**Diary Entry 14th May, 2024**
*”Ill come in whenever I pleaseI have the keys,”* my mother-in-law announced before barging into our bedroom at five in the morning.
The screech of the lock made me freeze, a damp cloth still clutched in my hand. Id been scrubbing a sticky jam stain left by Irene Borisovnaher latest giftand I recognised that sound instantly.
Paul was still asleep. Sunday, half-eight in the morning.
The door swung open, and there she stood. In one hand, a string bag filled with something green; in the other, the lead of her tiny, trembling terrier.
*”Laura, dear, still asleep?”* she chirped, stepping over the threshold. *”Brought you some fresh dill from my garden.”*
I straightened, my spine stiffening.
*”Good morning, Irene. We* are *sleeping. Or rather, Paul is.”*
She ignored me and floated toward the kitchen. The dog gave a perfunctory yap and trotted after her.
*”I was quiet as a mouse. No need to fuss. I was at the market and thought Id drop by. Heaven knows what rubbish youd buy otherwise.”*
I followed, watching my one peaceful morning of the week crumble before my eyes.
*”We couldve bought our own. Or you couldve called. Wed have come down.”*
Irene turned, her gaze sharp and assessing. It slid over my old T-shirt, bare feet, and tangled hair.
*”Laura, dont be silly. Why should you come down? I have keys.”*
She said it like she was bestowing some divine favouras if those keys werent to *my* flat, but to paradise itself.
That evening, I finally worked up the courage. Paul was sprawled on the sofa, half-watching some series, idly scratching his stomach.
*”Paul, we need to talk about your mum.”*
He sighed without looking up. *”Again? She just brought dill.”*
*”She let herself into our flat at half-eight on a Sunday morning without ringing. Thats not normal.”*
*”Whats the big deal? Shes family.”*
I sat beside him, snatched the remote, and silenced the TV. The sudden quiet made my next words louder.
*”Paul, this is our home. I want to walk around naked if I please. I dont want to wake up to the sound of a key in the lock.”*
He rolled his eyes. *”Oh, come off it. She cares, thats all.”*
*”Then she can leave her concern on the doorstep. Or at least call before entering. Lets ask for the keys back.”*
Paul recoiled like Id scalded him.
*”Are you mad? Take Mums keys? Thats an insult! She sacrificed everything for me, and you want me to shut her out?”*
*”Shes shutting* us *out!”* I snapped.
He stared at me like Id suggested robbing a bank. Fear and bewilderment swam in his eyes. To him, his mother with keys was as natural as the sun rising in the east.
A week later, I woke to light flooding the bedroom.
Five in the morning.
Irene stood in the doorway, a raincoat thrown over her nightdress, squinting against the glare. In her hand was Pauls phone.
*”Paul, dear, you forgot this,”* she whispered conspiratorially. *”Saw you drive off, and there it was. Cant have you at work without a phone, can we?”*
I sat up, pulling the duvet to my chin. My heart hammered in my throat. Paul muttered something and rolled over.
Without sparing me a glance, she placed the phone on his bedside table, then surveyed the room with a critical eye.
*”My, its dusty in here, Laura. You really ought to wipe it down.”*
And with that, she left. The front door clicked shut.
I sat under the harsh light, staring at my sleeping husband. He hadnt even stirred. He didnt see what had just happenedhow the line had been crossed, erased, trampled into the dirt.
When he finally woke and I calmly recounted the visit, he waved me off.
*”Laura, she meant well. She was worried.”*
*”Paul, she walked into our bedroom. At five in the morning.”*
*”So? She wasnt naked. Shes family.”*
That afternoon, I called her myself. My hands shook, but my resolve didnt.
*”Irene, I wanted to talk about this morning.”*
*”Yes, dear?”* Not a hint of remorse.
*”Please dont come over unannounced. Especially not that early. Especially not to our bedroom.”*
Silence. Then, icy and indignant:
*”I dont understand your issue, girl. I raised my son. I helped pay for this flat. Remember this: Ill come when I pleaseI have the keys.”*
The line went dead.
Paul had heard everything. He looked away.
*”Well? Nothing to say?”*
He shrugged, studying the wallpaper. *”You provoked her. Of course she reacted like that.”*
*”Provoked her? By asking for basic privacy?”*
*”You couldve been softer about it,”* he finally met my eyesno support, just weariness. *”Youre never happy. Mum tries, and you”*
I didnt wait for the rest. I walked out, shutting the door firmly behind me.
That night, a wall went up between us. He didnt apologise, didnt talk. Just slept on the sofa, sighing loudly.
A week passed without Irene. But her presence lingeredin Pauls tight lips when I suggested outings, in his muttered *”Just Mum”* during long phone calls.
I felt like a stranger in my own home.
Then, on Wednesday, I fell illthroat raw, head splitting. I took the day off, desperate for a hot bath to ease the ache.
I was nearly dozing when I heard itthe scrape of a key in the lock.
I froze. Paul wasnt due home for hours.
The door opened. A familiar patter of paws.
*”Now then, lets see how Lauras keeping house,”* Irene sang. *”Probably dusty as ever.”*
I sat motionless, the water turning cold. She moved through the flat, opening the fridge, tutting.
*”Knew it. Barely a scrap. Poor Paul must be starving.”*
She was metres away, separated only by a flimsy door. I imagined her flinging it open, and terror spiked through me.
This was my home, my fortress. And an invader had walked right in while I was defenceless.
Once she moved to the kitchen, I slipped out, wrapped myself in a robe, and stepped into the hall.
She was examining my bookshelf.
*”Oh, Laura! Youre home?”* No trace of guilt. *”Brought you some chicken broth. Paul said you were poorly.”*
She gestured to a jar on the coffee table.
*”Thanks, but you shouldnt have,”* I rasped. *”I asked you to call.”*
*”Dont be silly! I wanted to help. Who else will look after you? Pauls at work, and here you are, all alone.”*
She reached for my forehead. I recoiled.
*”Dont.”*
That evening, when Paul returned, I laid it all outthe fear, the humiliation, the mocking jar of broth.
He listened in silence. Then:
*”Laura, I dont get it. Mum brought you soup. She cared. You always see the worst. Maybe the problem isnt herits you.”*
I lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling while he snored beside me. The man who shouldve been my shield had made his choice.
So I made mine.
The next morning, as soon as Paul left, I picked up my phone. My hands were steady. I searched: *”Emergency locksmith. 24/7.”* And pressed *call*.
The locksmith arrived within the houra burly man with tired eyes. He worked swiftly, the drills whirring music to my ears. Every screech was a shout of freedom.
When he finished, he handed me two shiny new keys.
*”There you go, love. Jobs done.”*
I took them. They felt solid. *Real.* Keys to my fortress. I paid, and the door clicked shut behind hima new, firm sound. I turned the lock. Then again.
It worked perfectly. For the first time in months, I felt safe.
All day, I waited for Paul like a soldier bracing for battle. I cooked, cleaned, rehearsed my speech.
He came home exhausted, dropping his briefcase on a chair.
*”Hi.”*
*”Hi.”* I held out a key. *”This is yours. I changed the locks.”*
He stared. *”You what? Why?”*
*”Because I decided to. No one walks into our home uninvited. No one.”*
His face darkened.
*”Youyou did this behind my back? Youve locked my mother out?”*
*”Ive protected our family. Our home.”*
*”Youve torn it apart!”* he shouted. *”What do I even tell her?”*
*”The truth. That her sons a grown man with his own life.”*
We yelled, neither backing down. I laid it all barethe fear, the betrayal. He didnt hear. He ranted about duty, respect, my ingratitude.
Thena sound.
The scrape of a key. A confused, angry jiggling. Then pounding.
*”Paul! Laura! Open up! Whats wrong with the door?”*
Paul froze. Looked at me, then the door, where his mother was hammering furiously. Trapped.
The banging grew louder.
*”I know youre in there! Open this instant! Laura, is this your doing?!”*
Paul exhaled and opened the door. Irene stormed in, wild-eyed, face twisted with rage.
*”What have you done?!”* she shrieked, jabbing a finger at me. *”Youve barred me from my own sons home!”*
*”Mum,”* Paul said quietly.
She faltered. *”What Mum? Cant you see what shes done?”*
*”I can,”* he said, steel in his voice. *”I can see my wife had to do this because no one listened. Least of all me.”*
He turned to her.
*”This is our home. Mine and Lauras. And you* will *ask before entering. Understood?”*
Irene gaped. *”Paul”*
*”No Paul. Im a grown man. I decide who comes into my home. Now please leave.”*
She stumbled back, threw me a venomous glare, and left.
Paul shut the door. Turned to me. His eyes shone.
*”Im sorry,”* he whispered. *”I was blind.”*
He pulled me into his arms. And I knewId won. I hadnt just changed a lock. Id reclaimed my husband. Our family.
Our life.
**Lesson learned:** Boundaries arent selfish. Theyre the walls that keep love standing.
