My husband brought his mother to live in our tiny flat.
“Mums going to stay with us for a while,” Andrew said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the cramped hallway. “Theres a burst pipe in her place, and the repairs will take ages. Cant have her living on the street, can we?”
Emily froze, clutching a towel as she stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair leaving dark patches on the sleeves of her old dressing gown. Behind Andrew stood his mother, Margaret, with two enormous suitcases and a cardboard box tied up with string.
“Hello, love,” Margaret said cheerfully, as if oblivious to Emilys stunned expression. “Dont worry, I wont be under your feet for long. Once the plumbers sort the mess, Ill be off. A month, topsmaybe two.”
A month? Two? In a thirty-square-metre flat with a kitchen the size of a cupboard and a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in? Emily felt her stomach tighten with dread.
“Margaret, lovely to see you,” she forced a smile, fighting the panic. “But are you sure youll be comfortable here? Maybe one of your friends could put you up?”
“Oh, dont be silly, dear,” Margaret waved her off, stepping inside. “Most of my friends are too old to take guests, and I dont want to trouble them.”
*But troubling us is fine*, Emily thought but said nothing.
“Right, lets get your things sorted, Mum,” Andrew gestured to the corner near the bookshelf. “Youll take the sofa, and Emily and I will manage with the fold-out.”
“Absolutely not!” Margaret huffed. “You two take the proper bed. Ill manage on the fold-out.”
“Mum, your backs bad. You cant sleep on that,” Andrew said firmly.
Emily watched in silence, feeling like an outsider in her own home. The flat was hers, inherited from her grandmother before the wedding, but that hardly mattered nowAndrew had made the decision without even consulting her.
“Ill put the kettle on,” she said at last, retreating to the kitchen, where the fridge, stove, and tiny dining table left barely any space to move. “Margaret, you must be hungry after the journey?”
“Dont fuss, I had a sandwich on the coach,” Margaret called back, already unpacking on the armchair. “Tell me, how are you two managing? Andrew says everythings fine, but its a bit cramped, isnt it? High time you found somewhere bigger.”
Emily pressed her lips together. That was a sore subject. Theyd love a bigger place, but between Andrews mechanic wages and her primary school teacher salary, they barely scraped by. A mortgage was out of the question.
“Mum, weve talked about this,” Andrew sighed. “Nows not the time for house-hunting.”
“When *will* it be?” Margaret shook her head. “Youre thirty-two, Emilys twenty-eight. You ought to be thinking about children, but where would you put them here?”
Emily felt her cheeks burn. Kidsanother sore point. Four years married, and Margaret never missed a chance to remind them she wanted grandchildren.
“Mum, not now,” Andrew shot Emily an apologetic look. “Emilys knackered after work, and youve had a long trip. Lets just relax.”
Margaret sniffed but dropped the subject, fussing with her things instead.
Emily escaped to the kitchen, breathing deeply. She loved Andrewreally, she did. But his eagerness to please his mother, his inability to say *no*, drove her mad. Bringing Margaret into their shoebox flat without warning, without even asking
The kettle boiled, and she mechanically made tea. Through the small window, the grey tower blocks of the estate loomed under a heavy October sky. The gloomy view matched her mood perfectly.
“Emily, love, need a hand?” Margarets voice behind her made her jump.
“No, thanks, Margaret,” she forced a smile. “Just lost in thought.”
“About what?” Margaret perched on the edge of a creaking chair.
“Work,” Emily lied. “Tough class this yeartwenty-eight kids, half of them with no discipline.”
“Ah, whats the world coming to?” Margaret tutted. “In my day, children respected their elders. Now its all rudeness and no consequences.”
Emily said nothing, pouring the tea. Margaret always idealised the past, dismissing anything modern as “gone to the dogs.” Arguing was pointlessshe never listened.
“Mum, all settled in?” Andrew poked his head in. “Oh, teaperfect. Early shift tomorrow, so Ill turn in soon.”
“Of course, love,” Margaret patted his arm. “You get your rest. Emily and I will have a nice chat.”
*Just what I need*, Emily thought but stayed silent. Andrew gave her a grateful nod and disappeared, leaving her alone with Margaret.
“How are things really with you two?” Margaret asked bluntly, sipping her tea. “Andrew always says fine, but I can tell somethings off.”
“Everything *is* fine,” Emily kept her tone neutral. “Just the usual married life.”
“Hmm, married life,” Margaret mused. “Wheres the spark? Hes lost weight, looks tired. You feeding him properly?”
“I do my best,” Emily took a sip to hide her irritation. “We both work lateproper meals arent always possible.”
“Young people today,” Margaret shook her head. “In my day, wives managed work *and* home-cooked meals. Now its all takeaways and ready meals. No wonder everyones poorly.”
Emily bit her tongue. Margaret was elderly, in a difficult spot. Shed try to be patientfor Andrews sake.
“Ill cook more,” she said. “Especially now youre here. Any childhood favourites of Andrews I should know?”
That brightened Margaret up, and for the next half-hour, Emily endured a lecture on shepherds pie “just like Grans,” proper Sunday roasts, and other dishes Andrew had supposedly adored but never mentioned in four years of marriage.
Finally, pleading exhaustion, Emily escaped to the bathroom. Locking the door, she sat on the edge of the tub and exhaled. How would they survive three in this tiny flat? Where could she go to be alone? How could she keep any boundaries when the walls themselves seemed to press in?
When she emerged, Andrew was asleep on the fold-out, and Margaret had commandeered the sofa, flipping through a magazine. Tiptoeing past, Emily squeezed onto the narrow bed beside Andrew. *Needs must*, as the saying wentthough right now, she mostly felt the *must* without the *needs*.
Morning was chaos. The postage-stamp bathroom now serviced three people, all scrambling to get ready. Emily, who usually relished her slow wake-upa leisurely shower, quiet coffee, careful makeupnow raced against Margaret, who, despite being retired, was annoyingly spry at dawn.
“Emily, I washed your blouse,” Margaret announced at breakfast. “The white one on the chaircovered in stains. Disgraceful.”
“What?” Emily nearly choked on her coffee. “Id soaked it in a special solution! It was red wineyou cant just chuck it in with normal detergent!”
“Nonsense,” Margaret scoffed. “Ive used washing soap all my life, and my clothes are fine.”
Emily stormed to the bathroom. Her favourite blouse, a sale splurge, now had a sickly yellow tinge where the wine stain had been. She gritted her teeth.
“Everything alright?” Andrew appeared behind her. “Mum said you were upset about the blouse. Dont worry, Ill buy you a new one.”
“Its not about the blouse,” she said quietly. “Its about her touching my things without asking. And Andrewwhy didnt you *warn* me you were bringing her? We couldve prepared, discussed how to manage.”
“Sorry,” he looked down. “I knew youd say no, so I thought itd be easier to just do it. But its temporary, I swear. Once her repairs are done, shell go.”
“I hope so,” Emily sighed. “Just talk to her, alright? Explain we have our own way of doing things. And that she cant just help herself to my stuff.”
“Course,” Andrew kissed her cheek. “Promise, itll get better.”
It didnt. With each day, Margaret grew bolderrearranging cupboards, criticising Emilys cooking, even commenting on how she folded laundry. Emily bit her tongue, reminding herself Margaret was set in her ways, probably uncomfortable too. But patience wore thin.
“Youre never home anymore,” Andrew remarked after two weeks. “Mum said you got back at nine yesterday.”
“Parents evening,” Emily said tiredly. “Waitshes *tracking* me now?”
“Shes just concerned,” Andrew soothed. “Thinks youre avoiding us.”
“And Im not?” Emily met his eyes. “Andrew, I cant do this. Every little thing I do is wrong. I feel like a guest in my own home.”
“Youre overreacting,” he frowned. “Mums only trying to help.”
“Help *you*, maybe. Not me,” Emily pulled away. “I need space, Andrew. To be *me*, not live up to someone elses standards.”
“Wheres she supposed to go?” Andrews voice sharpened. “Her flats uninhabitable. Youd throw my own mother out?”
“Of course not,” Emily shook her head. “But there were other options. Her sister in Brighton. Or a rented room.”
“With what money?” Andrew threw up his hands. “You know what I earn. Were barely scraping by.”
Emily stayed silent. Money was another sore spot. Andrew was kind but unambitioushe couldve been a senior mechanic by now, even opened his own garage. But he preferred his comfort zone: no stress, no responsibility.
“Fine,” she said at last. “Ill manage. But *talk* to her. Explain I dont need parenting.”
“Alright,” Andrew nodded, relieved. “Ill sort it.”
He didnt. Maybe he tried, but Margaret either didnt hear or didnt care. Life revolved around her rulesmeals at strict times, laundry on specific days, even TV schedules: news first, then her soaps, then *maybe* something else.
The final straw came Sunday morning. Emily, finally catching up on sleep, found Margaret rummaging through her makeup bag.
“Margaret, what are you doing?” she snapped, snatching it back.
“Oh, youre awake,” Margaret said breezily. “Just wanted to see what moisturiser you use. My hands are dry.”
“You couldve *asked*,” Emily kept her voice level. “These are my things.”
“Dont be daft,” Margaret rolled her eyes. “Were family. No secrets in my day.”
“In *your* day, maybe. Not mine,” Emilys temper flared. “I like my privacy. Respect that.”
“Selfish, thats what you are,” Margaret pursed her lips. “Andrew, hear how your wife speaks to me?”
Andrew, watching from the sofa, cleared his throat.
“Mum, shes right. You cant just go through her stuff.”
“Her *stuff*?” Margaret gasped. “Im family, and she begrudges me hand cream?”
“Its not about the cream,” Emily said wearily. “Its about boundaries.”
“Boundaries? In a *family*?” Margaret scoffed. “No wonder marriages fail these days. Mine, mine, mineno wonder kids grow up selfish.”
Emilys control snapped. Three weeks of swallowed frustration boiled over.
“You know what?” she said, startling herself with her calm. “Im going for a walk. Need air.”
She grabbed her coat and left, ignoring Andrews confusion and Margarets glare. Outside, a chilly November drizzle fell, but Emily barely noticed. She walked fast, directionless, just putting distance between herself and the suffocating flat.
In an empty park, she sank onto a wet bench. Her phone buzzedAndrew. She ignored it. Let him worry. Let him feel how it stung to be disregarded.
After an hour, she answered his fifth call.
“Emily, where are you?” Andrew sounded frantic. “Youve been gone ages!”
“The park,” she said. “Thinking.”
“About what?”
“Us,” she exhaled. “About how I cant do this anymore. Either your mother leaves, or I dont know what happens next.”
“Dont be dramatic,” Andrews voice hardened. “Its just makeup.”
“Its *not* just makeup!” Emilys voice rose. “Im drowning, Andrew. I dont feel like a person anymorejust an afterthought in *your* family.”
“What dyou want me to do?” he asked after a pause.
“Ill rent a room,” she said firmly. “For a month, until her repairs are done. Then we talkproperlyabout our future.”
“Youre serious?” Andrew sounded stunned. “Youd leave over *this*?”
“Its not this, Andrew,” she said quietly. “Its *everything*. Im trying to save myselfand maybe us too.”
Hanging up, she felt an odd relief. For the first time in weeks, shed made a choice *for herself*, not to please others. Hard as it was, it was *hers*.
She stood, heading for the park gates. Her friend Sarah had recently split from her husbandshed have a spare room. It wasnt perfect, but it was a start.
As for the rest? Maybe space would make Andrew see that marriage wasnt just mother and sonit was partnership, respect. Maybe Margaret would learn that a daughter-in-law wasnt a threat but a person with her own ways.
Either way, Emily wasnt going back to that stifling flat tonight. Not until she had her own spaceand her own voiceback.
