“Your mum doesnt live here anymore,” said Mark, meeting me at the door with my suitcase in hand.
Emily froze on the threshold, gripping the handle of her bag. A draft swept through the hallwaythe front door was wide open, and the light was on in the room where her mum usually slept.
“What do you mean, she doesnt live here?” Emilys voice trembled. “I was only away for three days. Where could she have gone?”
Mark shrugged and stepped aside, letting her into the flat. He was oddly calm, almost indifferent.
“I took her to Aunt Margarets. She agreed to look after your mum for a bit.”
“For a bit?” Emily kicked off her heels. “What does that mean? And why did you decide this without me?”
“Because I cant do it anymore,” Mark said, meeting her eyes. “I just cant. Three years of this, Em. Three years of hell. Ive had *enough*.”
Emily walked into the kitchen and dropped her bag on the table. Her hands shookfrom exhaustion, shock, the anger bubbling inside her. She opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a few gulps.
“So let me get this straight,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “You kicked my mum out while I was gone?”
“I didnt kick her out. I moved her. With all her things, with respect,” Mark said, leaning against the doorframe. “And you *know* it was the right call. Shes your mum, but our marriage comes first.”
Emily shook her head. It was mad how fast everything could change. That morning, shed left for her work trip thinking everything at home was normal. Now she was back to a different reality.
“I need to talk to Mum,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“Its too late,” Mark said. “Nearly eleven. Call her tomorrow.”
“Im going to Aunt Margarets now.”
“No, youre not,” Mark said firmly. “You just got off a train. Youre exhausted. Well sleep, and well talk in the morning.”
Emily dialled her mums number, but the phone was off. She rang Aunt Margaretit just kept ringing. Mark watched silently as she tried again and again.
“What did you *say* to her?” Emily finally snapped, slamming her phone onto the table.
“The truth. That we cant live like this anymore. That our marriage is falling apart. That one of us had to leaveher or me.”
“You gave her an ultimatum?”
“Shouldnt I have?” Mark ran a hand through his hair. “Em, weve talked about this a hundred times. I cant keep living like this. I want *us* backjust you and me. No more shouting matches, no more walking on eggshells.”
Emily sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands. Yeah, they *had* talked about it. But she never thought hed actually go through with it. Shed hoped things would just sort themselves out.
“How did she take it?” Emily asked, not looking up.
“Better than I expected. Said she saw it coming. Packed her things in an hour. Didnt even cry.”
Emily let out a bitter laugh. That sounded like Mumstubborn, proud, never letting anyone see her crack. She wouldnt make a scene, even if her heart was breaking.
“I need to see her,” Emily said.
“Tomorrow,” Mark repeated. “Right nowshower, then bed. Youre dead on your feet.”
She gave in. Under the hot water, she tried to make sense of it all. Mum had lived with them ever since her stroke. The doctors said she needed round-the-clock care. Leaving her alone wasnt an option. So Emily had brought her homeno second thoughts, because it was the right thing to do.
Mark hadnt objected at first. Family was family. But months passed, and Helens recovery was slow. She grew irritable, nitpicky. Shed go silent for hours, then suddenly snap at Mark.
“Not much of a man, is he?” shed say when he left for work. “Cant even put up a shelf properly. Youll struggle with him, love.”
Emily defended himexplained that times had changed, that Mark was a software engineer, that they had money, a nice flat, holidays abroad. But Mum just scoffed.
“My father wouldve never”
Mark bit his tongue, but the tension grew. He worked later, skipped dinners, hid in the bedroom. Their marriageonce warm, full of laughterbecame just two people sharing a space.
Now this. Hed made the choice for her while she was away. Mum was gone. No discussion.
Emily slipped into bed. Mark was pretending to read.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “But you shouldnt have done it behind my back.”
“I waited *three years* for you to decide,” Mark said, setting the book aside. “Three years of suggesting thingsa carer, a nice care home. We can afford it. But you wouldnt listen.”
“Because shes my *mum*,” Emily shot back. “She raised me alone, worked two jobs so I could go to a good school, have piano lessons. I cant just *hand her off* to strangers!”
“And what about me?” Mark asked softly. “Who am I to you? Just another stranger?”
Emily didnt answer. The room was silent except for the ticking clock. Mark turned off the light, his back to her. Emily stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding.
The morning rang with Aunt Margarets call. Everything was fine, Helen was settling in, no need to worry.
“Dont rush over today,” Margaret said. “Your mum says she needs time to adjust.”
Emily didnt buy it. Mum *always* wanted to see hercalled if she was five minutes late from the shops.
“Im coming anyway,” Emily said, hanging up.
Mark sipped his coffee, pretending not to hear. The kitchen was oddly quietno clattering pans, no complaints about weak tea or messy floors.
“I took the day off,” Mark said, standing. “We need to talk. Properly.”
Emily nodded. Yeah, they did.
“Ill see Mum first,” she said. “Then well talk.”
Aunt Margaret lived across town in a run-down block with no lift. As Emily climbed the cracked stairs, she wondered how Mum would manageshe still walked slowly after the stroke.
Margareta plump woman with dyed red hairopened the door. A distant cousin they barely saw.
“Shes in the kitchen,” Margaret said, stepping aside.
The flat was cramped, the kitchen barely fitting a table. Helen sat by the window, spine straight. She didnt turn when Emily walked in.
“Mum,” Emily whispered.
“You came, then,” Helen said, still staring outside. “Thought your husband mightve forbidden it.”
“How could you think that?” Emily sat across from her.
“Whats happened, then?” Helen finally looked at her. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were too bright. “Your Marks shown whos boss. I always said he was weak. Turns out hes a right tyrant.”
Emily sighed. Always black or white with her. No in-between.
“Hes not a tyrant, Mum. Its just been hard. For all of us.”
“Hard?” Helen scoffed. “And its been easy for me? Being ill, relying on people, hearing how much of a burden I am? You think I didnt see how he looked at me?”
“Mum”
“Dont pity me,” Helen cut in. “I didnt raise you for that. You chose himlive with him. Ill manage.”
Margaret tactfully left. Emily studied her mumgrey-haired but still striking, shoulders squared. Unbreakable, even now.
“I could get you a flat near us,” Emily offered. “Or hire someone to help.”
“Dont bother,” Helen said. “Ill stay with Margaret awhile. Then go back to my place.”
“But the doctors said”
“Doctors say a lot,” Helen snapped. “Ill do my exercises, mind my health. Learn to live again.”
Her tone was firm, but Emily saw her hands tremble. For the first time in years, Mum was scared.
“Ill visit every day,” Emily promised.
“Dont,” Helen said. “Youve your own life. Weekends are enough.”
That tonefinal. No arguing. Pride had always been her armour.
An hour later, as Emily left, Helen suddenly grabbed her wrist.
“I just wanted you happy,” she said softly. “Maybe your Marks right. Maybe youll be better off.”
Emily hugged her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and soap. Home. Safety.
“I love you, Mum,” she whispered. “Ill always be here.”
Helen nodded, pulling away. Back to steel.
“Go on, then,” she said. “Dont keep him waiting.”
Outside, Emily took deep breaths, guilt gnawing at her. Mark was rightthis *was* better. But her heart ached thinking of Mum alone.
At home, Mark had made lunchher favourite pasta bake. They sat opposite each other, like old times.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Stubborn,” Emily said. “Pretending shes fine.”
Mark nodded. He knew Helen well.
“Em, I know youre angry,” he said quietly. “But I couldnt see another way. We were destroying each other. Your mum was miserable with me. I was miserable with her. And you were stuck in the middle.”
Emily stayed quiet. He wasnt wrong.
“Heres what Im thinking,” Mark went on. “We get her a nice flatsomewhere bright, with a lift. Hire someone to help with shopping, cleaning. Get one of those emergency buttons. You visit as much as you want. But she lives separately.”
“And if she gets worse?”
“Then we rethink. Maybe proper care *would* be best. But not yet.”
Emily studied himtired but determined. Hed put up with three years of being belittled, resented. And hed *stayed*.
“Alright,” she said softly. “But no more decisions behind my back.”
Mark smiledproperly, for the first time in ages.
“Promise.”
They ate in silence, but it was comfortable now. Like something had clicked back into place.
Later, Emily rang Mum with the plan. To her surprise, Helen agreed straight away.
“I pick the flat, though,” Helen said. “And the help. No strangers.”
“Of course, Mum.”
That evening, they curled up on the sofa with an old film they used to love. Marks arm around her, her head on his chest. Easy. Familiar.
“Yknow,” Mark said suddenly, “I thought Id lose you. That youd choose her over me.”
Emily looked up.
“And I thought one day Id come home, and youd just be gone,” she admitted.
“Never,” Mark said, pulling her closer. “I promise.”
They kissed like they hadnt in yearsdesperate, like they were running out of time. Then they talkedreally talkedfor hours. Letting out all the hurt, the fear.
Sometime past midnight, Emily remembered Marks words from yesterday: *Your mum doesnt live here anymore*. At the time, theyd felt like an ending.
Now? Maybe a beginning. For all of them.
She fell asleep curled into Mark, no nightmares for once. Just warm dreams of the sea, sandy shores, and a sun that was risingnot setting.
