Who's Mom?

Lena sat on the edge of her youngest son’s bed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. His big brown eyes looked up at her, troubled.

"Grandma said she’s my mom now," he whispered. "She said you don’t take care of us like she does."

Lena’s stomach twisted. She had heard the whispers before, seen the subtle ways her mother-in-law, Janet, inserted herself into their lives, but hearing it from her six-year-old made it real in a way that left her breathless.

"I’m your mom, sweetheart," Lena said gently, forcing her voice to stay even. "No one can change that."

"But she says she’s Mom too."

Lena sighed and kissed his forehead, murmuring a goodnight before switching off the light.

A Family Divided

It had started small—little comments, subtle corrections.

"Come to Mom, baby," Janet would say, arms outstretched.

"You know I love you more than anyone," she’d whisper as she tucked them in at night.

At first, Lena thought she was imagining it, brushing it off as grandmotherly affection. But then the children started pulling away.

"Grandma says we live here now," Lena’s daughter, Ellie, had said last week, arms crossed defiantly. "Why can’t we just stay?"

Because this isn’t your home, Lena had wanted to scream.

Janet had taken the children in when Lena was at her lowest, struggling after the divorce. It was supposed to be temporary—a few months while Lena got back on her feet. But as time passed, Janet’s grip on them tightened.

She spoiled them, catered to their every whim, and most dangerously, rewrote their reality.

"Your mom left you, but I was here," she told them one evening, thinking Lena wasn’t listening.

Lena had never left them. She had fought tooth and nail for stability, working late hours to provide for them, slowly building a home for them again.

But Janet was always there, whispering, twisting, undoing.

The Breaking Point

Lena stood in Janet’s living room, heart pounding.

"You need to stop confusing them," she said, voice shaking with restraint. "They have a mother. Me."

Janet smirked, stirring sugar into her tea.

"They need a mother who’s here," she said sweetly. "They need stability, and that’s what I give them. What you couldn’t give them."

Lena clenched her fists.

"I’m their mother. You’re their grandmother."

"Titles don’t matter," Janet said with a dismissive wave.

"They do to them," Lena shot back. "They’re confused. They don’t know who to listen to, who to trust. You’re hurting them, whether you see it or not."

Janet’s expression hardened.

"I’ve done everything for them. If they don’t want to go back with you, that’s their choice."

Lena inhaled sharply.

"They’re children. They don’t get to choose who their mother is."

Janet tilted her head.

"Are you sure about that?"

The Truth Wins

It took weeks of patience, of painful conversations, of unwinding Janet’s manipulations. The children resisted at first, torn between loyalty and love, but the truth—real, unwavering love—slowly took hold.

Lena never gave up.

She showed up, again and again, proving with actions what words couldn’t fix overnight.

And finally, one evening, as she tucked her son into bed in her home, he looked up at her with certainty.

"You’re my mom," he whispered.

And for the first time in a long time, Lena felt whole.