**Diary Entry**
Mum, how long are you planning to stay here?
In the dreary little town of Blackwood, where grey council houses huddled together against the bitter wind, Anna’s parents had done everything to give their daughter a good education and a stable future. By her fourth year at university, she met Oliver—a lad from a modest family but with grand ambitions. Anna’s mother, Margaret, watched him with unease. He struck her as too much of a dreamer, but she bit her tongue—let Anna choose her own path in love. And love blinded Anna completely. To her, Oliver was everything, and no whisper of doubt from her mother could sway her.
The wedding was a quiet affair, just family and a few friends. There wasn’t enough money for anything lavish. Oliver poured all his time into his studies, refusing part-time work to stay focused on his goals. His parents, simple folk, offered little help, and expecting more from them was pointless. Their indifference hung thick in the air, like the fog over Blackwood’s river.
Then came the question: where would they live? Around that time, Margaret’s father passed, and her family made a painful choice—to give their flat to the newlyweds and move in with an elderly aunt to care for her. For Anna and Oliver, it was a godsend—rent was out of reach, and Anna’s Blackwood residency barred them from student housing. They accepted without a second thought, never weighing the cost her parents paid.
Life wasn’t a fairy tale. Oliver buried himself in research while Anna, fresh from uni, took a job. Children? Out of the question—they barely scraped by, pinching every penny. Her parents helped where they could, but soon another blow struck: Anna’s grandmother died. The flat went to Margaret and her brother. After heated debates, they agreed Margaret, having cared for her mother three years, deserved the larger share. They sold it, split the money, and with her portion, Margaret bought a two-bed in an ageing building. The place needed serious work, but hiring builders was beyond their means.
With hope, they turned to their daughter: “Anna, love, we can’t afford labour. We were counting on Oliver to help your dad, while you and I handle the smaller jobs.” They expected gratitude—after all, they’d given up their home for them. But what they got was frost. Oliver snapped: “Why didn’t your parents think ahead? Why buy a wreck if you can’t afford the repairs? They could’ve got a decent one-bed instead of dragging us into this. My parents live within their means—they don’t saddle us with their problems. I’m preparing my PhD defence—I haven’t got time to swing a hammer!”
Flustered, Anna relayed his words: “You know how driven Oliver is. If he doesn’t defend this year, he’ll lose his shot at a contract in Sweden. Others have done it—they’re thriving now. Maybe start the repairs yourselves, and I’ll pop by after work? Or save up for builders later.” The words cut Margaret and her husband deep. They’d given up their home, and now they were accused of burdening their lives.
Resentment burned. So, her parents moved back in—taking the larger room, leaving Anna and Oliver the small one. Two weeks later, Anna approached her mum, voice trembling: “Mum… how long are you planning to stay? Oliver can’t work like this, and we’re always in each other’s way.” Margaret met her gaze, weary but firm. “Anna, you’re no bother. But we won’t move out for three years. We haven’t the strength for repairs, and saving for builders takes time. We’ll manage till then.”
“Three years?!” Anna shrieked. “We’re at breaking point already! Oliver and I row non-stop—we’ll divorce before you leave!” Her father, silent till then, added: “Let Oliver’s parents help. They’ve not spent a penny—always leant on us. We gave you a home, and not even a thanks. Think on that.”
The family teetered on the edge. Daily rows between Anna and Oliver, her parents’ bitterness swelling like a storm cloud. Who knows how it ends? Maybe divorce is inevitable. Oliver repaid kindness with spite, and now reaps his ingratitude. Or are her parents, blinded by hurt, wrecking their daughter’s life?
What do you think? Were they right to teach the young ones a lesson? Or was it just pride talking?
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes, sacrifices given freely become chains when gratitude is absent. And not every bridge burnt leaves you warm.
