“Your mother doesnt live here anymore,” said her husband as he met her at the door, her suitcase still in hand.
Eleanor froze on the threshold, her fingers tightening around the handle. A draft swept through the hallwaythe front door stood wide open, and in the room where her mother usually slept, the light was still on.
“What do you mean, she doesnt live here?” Eleanors voice wavered. “I was only gone three days for work. Where could she have gone?”
William shrugged and stepped aside, letting her into the flat. His calmness was unnerving, almost indifferent.
“I took her to stay with Aunt Margaret. She agreed to look after your mother for a while.”
“A while?” Eleanor repeated, kicking off her shoes. “What do you mean, ‘a while’? And why did you decide this without me?”
“Because I cant do it anymore,” William said, meeting her gaze squarely. “I cant, and I wont. Three years weve lived like this, Eleanor. Three years of hell. Ive had enough.”
She walked into the kitchen, dropping her bag on the table. Her hands trembledfrom exhaustion, from shock, from the anger simmering inside her. She opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a long drink.
“So, let me get this straight,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “You sent my mother away while I wasnt here?”
“I didnt send her awayI moved her. Properly, with all her things, with respect,” William replied, leaning against the doorframe. “And you know it was the right decision. Shes your mother, but our marriage matters more.”
Eleanor shook her head. It was astonishing how quickly life could change. That morning, shed left London certain everything at home would be the same. Now, shed returned to a different reality.
“I want to speak to her,” Eleanor said, pulling out her phone.
“Its too late,” William cut in. “Nearly midnight. Youll talk tomorrow.”
“Im going to Aunt Margarets now.”
“Youre not,” he said firmly. “Youve just come off a trainyoure exhausted. Well sleep, and in the morning, well figure this out.”
She dialled her mothers number, but the phone was off. Then she tried Aunt Margaretno answer. William watched in silence as she gave up and tossed her mobile onto the table.
“What did you say to her?” Eleanor demanded.
“The truth. That we cant live like this anymore. That our marriage is falling apart. That one of us had to goher or me.”
“You gave her an ultimatum?”
“Shouldnt I have?” William ran a hand through his hair. “Eleanor, weve talked about this a hundred times. I cant keep living like this. I want us to be a family againjust you and me. Without the constant arguments, without the resentment.”
Eleanor sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands. Yes, they had talked about it. But she never thought hed actually go through with it. Shed assumed things would somehow work themselves out.
“How did she take it?” she asked quietly, not looking up.
“Better than I expected. Said shed seen it coming. Packed her things in an hour. Didnt even cry.”
Eleanor let out a bitter laugh. That sounded like her motherproud, unyielding, a woman whod spent her life dealing with hardship alone. She wouldnt make a scene, even if her heart was breaking.
“I need to see her,” Eleanor said.
“Tomorrow,” William repeated. “Right now, you need a shower and sleep. Youre dead on your feet.”
She obeyed. Under the hot water, she tried to make sense of it all. Her mother had moved in after the stroke. The doctors said she needed constant care. Eleanor hadnt hesitatedof course shed take her in. It was the right thing to do.
At first, William hadnt objected. Family duty was sacred. But months passed, and her mothers health improved only slowly. She grew irritable, critical. Days of silence would end in sudden outburstsmostly aimed at William.
“Useless man,” shed mutter when he left for work. “Cant even fix a leaky tap, cant even provide properly. Youll regret staying with him.”
Eleanor defended him as best she could. She explained that times had changed, that William was a software engineer, that they had a good lifea flat, a car, holidays abroad.
“Your father would never have stood for this,” her mother would snap. “A real man should be able to do anything.”
William tried to ignore it, but the tension grew. He stayed late at work, avoided meals together. When he was home, he shut himself in the bedroomto work or just to escape.
Theyd stopped talkingreally talking. Just logistics nowwhod do the shopping, whod collect the dry cleaning. Their marriage, once warm and close, had become little more than flatmates.
And nowthis. William had made the choice without her. Her mother was gone.
Eleanor slipped into bed. William pretended to read, but she knew he was waiting.
“I understand,” she said, pulling the blanket up. “But you shouldnt have done it behind my back.”
“I waited three years for you to decide,” he said, setting the book aside. “Three years of suggesting alternativesa carer, a nice care home. We can afford proper care for her. But you wouldnt listen.”
“Because shes my mother,” Eleanor shot back. “She raised me alone, worked two jobs so I could go to good schools, have piano lessons, study abroad. I cant just hand her over to strangers!”
“And what am I?” William asked softly. “Am I a stranger to you?”
Eleanor didnt answer. The room was silent except for the ticking clock. William turned off the lamp, his back to her. She stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding.
Morning came with a phone call. Aunt Margaret assured her everything was fine, that her mother was settling in.
“You neednt come today,” she said. “Shed like some time to adjust.”
Eleanor didnt believe it. Her mother had always wanted her nearbyevery day, every hour. Even a trip to the shops would prompt a call: “Where are you? When will you be back?”
“Im coming anyway,” Eleanor said and hung up.
William sipped his coffee, pretending not to listen. The kitchen was strangely quietno clattering dishes, no complaints about weak tea or dirty floors.
“I took the day off,” he said, standing. “We need to talk. Properly.”
Eleanor nodded. They did.
“Ill see Mum first,” she said. “Then well talk.”
Aunt Margaret lived across town in a crumbling walk-up. Eleanor climbed the worn stairs, wondering how her mother would manageshe still walked slowly, with a cane.
Aunt Margareta stout woman with dyed red hairopened the door. A distant cousin they rarely saw.
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside. “Your mothers in the kitchen.”
Eleanor slipped off her shoes and followed the narrow hall. The flat was cramped, the kitchen barely holding a table and two chairs.
Her mother sat by the window, spine straight. She didnt turn when Eleanor entered.
“Mum,” Eleanor said softly.
“So you came,” her mother replied. “I thought your husband might forbid it.”
“How could you think that?” Eleanor sat across from her. “Of course I came.”
“And whats happened, really?” Her mother finally looked at her. Her face was calm, but her eyes shone too brightly. “Nothing extraordinary. Your husband showed whos master here. I always said he was weak. I was wrong. Hes a tyrant.”
Eleanor sighed. Always black or white, no in-between.
“Hes not a tyrant, Mum. Hes justoverwhelmed. We all were.”
“Overwhelmed?” Her mother scoffed. “And I wasnt? Being ill, depending on others, hearing how Im in the way? You think I didnt see how he looked at me? How he sighed when I walked in?”
“Mum”
“Dont pity me,” her mother cut in. “Thats not why I raised you. You chose himlive with him. Ill manage.”
Aunt Margaret tactfully left them alone. Eleanor studied her mothergrey-haired but still striking, unbending as ever.
“I could rent you a flat near us,” she offered. “Or hire a carer.”
“No need,” her mother said sharply. “Ill stay here awhile. Then go back to my own place.”
“But the doctors said”
“Doctors say many things,” her mother interrupted. “Ill exercise, mind my health. Learn to live again.”
Her voice was firm, but Eleanor saw her hands shake. For the first time in years, her mother was afraidtruly alone.
“Ill visit every day,” Eleanor promised.
“Dont,” her mother said. “Youve a life. Come weekendsthats enough.”
Eleanor knew that tone. Once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. Pride had always been her greatest flawand her greatest strength.
They talked another hourabout the flat, what needed buying. Her mother refused most offers.
As Eleanor left, her mother suddenly caught her hand.
“I only ever wanted you happy,” she said softly. “Maybe your Williams right. Maybe youll be better without me.”
Eleanor hugged her, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and soapthe smell of home, of safety.
“I love you, Mum,” she whispered. “Ill always be here.”
Her mother nodded, pulling away, her composure restored.
“Go,” she said. “Dont keep your husband waiting.”
Outside, Eleanor stood a moment, breathing deeply. Guilt and grief twisted inside her. Rationally, she knew William was rightthis was better for all of them. But her heart ached at the thought of her mother feeling abandoned.
At home, William had made lunchher favourite shepherds pie. They sat across from each other, like old times.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Stoic,” Eleanor said. “Pretending its all fine.”
William nodded. He knew his mother-in-lawiron-willed, never showing weakness.
“Eleanor, I know youre angry,” he said, meeting her eyes. “But there was no other way. We were destroying each otherall three of us. Your mother was miserable with me. I was miserable with her. And you were torn between us, trying to please everyone, burning yourself out.”
Eleanor stayed silent. There was truth in his wordsuncomfortable, painful truth.
“Ive a compromise,” he went on. “Well rent her a nice flatsomewhere bright, modern, with a lift. Hire a carer to come dailycooking, cleaning, shopping. Get her a panic button in case she falls ill. You can visit as often as you like. But she lives separately.”
“And if she gets worse?”
“Then we reconsider. A care home with proper medical staff, maybe. But only if necessary.”
Eleanor studied himtired but resolute. Hed endured three years for her. Three years of disrespect, of being unwelcome in his own home. And hed stayed.
“Alright,” she said quietly. “But no more decisions behind my back.”
William smiledthe first real smile in ages.
“Never. No more secrets.”
They ate in silence, but it was a comfortable silence now, warm. As if something broken had been mended.
Later, Eleanor called her mother with the new plan. To her surprise, her mother agreed almost immediately.
“But I choose the flat,” she said firmly. “And the carer. No strangers forced on me.”
“Of course, Mum,” Eleanor said, smiling into the phone. “Whatever you want.”
That evening, they sat in the lounge, watching an old film theyd once loved. Williams arm was around her, her head on his chest. Simple. Familiar. Long forgotten.
“You know,” William said suddenly, “I thought Id lose you. That youd choose her over me.”
Eleanor looked up.
“And I was afraid Id come home one day to find you gone,” she admitted. “That youd had enough and just left.”
“Never,” he said, pulling her close. “I promisenever.”
They kissed like they had years agodesperate, hungry, as if time was running out. Then they talkedreally talkedpouring out every hurt, every fear, every lost hope.
Late that night, Eleanor remembered Williams words from the day before: “Your mother doesnt live here anymore.” At the time, theyd sounded cruel, final. An ending.
Now, she wonderedwas it a beginning? A new life for all of them. One where theyd learn to love without suffocating, to care without controlling.
She fell asleep against William, and for the first time in years, her dreams were calmjust warm sand, a wide sea, and a sun rising, not setting, over the horizon.
