastically ate the fruits and vegetables I prepared. Naturally fond of the person who serves them good meals, they began to grow more affectionate towards me, making requests like, “Grandma, put a fried egg on the curry!” One day, when Emma was out late, my youngest grandchild crawled into my bed to sleep with me. From then on, they all wanted to sleep with me, even when their parents were home. This probably upset Emma even more.
This lifestyle, with me managing all the cooking and cleaning, continued for about six months. Then, talk of a family trip during the summer vacation came up. My son and his wife were excitedly looking at travel brochures, so I assumed I would be house-sitting and was actually relieved. However, my eldest grandchild suddenly approached them and insisted, “Grandma’s coming too, right?” Despite his parents’ reluctance, they had to agree since the child was so adamant.
Emma, clearly displeased, tasked me with preparing breakfast boxes for the road and doing all the laundry before we left, emphasizing that it was the “least I could do” since I was being invited.
The trip was a nightmare from the start. Being elderly, I frequently needed restroom breaks during the long drive, which visibly irritated Noah and Emma. The grandchild who had insisted I come started to feel guilty and rushed me. When Noah reprimanded the child, saying it was their fault we were delayed, the child began to cry loudly. The tense atmosphere worsened, with Emma muttering complaints under her breath.
Upon reaching the amusement park, I tried to distance myself. “I’ll be at the cafe,” I told them. “You all go have fun.” The children cheered up and ran toward the rides. Before leaving, Emma came back to remind me explicitly to pay for my own expenses.
The amusement park wasn’t a place for the elderly, and the cafe quickly became crowded. Feeling guilty for taking up a table, I stepped outside and mindlessly sat on a bench. Though I had worn a hat, the midsummer sun was harsh. I must have been more exhausted than I realized, having been up since early morning preparing lunch and doing laundry.
The next thing I knew, I was in the amusement park’s medical room. I overheard someone who looked like a doctor scolding my son and his wife. “How can you just leave an elderly person alone like that?” It seemed I had suffered a mild heat stroke.
Noah and Emma looked clearly upset. They decided to head back to the hotel with me. After checking in and leading me to my room, they told me, “Please don’t cause any more trouble,” and left.
Lying alone in the quiet, air-conditioned room, I began to ponder what I was doing with my life. I had always been too busy with household chores and looking after my grandchildren to have such thoughts. This vacation was clearly not planned with my well-being in mind. I gazed at the ceiling and thought, If I were to grow old and fall truly ill, they would probably leave me unattended just like this. Even now, while I managed their entire household, I was treated as nothing more than a burden. I realized I had harbored hopes for the son I had raised with such love, but those hopes were misplaced. I decided I needed to prepare myself for the worst and drifted into sleep.
Around 6:00 p.m., I heard my grandchild’s voice. “Grandma, are you okay?”
I opened my eyes. It was my eldest grandchild, looking at me with concern. He seemed to have come back from the amusement park early because he was worried. Behind him, his parents, Noah and Emma, were whispering amongst themselves.
My grandchild said, “Mom, Dad, I need to talk to Grandma. Can you stay here for a bit?” Since there were play areas in the hotel, they took the younger children with them.
Once they were gone, Emma’s demeanor changed instantly. She snapped, “You should know better. Isn’t it a luxury for someone like you to be on vacation? You should go home and clean since you’re so good at it.”
The trip was planned for two more days. I responded innocently, “You want me to go back now? By train?”
My son, Noah, replied angrily, “What else do you expect? We only took you in because of Dad’s last wish. Don’t think you can freeload on this vacation!”
That statement solidified a vague resolution that had been forming in my mind. I had to cut ties with them.
I sat up, packed my things, and called the front desk to arrange for a taxi. My grandchildren noticed and came over. Thinking this might be our last meeting for a while, I said, “I’m not feeling well, so I’m going home early. Enjoy yourselves.” They seemed to sense something was amiss but simply replied with a smile, “Okay, get well soon.”
I gave the taxi driver my home address in the city. “Are you sure you want to go that far?” he asked. I showed him my platinum credit card and asked if it was alright to pay with it. He thanked me and drove me home quietly, ensuring I was comfortable for the long ride.
Once home in my old condo, which was fortunately still vacant and up for rent, I began to plan. The next day, after arranging for my remaining belongings to be moved, I called a real estate agent. “I want to sell that house,” I said.
A week later, my son was furious on the phone. The real estate agent had come for the house’s evaluation. I went over to their house and calmly said, “I’ve decided to cut ties with you. So, I’ve also decided to sell this house. After all, the key to cleaning is to throw away unnecessary things.”
Both Noah and Emma looked puzzled. “Wait, wasn’t this Dad’s house? Then I should have inherited it from his estate!” Noah exclaimed.
“Exactly,” I replied. “This is supposed to be part of my husband’s property, right?”
“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” he shouted.
I sighed and asked him, “You say you inherited it. Do you remember changing the ownership of this house?”
He hesitated. “No… but I just assumed it became mine.”
“That’s not the case,” I replied calmly. “Because this house is under my name.”
The two of them looked baffled. “What do you mean?”
“That’s what I mean,” I said. “Also, prepare yourself, because I’m going to stop the financing to your company.”
“Financing? What are you talking about?” my son said, his face draining of color. I always knew he was forgetful, but this was astounding.
“Noah, don’t you remember?” I continued. “Every month, I have been transferring a significant amount of money to your bank account. It was under the agreement that you use it for business expenses.”
Noah stammered, “I… I saw that money. I thought Emma was earning it.”
Emma was also shocked, confronting Noah. “You mean you weren’t the one earning all that?”
When Noah and Emma got married, he didn’t have enough capital for his business. Being fond of my grandson, I decided to provide financing. Since it would likely be considered an inheritance if it was under an individual’s name, I set up a personal asset management company to make the investment. I believed I had explained it to Noah properly at the time. However, as the years passed, he must have mistaken it for Emma’s income. Coincidentally, the name of my asset management company sounded similar to Emma’s beauty salon, which probably added to the confusion.
Noah suddenly exclaimed, “Wait! There were investments even after Dad passed away… so it’s not Emma’s company, right?”
“I’ve been telling you,” I said, my voice firm. “I am the CEO of that company.”
Noah stared at me as if he’d been shot. Emma was equally shocked.
“I kept silent because I didn’t want to tarnish your father’s reputation,” I explained, “but the one who had the assets was me. I inherited them from my parents. This inheritance was my personal property, so it never became joint property with my husband.”
“Wait… what? Hold on,” Noah stammered. “Wasn’t it something Dad had?”
“As I’ve told you repeatedly, your father had almost no inheritance of his own. It’s natural to assume one would inherit from their father, but to assume you would inherit property without any formal procedures… it makes me doubt your intellect, son.”
The initial reason Noah started his own business was that he kept getting fired from every job he had. “They just don’t see my worth,” he would say. We weren’t sure how to help, but we knew that letting him have free rein with the inheritance money wouldn’t end well, so we kept providing capital as structured loans and investments. Noah mistakenly thought of it as Emma’s income and used it for both living expenses and his business. Meanwhile, Emma’s salon was not doing well and had almost no income, but she had been carelessly relying on Noah’s perceived earnings.
“I thought I was going to inherit this house!” Noah said, desperate. “I’d always listened to what Dad said!”
Emma, spitting with anger, glared hatefully at Noah. “Wait, wasn’t this house under your name when we married? The renovation was already finished, so I thought you bought it!”
I was utterly exasperated with both of them. “From now on, you two will have to handle your own matters,” I declared, preparing to leave.
Just then, Emma grabbed my shoulder tightly. “Mother-in-law,” she trembled, “don’t you care about your precious grandchildren?”
Coldly, I replied, “Children can’t choose their parents. I may have made mistakes raising my son, but indulging their father any further won’t be good for my grandchildren, either.”
With that, I left. Behind me, I could hear Noah and Emma bitterly blaming each other. “It’s your fault!” “What about you?!”
In the end, the house was sold. Lacking operational funds, Noah’s business went bankrupt shortly after, and the couple divorced. Neither of them wanted custody, so I became the legal guardian of my three grandchildren.
As for Noah and Emma, they disappeared. I have no idea where they are or what they’re doing.
With proper discipline, the oldest grandchild learned to cook, the middle one picked up cleaning, and the youngest mastered tidying up. They seem to have learned that they must fend for themselves and are now able to handle household chores efficiently without my intervention. I am grateful that I was able to pass on these essential lessons to my grandchildren. And now, besides their housework and studies, they also take good care of me.