Grandma's Golden Boy
After divorcing my cheating husband, I took my son and moved back to my mother's house.
The moment we returned, my mother began to dote on my son without restraint. She would even gossip to the neighbors, saying, "Can you believe that deadweight actually gave birth to a son? Why does she get to? A disgrace who got kicked out by her husband has no right to be a boy's mother!"
I knew my son could not grow up in an environment like that, so I made a firm decision to move out and raise him on my own.
Years later, he graduated from college and found a job—nothing high-paying, but stable. Given the state of things, I was genuinely happy for him.
He suggested going back to have a meal with his grandmother to celebrate. I never expected the two of them to join hands and poison me.
As my consciousness faded, I heard their conversation.
"I told you. She can't stand seeing you do well. She's elated after hearing you only make a few thousand a month!"
"It's fine, Grandma. A feminazi like my mom had it coming. I've always known who's truly been good to me. From now on, I'll only take care of you."
My heart turned cold. I had pushed him to study, supported him through college, and taught him to treat others with equality and respect. And this was how he repaid me.
But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment I had just returned to my mother's house with my son.
'If you're so determined to raise him your way, then fine. You can have him all to yourself. Let's see what kind of man a pick-me grandmother like you will raise.'