When Mila’s in-laws kicked her out with her newborn baby, she was devastated. Little did they know, their actions would come back to haunt them in ways they never imagined.
Hey everyone, Mila here! Being a busy mom of a one-year-old keeps me on my toes, but that’s nothing compared to the shocker I got recently. Ever wondered how you’d feel if your in-laws kicked you out of the house with your newborn baby? Because let me tell you, that’s what happened to me…
So, here’s the deal. Living with my hubby Adam’s folks, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, seemed like a sweet idea at first. You know, the whole “big happy family” thing. Turns out, sugarcoating a cactus doesn’t make it any less prickly.
Their daily arguments were like clockwork. Every. Single. Day.
It always started over the dumbest things, like the TV remote. My sweet MIL wanted her evening soap operas, while my ever-so-enthusiastic FIL needed his baseball fix.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t escalate into yelling matches that could wake the dead, let alone a cranky newborn.
Honestly, I just tuned it out most of the time. But with my little Tommy finally asleep after a rough night, the yelling started again.
I was fuming. Here I was, rocking Tommy back to sleep for the hundredth time, and they were downstairs going at it like toddlers over a bucket of Legos. Finally, I snapped.
I stormed downstairs, ready to unleash the mama bear within. But before I could launch into a lecture, I saw them sprawled on the couch, cool as cucumbers between their yelling sessions.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “just so you know, the baby’s sleeping.”
“What’s your point?” Mr. Anderson replied, barely glancing up from the TV.
“My point,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm, “is that your shouting is waking him up.”
“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Anderson chimed in, rolling her eyes. “Babies need to get used to noise.”
“I think we can argue quietly,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “Just for tonight.”
Mrs. Anderson scoffed, “You know, Mila, when Adam was a baby, he slept through anything. Maybe Tommy just needs to toughen up.”
I bit my tongue. “Maybe. But right now, he’s just a baby who needs sleep.”
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “just so you know, the baby’s sleeping.”
“What’s your point?” Mr. Anderson replied, barely glancing up from the TV.
“My point,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm, “is that your shouting is waking him up.”
“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Anderson chimed in, rolling her eyes. “Babies need to get used to noise.”
“I think we can argue quietly,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “Just for tonight.”
Mrs. Anderson scoffed, “You know, Mila, when Adam was a baby, he slept through anything. Maybe Tommy just needs to toughen up.”
I bit my tongue. “Maybe. But right now, he’s just a baby who needs sleep.”
Then, I turned on my heel and marched back upstairs. A few seconds later, I heard Mr. Anderson’s booming voice erupt.
“How dare she?!” he hollered, his voice laced with venom. And then some real “nasty” words boomed which I can’t share here but hope you understand the kind of things he’d said.
Then, he burst into my room, without even having the basic decency to knock.
“Just so you know, you don’t shush me in my own home. This is MY HOUSE. I gave my son the money to buy it, so you don’t get to tell me what to do. If you think you’re so smart, then take the baby and go live with your mom where it’s comfy and quiet. Maybe when my son’s back from his business trip, he’ll think about letting you come back.”
Ugh. Did he seriously just call this HIS HOUSE? And the tone?
My blood pressure shot up, but I held my tongue. Maybe he was just mad and wouldn’t mean it in the morning.
Morning came, and the hope I clung to vanished faster than a free donut at the office. I found my MIL in the kitchen, humming along to the radio like nothing happened.
“Hey, mom,” I started, hoping for a flicker of remorse. “About what Dad said yesterday—”
She cut me off with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Honey,” she chirped, “my husband has a point. It’s his house, after all. You know, boundaries and all that.”
“Boundaries?” I repeated, incredulous. “Like the boundary that separates a grown woman from wanting a peaceful home for her child?”
“Now, Mila, there are certain ways things work around here,” my mother-in-law said, taking a pointed sip from her coffee cup. “Living in a joint family means respecting how we do things. You can’t order us around.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could unleash another mama bear roar, my FIL materialized in the doorway, looking like a thundercloud on legs.
Tears pricked my eyes.
Here I was, a new mom with a screaming baby, and my in-laws were practically shoving me out the door. Hurt and angry, I stormed back to my room, tears streaming down my face.
I packed a bag for myself and Tommy, my hands shaking with rage and disbelief.
As I walked out the door, not a single goodbye came from either of them. They just slammed the door shut behind me, leaving me feeling utterly alone.
The next few days were a blur at my mom’s place. My haven felt more like a crowded life raft, but at least it was quiet. I called Adam, who was still on his business trip, and filled him in on everything.
“They what?” Adam’s voice was exploded with fury. “They kicked you out?”
“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Told me to go to my mom’s.”
“I’m coming back,” he said firmly. “I’ll be on the next flight. They can’t do this to you.”
Adam arrived late that very night, his face etched with exhaustion and anger. The moment he walked through the door, he enveloped me in a tight hug, holding Tommy close as well.
“I can’t believe they did this,” he muttered into my hair. “We’re going to sort this out.”
The next morning, we packed up our things and headed back to the Andersons’.
Adam was fuming, but he was determined to have a calm, rational conversation. As soon as we stepped inside, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were waiting, looking smug and unrepentant.
“So,” Adam began, his voice steady but cold, “what’s this about kicking Mila and Tommy out?”
My FIL crossed his arms. “Adam, we discussed this. Our house, our rules. Mila needs to understand that.”
Adam’s jaw tightened. “Dad, this isn’t about rules. You can’t just throw my wife and child out like they’re nothing.”
My MIL sighed dramatically. “Adam, darling, it’s not like that. We just need some peace and quiet around here.”
“Peace and quiet?” Adam’s voice rose. “You call screaming at each other every night peace and quiet? Tommy needs a stable environment, not this… chaos.”
My FIL’s face darkened. “Watch your tone, son. This is our home. If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should leave too.”
I clutched Tommy closer, my heart pounding. This was escalating fast.
Adam took a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep his temper in check.
“Listen, we’re family. We should be able to work this out. But right now, we need to think about what’s best for Tommy.”
My MIL rolled her eyes. “Adam, you’re overreacting. Babies cry. It’s what they do. A little noise isn’t going to hurt him.”
“A little noise?” Adam shook his head in disbelief. “Mom, it’s not just the noise. It’s the constant fighting, the tension. It’s not healthy.”
My FIL jabbed a finger in Adam’s direction. “You think you know better than us? We’ve raised you and your sister. We know what we’re doing.”
“Maybe you do,” Adam said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you can dictate how we raise our son. We need to find a solution that works for everyone.”
Mrs. Anderson snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Of course, my in-laws weren’t happy about it and never spoke a word to me. They kept up their nonstop arguments, louder than ever. I knew they were making noise on purpose this time, but I didn’t say anything.
But here’s the kicker—a couple of days later, the doorbell rang and my FIL opened the door, only to GASP.
Two police officers appeared at the door and ushered my FIL and MIL out. It then came to light that Adam had called the police on his parents for kicking me out of MY OWN house.
The truth hit me like a punch to the gut.
Adam confessed that the money his father gave for the house went to a failed business venture. He then revealed that he bought the house in my name, using all his savings, and kept it a secret from me and his parents.
Fast forward to that evening, I was cradling my baby in the nursery, relieved to be back home, the very place my in-laws had forced me to leave. Then, the phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was my in-laws. I hesitated, but I picked up.
“Mila,” my MIL said, her voice unusually soft, “we didn’t know it was your house. If we had known—”
My FIL cut in, “We’re sorry, Mila. Really. We didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not about knowing whose name is on the deed,” I interrupted. “It’s about what you did. You kicked a woman and her newborn out because you didn’t like something. That’s not okay.”
There was a pause. Then my MIL spoke again, “So, can we come back?”
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s enough for me to know what you’re capable of. I don’t want you in my house anymore.”
Silence. Then a quiet, “Alright,” and they hung up.
I looked at Tommy, peacefully sleeping in his crib. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. “We’re home, buddy,” I whispered, “and we’re staying right here.”
Now, look, I don’t hold grudges. But kicking out a new mom and her baby? Living with family is about compromise, right? These two, though… they acted like they were the king and queen of the castle, and Tommy and I were just guests.
Am I crazy here? Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for listening, everyone.
Here’s another story: When Edith overheard a private talk between her husband and his mother, she unraveled startling truths about their marriage that ended up saving her life.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Man Finds Out about His Bride’s Betrayal – He Goes to the Altar with a Remote Control in His Hands
Man Finds Out about His Bride’s Betrayal – He Goes to the Altar with a Remote Control in His Hands
Daphne is in the middle of her brother’s wedding. As a bridesmaid, she has an obligation to Denise. But when Liam surprises them all with a video revealing Denise’s ultimate secrets, Daphne has no choice but to choose her brother—even if what he did was humiliating for Denise.
As my brother’s wedding approached, excitement buzzed through the air, filling everyone with anticipation. My brother, the groom, was a notorious prankster, and his hints at a major surprise had us all on edge.
I thought he was just creating the drama for effect—Liam was that person.
A smiling man looking at the camera | Source: Pexels
Liam and his fiancée, Denise, had been dating for so long that it didn’t come as a surprise when she asked me to be one of her bridesmaids.
“Please, Daphne,” she asked, gifting me a box full of goodies. “I need you to be there with me on our big day—you’re not just Liam’s little sister, but mine, too.”
Two gift wrapped boxes | Source: Unsplash
Of course, I accepted. Denise did feel like a sister to me—in fact, she was the one who planned my 21st birthday party instead of the friends that I thought would do it.
So, when it came to wedding planning, I think Denise spent more time talking about their wedding to me than Liam.
Gold 21st foil balloons | Source: Unsplash
“I’m just wasting my time with Liam,” she said. “You can make notes for us. And we can do the wedding cake tasting.”
Liam, on the other hand, seemed like he was doing the bare minimum with the wedding—but the reality is that he was busy putting together a beautiful video for the wedding.
A wedding planner and notebooks | Source: Pexels
“I’m going to have it played just before we do our vows,” he said when I went to visit him.
He showed me a folder on his laptop where he was saving all his and Denise’s videos and photos, ready to create the video.
A man using a laptop | Source: Unsplash
“Do you think Liam has cold feet?” Denise asked me when we went wedding shopping.
“No,” I replied honestly. “He’s planning something for you, that’s taking all his time at the moment.”
“What?” she asked enthusiastically.
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” I said. “Now, go and try on dresses!”
A row of wedding dresses | Source: Unsplash
On the morning of the wedding, I got to the hotel suite early. I wanted to see Liam before getting ready with Denise and the other bridesmaids.
“You have no idea what’s coming,” he teased, sipping on a glass of champagne as he got ready.
“Oh boy,” I said. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned.”
Two glasses of champagne | Source: Unsplash
The ceremony was perfect—and everything had gone exactly to plan as Denise wanted.
From the flowers to the music to the scented candles that perfumed the venue. It was all perfect.
When the time came for the vows, my brother told the priest to wait.
A couple kneeling before a priest | Source: Unsplash
“I have something to show you all,” he said. “This is Denise and my love story from the beginning to right now.”
He pulled a remote from his pocket with a flourish, while two of his groomsmen wheeled a TV screen to the middle of the altar, just in front of where Liam and Denise were standing.
“Watch this,” he said, stepping back to join his groomsmen. And then he pressed play.
A person holding a remote control | Source: Unsplash
The screen came alive with their love story—their first kiss, snippets from trips together, cozy nights in, dinners cooked together, and so on.
The montage tugged at heartstrings, and all the guests were enthralled.
A close-up of a couple | Source: Unsplash
But the real shock was still to come.
As the video ended, the priest went back to his position, ready to continue the ceremony from where he left off. He called for Denise and Liam to resume their positions, too.
He solemnly asked if anyone objected.
A couple at the altar | Source: Pexels
Before anyone knew what was happening, Liam dropped Denise’s hand and stepped away, back down the aisle.
“I do,” he declared.
“What?” Denise hissed. “Liam, this isn’t the time for one of your pranks.”
“This isn’t a prank,” he said.
Bride and groom at the altar | Source: Pexels
He held up the remote control again and pressed another button—the air was thick with tension as music began to fill the room.
This new video was a stark contrast—it showed his bride in their shared home, but Denise wasn’t alone.
Instead, she was wearing lingerie and depicted in a compromising situation with another man.
An intimate photo of a couple | Source: Pexels
The room fell deathly quiet, every eye glued to the screen, then slowly turning to gauge her reaction at my brother’s reveal.
Denise turned around slowly to face her guests, her face ghostly pale, her eyes wide with horror.
“This can’t be happening,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Then, the same man from the video swore loudly—he was seated at the back of the venue, dressed in a suit.
A man in a suit | Source: Pexels
“This is why I won’t be marrying Denise today,” Liam said, his loud voice breaking the silence, his tone even but heavy with emotion.
“I couldn’t let us all be here, witnessing what was supposed to be love, without the truth being known.”
The ceremony was ground to a halt, and the festive atmosphere evaporated into a thick, awkward tension.
Denise staggered slightly, looking around as if seeking an escape or an ally. She kicked off her shoes and picked them up.
A bride holding her shoes | Source: Pexels
“It’s not what it looks like,” she said. “Liam, please, not here. Let’s talk about it outside.”
I wanted to be able to look at Denise and feel sorry for her—we had been so close for so many years. But the evidence had been in the video. As close as we were, she was just another cheater.
A woman who had hurt my brother.
She pleaded with Liam again, louder this time. Tears fell down her face.
But the damage was done. My brother’s gaze never wavered from the woman he was supposed to marry.
A crying bride | Source: Pexels
“How long?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
“Not long,” she managed to say, her composure breaking. “I’m so sorry, you were never supposed to know about it.”
“In our own home, though? Seriously, Denise?” my brother retorted sharply, his hurt palpable to all watching.
“You brought him into our home,” he said.
The crowd murmured, some guests shaking their heads, others unable to look away from the unfolding drama.
A couple lying in bed | Source: Pexels
The priest stepped back. I wondered if he was thinking about taking Liam and Denise in for couples’ counseling—something that they had refused when they booked the priest in the first place.
Liam walked out first, abandoning his wedding and all the guests he and Denise had chosen.
Denise ran out behind him, calling out to Liam, but he refused to acknowledge her presence. Her mother ran out behind her.
A bride running | Source: Unsplash
Later, I walked around the hotel to find my brother. I found him sitting at the bar, drinking his feelings away while eating a bowl of olives.
“Did you know?” he asked me.
“No, of course not,” I said quickly.
It turned out that when Liam was going through the videos and photos on his laptop, he ended up looking through Denise’s, too.
A hotel bar | Source: Pexels
“I just wanted to see if there was anything else that I could add to the video,” he said sadly.
I ordered myself a drink and got comfortable next to my brother—from the looks of it, we were going to be there for a long time.
“I went through the first folder,” he admitted. “And it was incredible because she had all these photos that I hadn’t seen before. But in the next folder, there was the video of Denise with that man. It wasn’t even a locked folder, Daphne,” he said.
A cocktail on a tray | Source: Unsplash
We were both silent for a while, and Liam gulped away his drink.
“Do you think I was wrong to expose her?” he asked.
“No,” I said honestly. “But maybe you should have spoken to her privately. There’s no knowing how this could wreck her. Or what she’ll do next.”
I sat back in my seat and helped myself to the bowl of pretzels that the bartender had left out for us.
“I have no intention of checking on her,” Liam said. “I don’t care.”
A bowl of pretzel sticks and nuts | Source: Unsplash
I didn’t have any intention of getting Liam to forgive Denise. There was no point in trying to get him to forgive her after what she had done—Liam had always been sure of one thing. Cheating was the absolute deal breaker in a relationship.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s go eat some wedding cake. That can’t go to waste, too.”
I followed my brother out to the dining room that had been set up for the wedding reception.
I knew that as much as I wanted to check on Denise—Liam needed me in his corner.
A white wedding cake with fruit | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
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