**Ready to Run Away with My Son and the Bare Necessities from This Village**
Ive already packed the essentials in my mindjust enough to flee with my son from my husband and his parents, from this tiny village lost in the countryside. No, I wont dedicate my life to their goats, cows, and endless vegetable patches. Just because I married Oliver doesnt mean I signed up to be a free labourer on their farm. But I refuse. This isnt the life I want, and I wont let my son grow up in this backwater, where the only entertainment is arguing over how many litres of milk Daisy the cow gave.
When I first arrived after the wedding, it didnt seem so bad. Oliver was attentive, his parents, Margaret and her husband, seemed kind. The village even had its charmgreen fields, fresh air, peace. I thought I could adjust. But reality soon showed its true face. A week after moving in, Margaret handed me a bucket and ordered me to milk the goats. Youre one of us now, Emilytime to pull your weight! she said with a smile that still makes me shudder. Me, a city girl whod never lifted anything heavier than a laptop, had to learn to milk before sundown. That was my first warning.
Oliver, as it turned out, had no intention of defending me. Mums righteveryone works here, he muttered when I protested. And so began my new routine: up at five, feeding animals, weeding the garden, cleaning, cooking for everyone. I felt more like a maid than a wife. If I asked for a days rest, Margaret would roll her eyes and start lecturing: In my day, women worked dawn to dusk without complaint! Oliver stayed silent, as if it were none of his business.
My son, just three years old, is my only light. Looking at him, I know I cant let him grow up here, where his future is either slaving on the farm or moving to London and forever feeling like an outsider. I want him in a proper nursery, to study, to travel, to see the world. Here? There isnt even decent internet for cartoons. When I mentioned enrolling him in an art class in the nearest town, Margaret scoffed: Whats the point? Better he learns to milkthats useful!
I tried talking to Oliver. I told him I felt suffocated, that this wasnt what Id dreamed of. He just shrugged: Everyone lives like this, Emily. What more do you want? Then I found out Margaret plans to expand the barn and buy another cow. Of course, the work would fall to me. That was the final straw.
Ive been saving money secretlynot much, but enough for two bus tickets to the city. A friend in Manchester promised to help with a place and a job. I picture my son and me boarding that bus, leaving behind this village, the goats, the cows, and Margarets lectures. I dream of a little flat where its just us, where I can work and my son can have real opportunities. I want to feel human again, not just a workhorse.
Of course, Im afraid. What will life in the city be like? Will I find work? Will the money last? But one things certain: I cant stay. Every time I see my son playing in the yard, I think he deserves better. So do I. I wont let him watch his mother bend under this weight, losing herself to please others.
Margaret said the other day that Im too city and will never belong. You know what? Shes right. I dont want to belong. I want to be myselfEmily, who once dreamed of a career, of travels, of a happy family. And Ill do whatever it takes to reclaim that life. Even if it means grabbing a bag and running away with my son to somewhere no one forces me to milk cows.
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is walk awayeven if the path ahead is uncertain.
