When my mother-in-law, Gloria, moved in to help care for Lily, I was relieved but hesitant. I insisted on controlling Lily’s upbringing, but Gloria had her own ways. One evening, I overheard her teaching Lily a new brushing method—something small, yet it felt like an intrusion.
I started competing with Gloria for Lily’s attention, building castles, buying extravagant dolls, and planning special activities. But Lily always gravitated toward Gloria’s adventures—forest hikes, rain boots, and magical stories. The more I tried, the more distant Lily seemed.
One night, after another argument with Gloria, we realized Lily was missing. Panic set in as we frantically searched for her. Eventually, we remembered a cabin in the woods, a place Lily had loved. We found her there, asleep, her face peaceful.
Lily’s simple joy at seeing us together hit me hard. Our rivalry had been meaningless. From that moment, we stopped competing and became the united family Lily needed. Love, after all, wasn’t a tug-of-war; it was something we shared.
