“Your mother doesnt live here anymore,” said James, standing in the doorway as Emily clutched the handle of her suitcase. A cold draft swept through the hall, the front door wide open, and the bedroom where her mum had always slept was still lit.
“What do you mean, she doesnt live here?” Emilys voice trembled. “I was only gone three days for the conference. Where is she?”
James shrugged, stepping aside to let her in. His expression was unreadable, almost indifferent.
“I took her to Aunt Margarets. She agreed to look after your mum for a while.”
“A while?” Emily kicked off her heels, her hands shakingexhaustion, shock, anger all boiling inside her. She strode to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and took a long sip. “What kind of *while*? And why the hell did you decide this without me?”
“Because I couldnt take it anymore,” James said, locking eyes with her. “Three years, Emily. Three bloody years of this. Ive had enough.”
She dropped her bag on the table, knuckles white. The fridge hummed in the silence.
“So you threw my mum out while I was away?” she said, forcing calm into her voice.
“I didnt throw her out. I moved her. Respectfully, with all her things.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “And you know it was the right call. Shes your mother, but our marriage matters more.”
Emily shook her head. How quickly everything could change. Shed left for Birmingham convinced life would be the same when she returned. Now it was all different.
“I need to talk to her,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“Its nearly eleven. Call tomorrow.”
“Im going to Aunt Margarets now.”
“No, youre not.” His voice was firm. “Youre exhausted. Well talk in the morning.”
She dialled her mothers numberstraight to voicemail. Tried Aunt Margaretsno answer. James watched, silent.
“What did you say to her?” Emily slammed the phone down.
“The truth. That we cant live like this anymore. That our marriage is falling apart. That its her or me.”
“You gave her an ultimatum?”
“Didnt I have to?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Emily, weve talked about this a hundred times. I cant do it anymore. I want *us* back. Just you and me. No more rows, no more guilt.”
She sank into a chair, pressing her palms to her eyes. Yes, theyd talked. But she never thought hed actually do it. Shed assumed things would just work themselves out.
“How did she take it?” she whispered.
“Better than I expected. Said she saw it coming. Packed in an hour. Didnt even cry.”
Emily let out a bitter laugh. That *was* her motherproud, stubborn, never showing weakness, even if her heart was breaking.
“I need to see her.”
“Tomorrow,” James repeated. “You can barely stand. Shower. Sleep.”
She obeyed. Under the scalding water, she tried to make sense of it. Her mum had moved in after the stroke. The doctors said she needed constant care. Leaving her alone wasnt an option, so Emily brought her home without a second thought.
James hadnt objected at first. Family duty was sacred. But months passed, and her mums recovery was slow. She grew irritable, sharp-tongued. Silent for hours, then lashing outespecially at James.
“Not a proper man,” shed mutter when he left for work. “Cant even fix a leaky tap. Youll end up supporting *him*.”
Emily defended him, explaining that times had changed, that James was a software engineer, that they had a good lifea house, a car, holidays.
“Your grandfather wouldve been ashamed,” her mum would snap. “A real man provides.”
James bit his tongue, but the tension grew. He worked later, avoided dinners, hid in the bedroom when he was home.
Their marriage had witheredonce full of laughter, now just logistics. Whod pick up the dry cleaning? Whod do the grocery run?
And now this. James had made the choice for her while she was away. Her mum was gone.
She slipped into bed. James pretended to read, but his jaw was tight.
“I get why you did it,” she said. “But you shouldve talked to me first.”
“I waited three years for you to decide,” he said, setting the book aside. “Three years of suggesting home carers, nice care homes. We can afford proper help. But you wouldnt listen.”
“Shes my *mother*,” Emily shot back. “She raised me alone after Dad left. Worked two jobs so I could go to a good school, have piano lessons. I cant just *hand her off* to strangers!”
“And what am I?” James asked softly. “Just another stranger?”
She didnt answer. The clock ticked. He turned off the lamp, his back to her. Emily stared at the ceiling, her pulse roaring.
The next morning, Aunt Margaret called. Her mum was “settling in,” didnt want Emily to visit today.
“Take your time,” she said.
Emily didnt buy it. Her mum *always* wanted to see hereven if shed just popped to the shops.
“Im coming,” Emily said firmly and hung up.
James sipped his coffee, feigning disinterest. The kitchen was eerily quietno clattering dishes, no complaints about the tea being weak.
“I took the day off,” he said finally. “We need to talk. Properly.”
She nodded. “Ill see Mum first. Then well talk.”
Aunt Margaret lived across town in a crumbling walk-up. As Emily climbed the cramped stairs, she wondered how her mumstill unsteady after the strokewould manage them daily.
The door swung open. Aunt Margareta stout woman with dyed red hairushered her in.
“Your mothers in the kitchen,” she said.
Emily walked in to find her mum sitting rigid by the window, staring at the grey courtyard below.
“Mum,” she whispered.
“You came, then,” her mother said without turning. “Thought your husband mightve forbidden it.”
“How could you think that?” Emily sat opposite her. “Of course I came.”
“And what exactly happened?” Her mum finally met her eyescalm face, shining gaze. “Nothing much. Your husband showed whos in charge. I always said he was weak. Turns out hes a tyrant.”
Emily sighed. Always extremes with her. No middle ground.
“Hes not a tyrant. We were all struggling.”
“*Struggling*?” Her mum scoffed. “And I wasnt? Being ill, depending on others, hearing how much of a burden I am? You think I didnt see how he looked at me?”
“Mum”
“Dont pity me,” she cut in. “I raised you to be stronger than this. You chose himlive with him. Ill manage.”
Aunt Margaret tactfully left. Emily studied her mothergrey-haired but still striking, spine straight, chin high. Unbending, always.
“I could rent you a flat near us,” Emily offered. “Get you a carer.”
“No.” Her mum set her jaw. “Ill stay here awhile. Then go home.”
“But the doctors said”
“Doctors talk nonsense,” she snapped. “Ill exercise. Monitor my blood pressure. *Adapt*.”
Her voice was steady, but Emily saw the tremor in her hands, the way her fingers clenched the teacup. She was terrifiedalone for the first time in years.
“Ill visit every day,” Emily promised.
“Dont.” Her mum waved her off. “Youve a life. Come weekends.”
That tone. Final. No arguing. Pride had always been her armourand her cage.
An hour later, as Emily left, her mum suddenly grabbed her wrist.
“I just wanted you happy,” she said softly. “Maybe James is right. Maybe youre better off without me.”
Emily hugged her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and rosehome, safety.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Ill always be here.”
Her mum pulled back, face resolute again.
“Go,” she said. “Dont keep your husband waiting.”
Outside, Emily stood on the pavement, gulping cold air. Guilt twisted inside her. Logically, she knew James was right. But her heart ached thinking of her mum feeling discarded.
At home, James had laid out lunchher favourite shepherds pie. They sat across from each other, like old times.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Putting on a brave face,” Emily said.
He nodded. He knew her mumiron-willed, never showing cracks.
“Em, I know youre angry,” he said quietly. “But there was no other way. We were drowningall of us. Your mum was miserable with me. I was miserable with her. And you were torn apart trying to please everyone.”
She stayed silent. There was truth in itugly, unavoidable.
“Heres what I propose,” he went on. “We get her a nice flatsomewhere bright, with a lift. Hire a carer to check in daily. Get her a panic button in case she falls. You visit whenever you want. But she lives separately.”
“And if she gets worse?”
“Then we reassess. Maybe a care home with proper medical staff. But only if we have to.”
Emily studied himtired but determined. Hed put up with three years of scorn, three years of being made to feel inadequate. And hed stayed.
“Okay,” she whispered. “But you *never* make decisions like this behind my back again.”
James smiledthe first real one in ages. “Never.”
They ate in silence, but it was comfortable now, like something had clicked back into place.
Later, Emily called her mum with the new plan. To her surprise, her mum agreedon one condition.
“I pick the flat,” she said. “*And* the carer. No strangers.”
“Of course,” Emily said, smiling.
That evening, she and James curled up on the sofa, watching an old film they used to love. He pulled her close, and she rested her head on his chestsimple, familiar, long-forgotten.
“You know,” James said suddenly, “I thought Id lose you. That youd choose her over me.”
Emily looked up. “And I was scared Id come home one day and youd be gone.”
“Never,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I promise.”
They talked for hourstruly talkedspilling years of resentment and fear and hope.
Somewhere past midnight, Emily remembered Jamess words from the night before: *Your mother doesnt live here anymore*. At the time, theyd sounded brutal. An ending.
Now, she wondered if they were a beginning. A chance for all of them to rebuildto love without smothering, to care without controlling.
She fell asleep in Jamess arms, and for the first time in years, she didnt dream of storms. Only warm sand, a wide blue sky, and a sun that was risingnot setting.
