Cameron’s parents thought that they had won the battle they created.

Instead, my mother had called social services, telling them that she had two individuals who were living with her temporarily but needed the help.

The next day, people from social services arrived at my mother’s doorstep, ready to take Jessica and Roger away to their social housing facilities.

They were livid.

Cameron and I met them at my mother’s house because they demanded an audience.

“This is outrageous! We thought we were moving downstairs, not out of the house!” my mother-in-law shrieked.

“How dare she trick us like this! We have done everything for her these past few months,” my father-in-law added.

Beside me, my husband flinched. He was caught in the middle, not knowing what to do or how to react.

“You took advantage of her kindness and tried to push her into a nursing home. You got what you deserved,” I retorted, barely containing my own anger at their words.

“You can’t just throw us out like this!” my mother-in-law protested.

“You’ve got a little place to live now,” my mother said, smiling. “But also, that’s not my problem. I helped you out, and you did nothing but complain. You didn’t want to be here. You were just here because you had no choice. Now, you can learn to fend for yourselves.”

Jessica was appalled. I don’t think she expected my mother to retaliate in that way.

It was true, social services housed them in a little apartment which was close to both their jobs. They would be absolutely fine until they chose to move elsewhere.

As they left, they continued to curse, but it was clear that they had been defeated by the whole episode.

“I’m sorry,” my husband told my mother when we settled her down again. “This was all my fault.”

It took a while for my mother to calm him down and make him realize that nothing was his fault.

“Your parents needed a place to stay, and they were welcome to do so here, but they continued to complain. They made life difficult here. Everything was a problem,” she said.

I continued to work my way around the kitchen while they spoke. I knew that my husband needed a pick-me-up, so I made his favorite Indian dishes, hoping that it would do the trick.

If I had to admit it, I also felt like it was my fault. I should have objected to the move in the first place. But I knew that my in-laws needed a place to live when they lost their homes. And maybe it was because of guilt.

Guilt born from the mere fact that Cameron and I couldn’t do it ourselves, that we both had allowed them to live with my mother.

As we got into bed that night, I told my husband that we needed to see his parents. We needed to make sure that they were okay, despite their horrible behavior, they needed to know that we still cared.

The following day, we met them at their new apartment. It was a quaint little place, but it was just enough for the two of them. As we walked in, there were boxes lying everywhere and the smell of burnt toast permeated the air.

“I didn’t check the toaster setting,” Roger said, as his way of explaining.

We ended up taking them to a café for lunch, where they admitted to their behavior.

“We were in the wrong,” my mother-in-law said. “We know that now. We saw an easy way to live with Tanya, and we just wanted more. But now, we have to make it work for ourselves.”

I dug into my pancakes while Cameron let his parents have a piece of his mind. He went on about how they needed to be responsible for their actions and that nothing would make up for their behavior toward my mother.

“You embarrassed me. And you took advantage of my wife’s mother,” he said. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

I allowed him to talk his way through it, while his parents continued to eat their eggs benedict in silence.

As we drove home, my husband stopped to get my mother a bouquet of flowers.

“She deserves it,” he said.

What would you have done?