I left my six-year-old son with my mother-in-law for a week — then he called me in tears
When my husband and I finally left for our honeymoon, I thought everything was perfectly planned.
We’d already had to postpone the trip once, because our son Ethan had caught a nasty flu.
This time, nothing was supposed to ruin our long-awaited week of rest.
Ethan was six — curious and talkative, always torn between wanting to be grown-up and needing his stuffed animal to fall asleep.
I was nervous about leaving him, but my mother-in-law, Monique, had insisted:
— Don’t worry! I raised two boys on my own, a week with my grandson will be easy.
I wanted to believe her.
She lived nearby, in a quiet neighborhood, and had always been kind to Ethan — though sometimes a bit overbearing.
Still, a faint uneasiness tugged at my heart.
The first few days by the sea were wonderful — the sound of the waves, the laughter, the peace.
Every evening, we called Ethan. He seemed happy:
— Grandma made pancakes for dinner!
— Tomorrow we’re going to the zoo!
Everything was fine… until Wednesday night.
My phone rang: “Grandma M.”
When I picked up, I heard Ethan crying…
The moment I heard his voice, my whole body froze.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst.
My hands were shaking, my throat tightened.
— Ethan… what’s wrong, sweetheart? I asked, barely able to speak.
The silence that followed was more terrible than any scream.
— Mommy! I’m scared…
(Read the rest in the first comment 👇👇👇👇👇👇)
Grandma’s gone! It’s dark, and I heard a noise outside!
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
— Ethan, lock your door! Stay on the phone!
While I was trying to calm him down, I called the police from my husband Lucas’s phone.
Those ten minutes of waiting felt like an eternity.
Then Ethan whispered:
— Mommy, the police are here.
They found the house empty — no intruder, just a window shutter banging in the wind.
But Monique was nowhere to be found: her phone was off, her car gone.
The next morning, we took the first flight home.
Ethan threw himself into my arms, trembling, clinging to me as if he’d never let go.
And me, relieved but furious, I had only one question in my mind:
— Where is she?
While I was speaking to comfort him, I called the police again.
Ten minutes of absolute anguish.
Then I heard his little voice:
— Mommy, the police are here.
Huge relief. He was safe.
The noise had come from a banging shutter.
But where was Monique, my mother-in-law?
No answer. Phone off, car gone.
Ethan said she’d been gone for hours.
We took the first flight in the morning.
When I finally held my son in my arms, he was still shaking.
I was relieved… and furious.
She came back that afternoon, looking annoyed to find us there.
— Oh, come on, I was only gone a few hours! No need to act like it’s the end of the world!
I exploded:
— A few hours? You left a six-year-old child alone at night!
She shrugged:
— When Lucas was little, I used to go out all the time. You young people make a fuss about everything.
No apology. No remorse.
That night, Ethan whispered to me:
— Mommy, Grandma was mad at me…
I said I wanted to go home, and she called me ungrateful and left.
My blood ran cold.
It wasn’t a mistake — it was punishment.
Lucas called her, furious:
— You left my son alone because he upset you?!
She replied coldly:
— He needs to learn you can’t manipulate people with tears. You’re raising him too softly.
That was the last time we spoke to her.
Ethan had nightmares for weeks, until a therapist helped him find a bit of peace again.
Months later, Monique tried to approach him outside school.
Ethan hid behind me:
— I don’t want to go with her.
I looked her straight in the eye:
— You lost that right the day you abandoned him.
Even today, I still tell myself:
Love doesn’t mean accepting everything.
It means protecting what you love — even from your own family.
