My son married a woman with two kids

My son married a woman with two kids. I loved them from day one.
They called me Grandma.
One day, my DIL said, ‘Stop trying—they’re not real grandchildren.’
When she had a baby with my son, she told me, ‘Now come see your real grandchild.’
I refused. She cut me off.
A year later, her 14-year-old son found me. Turns out…

…he’s been sneaking out to visit me without telling his mom.

I stare at him on my front porch, lanky and nervous, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. His eyes flicker with guilt, but there’s a flicker of hope too—like he’s clinging to something that still feels good and right in his world.

“Grandma,” he says softly, like he’s testing the word again. “I—I missed you.”

I step outside, tears stinging my eyes before I can even process the words. “Zach,” I breathe. “Oh honey, you don’t have to sneak around. You’re always welcome here.”

His shoulders relax, just a little. He glances over his shoulder like someone might be watching, then walks into my arms, letting me hug him tight. For a moment, I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about what his mother said. All I care about is this boy, who still thinks of me as family.

We sit on the porch swing. The autumn air is crisp and smells of burning leaves. Zach kicks his feet nervously. “Mom doesn’t know I’m here. She’d flip.”

I sigh. “I figured. Is everything okay at home?”

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