Every Monday morning, my daughter Ava swore she was “too sick” to go to school. Headaches, stomachaches, you name it—she always had an excuse. At first, I thought maybe it was just stress. School could be overwhelming at her age. But the morning I caught her sneaking out, I realized something much bigger was going on.
I decided to follow her. I thought I’d discover the usual teenage drama—an older boy, a secret friend, maybe even a group she was hiding from me. But when I peeked through the coffee shop window, what I saw nearly stopped my heart. She was meeting someone I swore we would never see again.
That morning started like the others. Ava dragged herself into the kitchen, one hand pressed dramatically against her stomach.
“Another stomachache?” I asked, my voice heavy with suspicion. “Ava, this is the eighth Monday in a row. What’s really going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” she muttered, not meeting my eyes. “I just feel sick.”
I studied her face carefully. I’m a nurse, and I can usually tell when someone is faking. But looking at her now, I wasn’t sure if I was seeing my daughter or a stranger.
“Is someone bullying you at school?” I pressed. “Are you stressed about something?”
“No, Mom. I just don’t feel good.”
Her tone was flat, rehearsed almost. I knew she was lying. The problem was, she didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth anymore. We used to be close, but lately, it felt like all I did was nag her—about homework, chores, and eating something besides junk food.
I glanced at the clock. My extra shifts at the hospital were killing me. I was doing it all for her future—her college fund—but in the process, I was losing her.
“Fine,” I sighed, grabbing my car keys. “Stay home. But if this keeps happening, you’re seeing a doctor.”
I was halfway to work when I realized I’d forgotten my ID badge. Groaning, I turned the car around. That’s when I saw her.
Ava was standing at the bus stop. Perfectly fine. No signs of sickness.
My pulse spiked. She wasn’t sick—she was sneaking out.
When the bus came, she climbed on, and I followed. My hands were shaking as I called my supervisor. “I can’t make it in today,” I lied. “Family emergency.”
The bus stopped near a busy street lined with coffee shops and bookstores. Ava got off and disappeared into a café.
I parked and sat there, heart racing. What if she was meeting some older boy? What if she was in trouble?
I crept to the big café window and scanned the room until I saw her. Ava was in the corner, smiling in a way I hadn’t seen in months. She looked… happy.
Then I saw who she was smiling at.
My blood went cold.
Sitting across from her, reaching across the table with that same sweet smile she’d always used to hide her venom, was Eleanor. My ex-mother-in-law.
The woman who had nearly destroyed my life.
I didn’t think—I just acted. I shoved open the café door so hard it banged against the wall.
“Get away from my daughter!”
The entire café went silent. Ava’s eyes went wide as I stormed over.
“Claire, please,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling just enough to sound pitiful. “I just wanted to see my granddaughter. Is that so wrong?”
“Yes!” I snapped, grabbing Ava’s arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“Mom! What are you doing?” Ava cried, pulling away from me.
“Saving you from her,” I hissed, glaring at Eleanor. “Stay away from us. I mean it.”
Eleanor clutched her chest like I’d struck her. “I’m begging you, Claire. Don’t take her away from me again.”
I dragged Ava outside, but the second we were clear of the café, she ripped her arm from my grip.
“What is wrong with you?” she shouted. “You just screamed at an old woman like she was some kind of criminal!”
“She is dangerous.”
“Grandma Ellie is nice!”
“She’s not,” I said firmly. “You have no idea what she’s capable of.”
“Then explain it!” Ava demanded. “Because so far, she’s been nothing but kind to me.”
Her words hit me like a punch. She sounded exactly like Eleanor. I felt sick.
“How did you even find her?” I asked.
“She found me on Instagram.” Ava yanked out her phone, scrolling fast. “Look.”
She shoved it in my face. Message after message—sweet, nostalgic, dripping with guilt and self-pity. Eleanor’s specialty.
“See? She’s nice, Mom. She just wants to know me, like I want to know her. And if you hadn’t cut her and Dad out of our lives—”
“I did that to keep us safe,” I snapped.
Ava’s voice rose. “From what? A little old lady who bakes cookies? A firefighter who saves lives? Grandma Ellie was right—you’re just controlling. You cut them out of my life out of spite. But I’m not a little kid anymore. I deserve to know my family!”
I felt the ground slipping from under me. “Is this why you’ve been faking being sick every Monday? To see her?”
“Yes.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “And I want to meet my dad too.”
“Absolutely not!”
“Then tell me why!” she shouted.
We were nose to nose now, neither of us willing to back down. I realized then—if I didn’t tell her the truth, I was going to lose her.
Back home, I sat her at the kitchen table. “Your father and I married young,” I began. “He swept me off my feet. Flowers, sweet words, everything. But once I was pregnant with you, the mask came off.”
I told her everything—how Chris had expected me to serve him like a maid, how Eleanor told me to “stop complaining and be a good wife.” How the cheating started. How Eleanor defended him, saying it was my fault.
Ava looked horrified. “She said that to you?”
“Yes. And when I finally left him, she tried to take you away from me. She called CPS, said I was unfit. She told the court I’d stolen you. She even tried to get me fired from my job.”
I pulled out the manila folder with all the documents. Custody papers. Restraining orders. CPS reports. Proof of everything.
Ava’s hands trembled as she flipped through them. “This… this is real?”
“Every word,” I said softly.
Her phone chimed. Eleanor. Asking if I’d hurt her.
Ava’s jaw tightened. “I’m going to tell her off.”
“No,” I begged. “Don’t answer. Don’t get dragged in.”
But Ava shook her head. “No, Mom. It’s time to end this. You’ve been running from them for years, but I’m not going to anymore. I’m going to meet her again—this time with you there.”
We returned to the café. Eleanor was already waiting, smiling wide when she saw Ava.
“Sweetheart, I was so worried about you,” she cooed.
Ava didn’t move. Her voice was sharp. “You lied to me.”
Eleanor flinched. “No, darling, everything I told you—”
“Was manipulation,” Ava cut her off. “I’ve seen the court documents. The restraining order. You tried to destroy my mom.”
Eleanor’s smile cracked. Tears welled in her eyes, fake as ever. “I just wanted to be in your life—”
“No,” Ava said firmly. “You wanted control. And you don’t get it anymore. I’m blocking your number. Don’t contact me again.”
She turned and walked out, leaving Eleanor stunned at the table.
I lingered for a moment, meeting Eleanor’s hateful glare. For the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid.
“Stay away from my daughter,” I said quietly. Then I followed Ava out.
The car ride home was silent, but not heavy like before. It felt… lighter.
“I wanted her to be good,” Ava whispered finally. “I wanted to believe someone wanted me for me.”
I reached for her hand. “You’ve always been wanted, Ava. Always. I went through hell to keep you safe. I’d do it again.”
Her fingers squeezed mine back. For the first time in months, we felt like a team again.
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Mom,” she said softly. “I should’ve trusted you.”
“You shouldn’t have had to,” I admitted. “I should have told you the truth from the beginning.”
