As a psychologist, Kate often navigates the turbulent waters of troubled relationships. But when Colin’s case takes an unexpected twist, Kate finds herself breaking protocol and stepping into uncharted territory. What secrets lie behind Colin’s fractured family, and can Kate uncover the truth?
I was waiting for a new client, feeling a familiar curiosity and readiness. The man had mentioned over the phone that he was having some problems with his wife. As a psychologist, this was something I often encountered, so it was nothing unusual.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I glanced around my office, making sure everything was in place. The door opened, and I saw Colin, my new client. He was tall and looked a bit nervous.
“May I?” Colin asked, standing hesitantly at the door.
“Yes, of course, come in,” I said with a reassuring smile.
Colin walked in slowly, glancing around before settling on the couch opposite me. He looked nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“So, what brings you here?” I asked, hoping to put him at ease.
“I already mentioned that I have problems with my wife,” he replied in a cold, defensive tone.
I could tell this would be a tough session. “I know, but why don’t you tell me more about it?”
Colin sighed, looking away. “She won’t let me take care of our son. She insists he’s only hers.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And how does that make you feel?” I asked, watching his reaction closely.
“It hurts. He’s my son too,” Colin said, his voice tight with emotion.
I knew that hurt often masked deeper feelings, like anger. “Does it make you angry that you can’t spend time with your son?”
“No, I said it hurts,” he snapped, his frustration evident.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Working with men often meant navigating their reluctance to admit feelings. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”
“Yes, but she ignores me. She says she regrets marrying me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Why do you think she says that?” I asked, trying to understand the root of their issues.
“I don’t know. She keeps saying that our son is only hers and she will never have more children with me. We just had a baby. It should have brought us closer,” Colin said, his voice filled with confusion and pain.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, so you have a newborn?” I asked, understanding more about their situation.
“Yes, he’s just a month old,” Colin replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
“I see. Some women have a hard time after childbirth and fall into a depressive phase. Could it be related?” I suggested, trying to explore all possibilities.
“No, she’s fine. She takes good care of our son,” he said, shaking his head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And what did you mean when you said your wife doesn’t want more children with you?” I asked, sensing a deeper issue.
“She says it’s because I’m a bad father. But she doesn’t even give me a chance to be one,” Colin said, his frustration clear.
His wife’s behavior was strange. Usually, postpartum depression causes a woman to withdraw from everyone, including the child. “I understand your feelings. Can you recall any events that led to this period in your relationship?”
“Not really. Everything was fine. Though, she has this friend, Toby. They spend a lot of time together, and at some point, I even started doubting if the child is mine,” he admitted, his voice filled with insecurity.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Are you against their communication?” I asked, trying to gauge his feelings.
“Of course, who would like their wife spending time with another man?” he said, his anger bubbling to the surface.
“Nowadays, friendships between men and women are quite common, and if there’s no hint of betrayal, I don’t think it’s worth stressing over,” I said, hoping to calm him.
“So, you think she’s cheating on me too?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not what I meant at all,” I clarified, trying to steer the conversation back to his feelings.
“I don’t know, it all seems like cheating to me,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
“Just because they communicate doesn’t mean she’s cheating,” I reiterated, but Colin seemed to ignore my words, twisting everything to fit his narrative. People often do that, living in illusions rather than facing the truth. However, I couldn’t understand what truth Colin was justifying.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at the clock above the couch and realized our session was coming to an end. “Colin, I’m afraid we need to wrap up,” I said gently.
“But I haven’t covered everything. I thought one session would be enough,” Colin said, his frustration evident.
“Many think that, but it’s rarely true. Shall I book you for another session?” I offered, knowing he needed more time.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, please,” he agreed, a bit of hope in his eyes.
We scheduled our next meeting for the following week, and I saw Colin out of my office. “Take care,” I said as he left. Colin just waved goodbye, his mind clearly elsewhere.
I returned to my office and sighed heavily. Some clients drained all my energy, but I loved my job, and it was part of it. So, I sat back in my chair and prepared for the next client, ready to help them navigate their own struggles.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
A week later, Colin was due to see me again. All week, his case had lingered in my mind. I had a nagging feeling that he wasn’t telling me everything.
“Come in,” I called out when Colin knocked on my door. He entered the office, moving slowly. He sat on the couch, avoiding eye contact.
“So, how have you been?” I asked, trying to gauge his mood.
“Same as before,” he replied, sighing. “She hardly talks to me. But she was very kind when Toby, that friend I mentioned, came over.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Yes, I remember. How do you feel about that?” I asked, watching his face.
“I want to punch him,” Colin said, clenching his fists.
Anger can be useful if managed well, but I wasn’t sure Colin could handle it. “What does your wife say about it?” I asked, trying to understand more.
She says they’re just friends. But who calls just a friend to be at the birth?” he said, his voice rising
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
This was interesting. “Can you tell me more about that?” I asked, leaning forward.
“My wife went into labor, but I couldn’t take her to the hospital because my mother had an accident, and I was going to pick her up from the hospital. It was nothing serious, but she was shaken. So I told my wife to call my sister, who lives 20-25 minutes away, to take her to the hospital.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but didn’t your wife also need to go to the hospital? Why didn’t you take her and then go together to your mother?” I asked, puzzled.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Because my mother lives in a neighboring town, and the hospital was there too,” Colin explained, a bit irritated.
“I see. Please continue,” I urged him gently.
“Instead of calling my sister, she called Toby because he supposedly lives closer,” Colin continued, his jaw tightening.
“And that’s why he was at the birth?” I asked, trying to piece it together.
“Yes,” Colin confirmed, his eyes flashing with anger.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“How did you find out about it?” I asked.
“My sister also came to the hospital and recorded a video for me. I saw my wife holding Toby’s hand during contractions. When I brought my mother home, I asked my sister to FaceTime me. I saw Toby comforting my wife, doing everything a husband should do,” Colin said, his voice trembling.
“Why didn’t you go to the birth after taking your mother home?” I asked, sensing there was more to the story.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“My mother said she felt unwell and asked me to stay,” Colin admitted, looking down.
So the mother comes first. That’s always a problem, I thought. When men put their mothers first, the marriage won’t last long. “And you decided to stay with her?” I asked, my tone neutral.
“Yes, and when I came the next day and visited my wife, she wouldn’t even let me hold our son. She said I didn’t deserve it,” Colin said, his voice cracking.
“How did you react?” I asked, giving him space to express his feelings.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I called her a cheater for having another man at our son’s birth,” Colin said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Do you think that was a good idea?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know, but it’s the truth. And she humiliated me in front of our relatives by saying I didn’t deserve to hold our son because I didn’t take her to the hospital. I’ve apologized a thousand times, but she still won’t let me near our son,” Colin said, his voice filled with despair.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
I nodded, letting Colin vent his frustrations. “I did everything for her, and she does this to me. She could have just called my sister, not Toby. Do you understand why I think she’s cheating on me? And I think that’s why she won’t let me take care of our son, because he’s not really mine,” Colin finished, his shoulders slumping.
I sat back, thinking about what Colin had shared. His pain was real, but his perception might be clouded by his anger and jealousy.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
I still felt he wasn’t telling me everything. We discussed the situation again, but I still couldn’t understand why his wife called another man to the birth. Maybe it was some form of revenge for Colin not coming.
After our session ended, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. For the first time in my career, I decided to break protocol. I left work, got in my car, and twenty minutes later, I stood in front of Colin’s house.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I felt nervous and unsure, knowing this was unprofessional. But I also knew I had to talk to his wife to get a better understanding.
I knocked on the door, and after a moment, a tired woman with a baby in her arms opened it. She looked at me, puzzled.
“Excuse me, are you Colin’s wife?” I asked gently.
“Yes, I’m Emily,” she replied, her brow furrowing.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Nice to meet you. My name is Kate. I’m Colin’s psychologist, and I’d like to talk to you if you don’t mind,” I said, trying to put her at ease.
“Alright,” Emily replied, still looking confused. She led me to the living room, and we sat on the couch. The room was cozy, cluttered with baby items.
“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’ll get straight to the point. Colin mentioned that you won’t let him take care of your son,” I said, watching her reaction.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Well, I have my reasons. I don’t trust him, and I can’t trust him with my son,” Emily replied firmly.
“Is it because he didn’t come to the birth?” I asked, wanting to understand her perspective.
“Yes, even though I told him how important it was for me. Instead, he wanted his sister, who hates me and always belittles me, to be there. I didn’t want her there in such a vulnerable moment, but she came anyway,” Emily said, her voice shaking with emotion.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
This information changed everything. “I understand you, but maybe you could forgive him? I can suggest a family therapy session. After all, he wasn’t just sitting at home; he was helping his mother, who had an accident.”
Emily looked at me sharply. “Is that what he told you? He was helping his ex-girlfriend move because she was relocating.”
Oh my God, what a nightmare, I thought. This was why I decided to talk to Emily; I knew Colin wasn’t telling me everything. “Colin also complained that your friend was there,” I said, trying to remain neutral.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Toby, yes. We’ve been friends since third grade, and there’s never been anything romantic between us, but I trust him. That’s why I asked him to take me. Besides, he lives closer than Colin’s sister,” Emily explained.
“Have you tried talking to Colin about this?” I asked, feeling the tension in the room.
“I tried, but he doesn’t listen. He says he’s apologized a hundred times for not being at the birth. But he did it just to hear me say I’m not angry. I can’t trust my child to someone who doesn’t care about me. How can I know he cares about our son?” Emily said, tears welling up in her eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Have you considered leaving?” I asked, sensing her desperation.
“I have, but I don’t have a job or money. I’m financially dependent on Colin,” Emily admitted, looking down.
“Did you know his sister was on FaceTime with Colin the whole time you were in labor?” I asked, feeling the need to share this piece of information.
“What? No, that’s horrible. I didn’t even notice her,” Emily said, her face paling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Emily, if you really want to leave him, I can help you,” I said, offering her a lifeline.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening with hope.
“Yes, you can’t raise a child in such conditions,” I said firmly.
Half an hour later, Emily and her son’s belongings were in my car. I was glad I had come to see her and heard her side. I hoped I could help them find a better path.
The drive back to my office was quiet, but I felt a sense of purpose. This was why I became a psychologist, to help people like Emily find the strength to change their lives.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: One evening, I agreed to look after my best friend’s son, and that night changed my life forever. What I discovered made me see my surroundings in a completely different light. How can I now cope with the revelations that have shattered my trust in those closest to me? Read the full story here.
My Mother-in-Law Tried to Evict Me from My Own Home While My Husband Was out of Town – Her Plan Backfired Spectacularly
I came home from a quick grocery run to find my house locked and a chilling note from my mother-in-law taped to the door. What she thought would be a quiet takeover turned into a messy showdown she never saw coming.
I came home from the store, juggling two bags in one hand, and reached for my keys. When I tried to unlock the front door, nothing happened. I pulled the key out, checked it, and tried again. Still nothing. My stomach dropped.
A woman holding a door handle | Source: Pexels
This couldn’t be happening.
My name’s Rachel, I’m 32, married, and the mother of a sweet two-year-old named Ellie. When my husband, Matt, left for a two-week work trip overseas, I was honestly looking forward to the quiet. I’d planned cozy mornings with cartoons, late breakfasts, and lazy afternoons with my daughter. Nothing fancy—just calm.
A calm woman drinking coffee | Source: Pexels
Instead, the morning after Matt left, Linda, his mother, showed up without warning. She had a rolling suitcase in one hand, a large purse over her shoulder, and a look on her face like she was doing me the biggest favor in the world.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she said brightly, stepping inside before I could say a word. “Thought I’d come help while Matt’s gone. Just a few days.”
A smiling elderly woman | Source: Pexels
“Oh. Uh… thanks,” I mumbled, still half-asleep, Ellie on my hip. “That’s… thoughtful.”
She smiled wide. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your way.”
That was a lie.
The first day wasn’t so bad. She folded laundry, vacuumed the hallway, even made lunch. I could deal with that. But by the second day, the criticism started creeping in.
A mature woman cooking | Source: Pexels
“You really shouldn’t let her snack so much,” she said, watching Ellie chew on apple slices. “All that sugar affects their moods.”
“It’s fruit,” I said. “And she’s fine.”
Linda shook her head. “You’re too soft with her.”
That afternoon, she insisted on giving Ellie a bath. She scolded me for the water being “too warm” and said, “You know, kids don’t need bubbles every time.”
An angry mature woman | Source: Freepik
By day three, she was taking over meals. I walked into the kitchen and found her elbow-deep in my spice cabinet. That night, I called Matt.
“She’s driving me nuts,” I whispered from the bathroom, trying not to wake Ellie.
“She means well,” he said. “Just… try to hang in there until I’m back. Don’t fight her.”
“She’s rearranging the house,” I said. “She even swapped Ellie’s clothes. Jeans instead of leggings because she thinks leggings are lazy.”
An annoyed woman talking on her phone | Source: Freepik
Matt was quiet for a second. “She’s just… old-school.”
“She’s crossing lines.”
“I know,” he said. “Just… keep the peace.”
By the fifth day, she wasn’t even pretending to be helpful anymore.
She moved the living room furniture around because “the flow was all wrong.” She told me Ellie needed more “discipline” and less cuddling. She even said I should be getting up earlier because “mothers shouldn’t sleep past 6 a.m.”
A bossy elderly woman | Source: Freepik
I told her this was my home. She just smiled and said, “You’ll thank me when things are finally in order.”
That morning, I left for a quick trip to the store. Just milk and diapers—fifteen minutes, tops.
When I came back, I couldn’t get in. My key didn’t work. I stared at the door, trying to understand what had changed. Then I saw the note.
“I’m taking control until you get the help you clearly need.”
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
I knocked. No answer. I pounded. Still nothing. I called her phone. She picked up on the third ring.
“Linda. What is going on?”
“Oh, Rachel. I had to do it,” she said, her voice calm like we were discussing the weather. “You’re overwhelmed. You need a break.”
“You locked me out of my own house!”
An elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“I’m inside with Ellie. She’s fine. Better than fine.”
I stood on my front porch, still gripping the note like it might catch fire in my hand. The words felt unreal, like some twisted joke.
She had actually written that. In pen. On paper. And taped it to the door like she was running a daycare, not hijacking someone’s life.
An elderly woman writing | Source: Pexels
I tried the key again, hard this time, jamming it in and twisting. Nothing. My eyes darted to the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ellie. Was she crying? Was she okay? The idea of her in there, alone with Linda, made my stomach turn.
I knocked. Then pounded. I yelled. “Linda! Open the door! This isn’t okay!”
No response. The porch light flicked on. That was it.
A woman shouting | Source: Pexels
I called 911. My voice shook as I explained what happened. “My mother-in-law locked me out. My baby’s inside. I live here. I have proof.”
Two officers showed up ten minutes later. I rushed to meet them.
“She changed the locks,” I told them. “I don’t even know how long ago. She won’t answer the door.”
They walked up and knocked. Linda opened it with a calm smile, like she was offering cookies.
A smiling elderly woman looking into the camera | Source: Pexels
“I’m the homeowner’s mother,” she said sweetly. “She’s very overwhelmed. I stepped in to help.”
“She doesn’t live here,” I said, stepping forward. “She has no right.”
The officers exchanged looks.
“It’s a family matter,” one of them said. “She’s claiming concern for the child’s safety. We can’t force her to hand over the child unless there’s evidence of abuse or danger.”
Police officers on the job | Source: Pexels
“What about locking a mother out of her own house?” I snapped.
“We recommend you speak to an attorney,” the other said quietly. “You’ll need proof of ownership.”
I felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs. They left. And I was alone again. I called my sister, Laura, who lived 15 minutes away.
“She locked you out?” Laura gasped. “She actually changed the locks?”
A shocked surprised woman | Source: Freepik
“I need help,” I said, already walking to my car. “I’m coming over.”
Once there, I found the folder I kept in her safe—copies of our house deed, mortgage statements, and the prenuptial agreement. Everything had my name on it. Everything.
Then I called our family lawyer, Greg. He had drafted our prenup when Matt and I got married and later helped with the house paperwork. He picked up right away.
“What happened?” he asked.
A lawyer talking on his phone | Source: Pexels
I explained everything.
He didn’t hesitate. “That’s unlawful eviction. Doesn’t matter if she’s family. She has no legal standing. I’ll call her now.”
Five minutes later, Linda called me, her voice sharp now, the fake sugar gone.
“You’re involving lawyers?”
“You broke the law,” I said flatly. “You locked me out of my home. My baby is inside.”
A frowning woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“You’re unstable,” she snapped. “You overreact. You’re always emotional.”
I hung up.
Back at Laura’s, I logged into the home security app. I’d almost forgotten we had audio set up on the porch cam. I scrolled through the day’s footage until I hit the moment Linda was on the phone earlier that afternoon.
A woman working on her laptop | Source: Pexels
She stood by the door, laughing into the phone. Then I heard her say, loud and clear, “By tonight, she’ll be out. I’ll finally get rid of that girl. She’s ruining everything.”
I stared at the screen, stunned. I clipped the video and sent it to Matt. No explanation. Just the file. He called me five minutes later, his voice low but furious.
“She said that?” he asked.
A frowning man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels
“You heard it.”
“I’m calling her now.”
Linda was gone by nightfall.
Matt called her from overseas, his voice steady and cold. “You went too far, Mom. Pack your things. Leave tonight.”
She argued—defensive at first, then emotional—but he didn’t budge. “You locked Rachel out of her own house. You kept Ellie from her mother. That’s not love. That’s control.”
A shocked elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
By the time I returned home, the door was unlocked and the lights were off. The silence felt heavy, but the moment Ellie saw me, she let out a squeal and ran into my arms.
I held her so tightly, her little fingers clutching my sweater, and I finally let myself cry. Quietly. The kind of cry that only comes after days of holding it all in.
A woman hugging her young daughter | Source: Pexels
When Matt got home three days later, he didn’t even take off his coat before pulling me into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For not listening. For not protecting you sooner.”
We sat at the kitchen table that night—tired but united. We called Greg again the next morning.
A couple in their kitchen | Source: Pexels
Linda’s name was scrubbed from all documents: emergency contacts, temporary access codes, even old backups on the smart home system. We changed the locks, updated the alarm codes, and added a new camera to the back entry.
Matt looked at me seriously and said, “We’re drawing a line, Rach. She doesn’t get to cross it again.”
A couple talking | Source: Pexels
What followed were the kind of conversations couples usually avoid—messy ones. About family, loyalty, fear of confrontation. But they brought us closer. For the first time, Matt saw what I’d been carrying for years—the constant pressure to keep the peace while sacrificing my own comfort.
It wasn’t just about removing Linda from the house. It was about reclaiming control, safety, and respect inside it.
A happy couple hugging their daughter | Source: Pexels
And finally, it felt like home again.
Leave a Reply