**Diary Entry**
Fate has a funny way of twisting life in directions no one could have imagined.
Emily and James have been married for nearly ten years. They love each other deeply and are raising two sons together. Emily studied education and used to teach history at a local school, but after their youngest, Alfie, was born with health complications, she had to leave her job to care for him full-time.
“Alfie and I have a hospital appointment today,” Emily told James over breakfast as he prepared for work. “Its at elevencould you give us a lift?”
“Of course,” James replied. “Ill pop into the office for the morning meeting, then head to the branch. Ill call when Im on my way.”
“You could always take the bus with Alfie, you know. Its not like youre royalty,” muttered his mother, Margaret, pursing her lips disapprovingly.
Emily said nothing. James just nodded, grabbed the car keys, and left. They lived in Margarets housea situation that would have been fine if not for her domineering nature. The daughter of a colonel, she was used to being in charge, and everyone knew crossing her came at a cost. Emily learned that the hard way when Margaret made it abundantly clear who ruled the roost.
“In this house, *I* am the one who decides,” she had snapped once, catching Emily about to make lunch. “I wont tolerate another woman taking over my kitchen. Do I make myself clear? I wont repeat it.”
Emily understood. She never argued, especially since Margaret had been widowed young and clung fiercely to her son, insisting they all live together.
Youd think shed be happyher son married, grandchildren born, a daughter-in-law who never caused trouble. But those military genes ran strong, and all her affection went to James and the boys. Emily was barely acknowledged.
“Dont touch anything you cant even do the laundry properly. Youre hopeless in the kitchen, and you dont take proper care of my son or grandsons,” Margaret would say, though Emily scrubbed every inch of the house meticulously.
Nothing ever pleased her, especially after Alfie was born and Emily had to quit work. Many nights, Emily cried in secret. Sometimes, she even complained to James.
“James, I respect your mum, but wouldnt it be better if we lived separately?” shed say carefully, trying not to sound ungrateful.
“What more do you want? The house is spotless, meals are cooked, laundrys doneall thanks to Mum. You dont even workyou should be handling this yourself instead of moaning like an old woman,” hed retort.
“James, youve no idea how much I *want* to do those thingscare for our boys, cook, cleanbut Margaret”
“We cant afford our own place right now,” hed cut in sharply. “We cant. And need I remind you, *Im* the one supporting this family?”
So Emily accepted her lot in life.
“Em, meet me outside with Alfie,” James called later when she was ready.
“Margaret, could we stop at the shops after the hospital? We need a few things,” Emily asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely not. *Ill* get what we need. You wouldnt know quality if it hit you,” Margaret huffed, turning away.
*Dear God, will I ever please her?* Emily thought. *Shes never happy, never trusts me. How exhausting.* And James refused to see it, always siding with his beloved mother.
After the appointment, Emily and Alfie strolled through the park, swung on the playground, and shared an ice cream under the crisp autumn sun. Alfie was sixtoo unwell for nursery, but the doctor had reassured her.
“Everythings looking good. Alfie will start mainstream school next yearbright little lad, and his condition isnt worsening. Credit to youyour cares made all the difference. Well done.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That means the world.”
They returned home in good spirits, though Emily knew Margaret wouldnt care. The last word would always be hersand it would sting. But Emily had long stopped expecting praise.
“How was it, Alfie?” Margaret asked.
“Brilliant, Nana! The doctor said Im clever, and Mummy takes good care of me!”
“Of course he praised *her*. As if *I* hadnt”
Margarets sixtieth birthday loomed in March, and Emily and James agonised over giftsnothing ever satisfied her.
“Em, what if we take Mum out for dinner? Give her a break from cooking,” James suggested.
“Dinner out? I dont know shell find fault either way,” Emily sighed.
“Its settled, then. But lets keep it quiettell her the night before.”
Emily liked the idea, but she knew Margarets sour mood would ruin it. She couldnt imagine anything ever pleasing that woman.
“Mum, Em and I thought wed celebrate your birthday at a restaurant,” James announced the day before.
Margaret clearly wanted to protest, but James pressed, “Mum, you only turn sixty once.”
Miraculously, she agreedno complaints. A small victory.
At the restaurant, the children buzzed with excitement, and even Emily and James relaxed in their smart clothes. But Margaret sat stiffly, radiating disapproval.
“James, well be penniless at this rate. Youre throwing money away for *me*? You couldve hosted at homecheaper. And *you*, Emilyif you were a proper wife, youd have talked sense into him.”
Emily stayed silent, refusing to spoil the evening. At a nearby table, an older gentleman kept glancing their way. James grew agitated.
“Whys he staring? Dont look at him,” he muttered, kicking Emily under the table.
“I dont even know who you mean”
“Dont play dumb.”
James was fumingcheeks flushed, veins bulginguntil the stranger stood and approached Margaret.
“May I have this dance?”
Everyone gaped as Margaret took his hand, suddenly girlish. They glided across the floor, chatting and laughing like old friends.
“This is Williamwe were at school together,” Margaret gushed later. “Also widowed. I didnt even recognise him! What a birthday gift.”
That night, Margaret didnt come home.
The next afternoon, the doorbell rang. Margaret stood there, beamingWilliam beside her.
“Hello, dears! Ive just come for my things. William and Iwell, weve decided” She glanced back at him, and he nodded eagerly.
Packing swiftly, she kissed the boys goodbye and left with William. They married soon after.
Emily was overjoyed.
“Finally, *Im* the one running this housecooking, cleaning, *everything*.”
“Love, I had no idea you were such a brilliant cook!” James marvelled. “The house has never looked better. Youre a marvel.”
“Told you I could manage,” Emily smiled.
Margaret visited occasionally, showering Emily with praise, calling her “darling” and “a perfect homemaker.” James adored his wife. And Margaret, gazing adoringly at William, often sighed,
“I always said a home needs *one* mistress. Youre wonderful, Emily. My sons so lucky.”
Emily and James would exchange a glanceand smile.
