**Diary Entry 12th September**
For twenty years, I endured my mother-in-laws jabs, but her last words chilled me to the bone.
“You shouldnt have shouted at her like that, Sophie,” James murmured, setting his teacup down with a guilty glance.
“Too old, is she?” Sophie spun away from the window, her voice sharp. “When she spent two decades making my life miserable, was she young then?”
“Shes ill now”
“Ill when it suits her!” Sophie scoffed. “But when shes insulting Mrs. Thompson next door or winding me up, suddenly shes fit as a fiddle.”
James sipped his tea in silence. He was exhausted by the endless battles between his wife and mother. Same rows, day after dayhis mothers remarks, Sophies temper, slamming doors, bitter words.
“What did she say this time?” he asked, though he knew hed regret it.
Sophie shut her eyes as if mustering strength. “That Im a poor excuse for a wife. That my stews tasteless, the house is filthy, the children spoiled. Then she added how I ought to learn from your brothers Charlottenow *theres* a woman who can cook and clean.”
“Mum just likes things her way.”
“Her way!” Sophies voice cracked. “And what about *my* way? Coming home from work to scrub, cook, and still hear how worthless I am?”
James reached for her, but she stepped back.
“Know what she saved for last?” Sophie swiped her sleeve across her eyes. “That when youre gone, Ill *still* be alone. Because no one would want someone like me.”
James froze.
“She didnt”
“Word for word. Then she slammed the door so hard the plaster shook.”
Footsteps padded down the hall. Ten-year-old Emily peeked in. “Mum is Gran gone? She didnt say goodbye.”
“Home now, love.” Sophie smoothed Emilys hair.
“Why do you always argue? It scares me.”
Sophie knelt, meeting her daughters gaze. “Grown-ups dont always agree, sweetheart. But we still love each other.”
“Gran doesnt love you,” Emily blurted. “Shes always cross. Its not fair.”
Sophie hugged her tight, tears returning. “Go finish your homework. Dad and I need to talk.”
Once Emily left, James sat beside her. “Ill speak to Mum. Make her understand”
“Whats left to say?” Sophie rubbed her reddened handshands that scrubbed, laundered, worked eight-hour shifts at the shop. All while her mother-in-law called her inadequate.
“Remember how we met?” she asked suddenly.
James blinked. “At the community dance. You wore blue.”
“*Cornflower* blue.” A sad smile flickered. “I thought you the handsomest man alive. Your mother hated me from the start.”
“She worried Id rush into marriage”
“Stop excusing her!” Sophies voice flared. “She despised me for my parents tiny flat, for Dad being a mechanic, not some high-up engineer like yours.”
“That was decades ago”
“Was it? Remember our wedding? Her face like a sour lemon. And moving in? First thing she said: *Her house, her rules.*”
Sophie stood, filling the kettle. “Twenty years, James. Twenty years cooking *her* way, cleaning *her* way, raising the kids by *her* rules. And what do I get?”
“Mum appreciates”
“Tolerates,” Sophie corrected bitterly.
The kettle whistled. She poured the tea, slumping back into her chair.
“You know what I dream of?” she whispered. “Waking without dreading her opinion on breakfast. Coming home without fearing shell spot dust. Buying the kids sweets without hearing Ill rot their teeth.”
“Soph”
“Let me finish. I dream of *our* home. No criticising every step. No shouting for the children to hear.”
James clasped her hand. “But shes alone. Wholl care for her?”
“And wholl care for *me*?” Sophies voice broke. “When I had pneumonia, she never brought me teajust complained her soup wasnt right. When I broke my wrist, when I had surgeryalways my fault for failing *her* standards.”
A knock interrupted. Their neighbour, Mrs. Wilkins, bustled in.
“Heard your Margaret stormed home upset,” she said, declining tea. “Dont take it to heart, dear. Old age souring her temper.”
Sophie repeated the cruel words. Mrs. Wilkins tutted.
“Spoke in anger, thats all. She knows shed be lost without you.”
“Does she?” Sophies laugh was hollow.
“Oh, she brags about you! Says what a fine mum you are, how tidy you keep thingsjust too proud to admit it to your face.”
“Then why the constant digs?”
Mrs. Wilkins sighed. “Margarets ruled this family since her husband died. Then you cameyoung, lovely, stealing her sons heart. She couldnt bear not being first anymore.”
Sophie swallowed. There was truth there, but it didnt ease the ache.
“So I endure forever?”
“Try kindness. No shouting. Tell her you *want* to be a good daughter-in-law.”
“I *have*. Nothing changes.”
Mrs. Wilkins stood to leave. “Just rememberbreaking a familys easy. Mending it? Thats the hard bit.”
After she left, silence lingered. Dusk settled; dogs barked in the distance.
“James what if we rented a place?” Sophie ventured.
“Moneys tight.”
“Ill take weekends at the corner shop. Theyre hiring.”
“And Mum?”
“She stays here. *Her* house. We find somewhere smallours.”
James hesitated. “Maybe for a while.”
“A *while*?” Sophie faced him. “I *cant* anymore, James. Forty years old, and I still feel like a scolded child.”
“Alright,” he murmured. “Well look.”
Sophie hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. For the first time in years, she dared hope for a life of her own.
“What if she objects?”
“She objects to everything. But this is *our* choice.”
The next evening, Sophie found Margaret at the stove, stubbornly avoiding her gaze.
“Evening,” Sophie said.
“Had to cook. Children were starving,” Margaret muttered.
Sophie bit back a retort. Their decision was made.
“Thank you. Ill help once Ive changed.”
Margaret stiffened, expecting a fight. “Dont need help.”
“Suit yourself.”
At dinner, the air was thick. The children sensed it but didnt understand.
“Mum why are you sad?” Emily asked.
“Just tired, love.”
“Gran was nice today,” piped up little Thomas. “Gave me a sweet.”
“Thats lovely.”
Afterward, Margaret lingered, rearranging spotless dishes.
“Margaret,” Sophie began. “James and I need to talk.”
“About?”
“Us moving out. Weve found a flat nearby.”
Margaret paled. “Because of yesterday?”
“Not just that,” Sophie said gently. “We need space.”
“Youll take the children?”
“Of course.”
Margaret sank into a chair. “So I *will* be alone.”
The raw despair in her voice tugged at Sophies heartbut not enough to stay.
“You wont be. Well visit. But we need to live separately.”
“My fault,” Margaret whispered. “I drove you away.”
“No ones driving anyone,” James said. “Were trying something new.”
“What if it fails?”
“Well cross that bridge,” Sophie said, though she knew thered be no return.
Margaret stood by the window. “Youll still end up alone,” she repeated, but the venom was gonejust exhaustion remained.
“Maybe,” Sophie agreed. “But itll be *my* choice.”
**Lesson learned:** Family isnt a cage. Sometimes love means knowing when to walk awayfor everyones sake.
