I’m Rosa, 66, finally retiring after 48 years of hard work. I dreamed of a quiet life—gardening, pottery, no more overtime. But then there’s my daughter, Maya, 29. She’s a single mom, self-proclaimed beauty influencer, and broke. Her vlog pays nothing, and her toddler—my grandson—is mostly my responsibility.

Maya had him during a “poly-curious renaissance,” as she calls it. Translation: we don’t know who the father is. She swore she’d change after giving birth. She didn’t. I covered rent, groceries, formula, even her Wi-Fi—for TikTok, of course. Until last month, when I finally said, “I’m done. I’m retiring.”

She called it emotional abandonment. Then came the shock. I got a call from a confused man—she had left her baby with him. Might be the father, might not. She went off to a perfume event in another city. He found my number in a diaper bag. I drove two hours to pick up my grandson. Maya was posting rooftop selfies while I held a scared child.

She texted: “You pushed me to this. I’m doing it for him.” I blocked her—for now. I needed to breathe. Now I’m sitting here with a sleeping toddler and one question: Am I heartless for stepping back and making her grow up, or was I foolish to think she ever would?