I’m 67 years old, and a month ago, I had hip replacement surgery. The doctor told me I needed rest and constant care, so my son Daniel insisted I stay at his house for the first few weeks of my recovery.
I hesitated—I didn’t want to be a burden to him or his wife—but he was so loving that I ended up agreeing.
“Mom, it’ll only be until you feel better. Claire will take care of you,” he said, smiling.
But I soon realized that Claire, my daughter-in-law, wasn’t at all happy about my presence.
For the first few days, she barely spoke to me. She avoided eye contact, sighed in annoyance whenever I asked her for something, and made sure to constantly remind me that the house was hers.
Even so, I tried to stay calm and be kind, even though the physical and emotional pain was increasing.
Things got worse when Daniel had to travel for work for three days.
I was left alone with Claire.
The first morning without him, I asked her for a simple glass of water.
She looked at me coldly and said with disdain,
“How long are you going to continue being a burden in our lives?”
I tried to stay calm.
“Claire, darling, I didn’t mean to upset you…”
She smiled ironically.
“Don’t put on that victim face! Daniel only needs to worry about me, understand? You’re just a weight that prevents us from living in peace!”
That night I cried silently.
The next morning, I heard the sound of the trunk closing. Claire was at the door with the keys in her hand.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said dryly.
I thought we were going to the doctor or the pharmacy, but instead, she took me to a homeless shelter.
“It’ll be better for everyone,” she murmured without looking at me. “And Daniel doesn’t need to know. You don’t want to upset him, do you? Understand?!”
I didn’t answer. I just nodded, swallowing my tears.
When he left, I sat on a bench at the shelter, my suitcase on my knees, my heart shattered.
I waited until Daniel returned from his trip. When I finally managed to call him, my voice was barely a whisper.
Less than an hour later, he appeared—still carrying his suitcase—and hugged me tightly.
“Mom, everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
That night he came home without telling her. He opened the door calmly, pretending everything was fine. Claire was sitting at the table, a glass of wine in her hand, smiling.
“Oh, you’re back!” she said sweetly. “How was the trip?”
Daniel smiled slightly.
“Not bad.” He paused. “Where’s Mom? I thought she’d still be here.”
Claire shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
“She left a few days ago. She said she was feeling better and went back home.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He set his suitcase on the floor, his eyes blazing.
“Oh, I almost forgot…” he said with an icy smile. “I brought you a gift from the trip.”
He placed an elegant box on the table.
“Oh, Daniel!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I hope it’s the bracelet she wanted!”
He opened the lid… and the color drained from his face.
Inside the box was a USB drive and a photo: her, standing in front of the shelter, leaving me there with my suitcase. Daniel stared at her silently as she began to tremble.
“The company car has a front-facing camera, Claire,” he said firmly. “And the airport security guard told me you left alone that morning. So I decided to check the footage.”
Claire tried to speak, but her voice broke. “I… I just wanted to…”
“Stop,” Daniel interrupted. “Pack your things. You’re leaving my house tonight.”
She paled, her hands trembling.
Daniel took a deep breath and added, tears welling in his eyes,
“You’ve destroyed a man’s trust… and your own dignity.”
The next morning, he drove me back home.
He made coffee, straightened my pillows, and smiled at me tenderly.
“Mom, now… everything’s going to be alright.”
And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.
