It was late when Elizabeth returned from her business trip, the London streets quiet beneath the glow of the streetlamps. Her husband, William, stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“Your mother no longer lives here,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.
Elizabeth froze, her grip tightening on her suitcase. A cold draft swept through the hallthe front door had been left wide open, and the light was on in the room where her mother usually slept.
“What do you mean, no longer lives here?” Her voice wavered. “I was only gone three days. Where could she have gone?”
William shrugged, his manner unnervingly calm. “I took her to Aunt Margarets. She agreed to look after her for a while.”
“For a while?” Elizabeth kicked off her heels, her hands shakingfrom exhaustion, shock, the anger simmering inside her. “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. “Three years, Liz. Three years of this. Ive had enough.”
She walked into the kitchen, dropped her bag onto the table, and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, taking long, deliberate gulps. “So while I was away, you justthrew her out?”
“I didnt throw her out. I moved her. With all her things, with every courtesy.” He leaned against the doorframe. “And you know it was the right choice. Shes your mother, but our marriage matters more.”
Elizabeth shook her head. How quickly everything could change. That morning, she had left for her trip certain that home would be exactly as she left it. Now, she stood in a different reality.
“I need to speak to her,” she said, reaching for her phone.
“Its late,” William said. “Almost eleven. Call her tomorrow.”
“Ill go to Aunt Margarets now.”
“You wont.” His voice was firm. “Youve just come off a train. Youre exhausted. Well talk in the morning.”
She dialled her mothers numberno answer. Then Aunt Margaretsringing, but no one picked up. William watched in silence as she tried again.
“What did you say to her?” Elizabeth demanded, slamming her phone onto the table.
“The truth. That we couldnt live like this anymore. That our marriage was falling apart. That one of us had to leaveher or me.”
“You gave her an ultimatum?”
“Shouldnt I have?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Liz, weve talked about this a hundred times. I cant keep doing this. I want us backjust you and me. No more arguments, no more resentment.”
Elizabeth sank into a chair, covering her face. Yes, they had talked about it. But she never thought he would actually do it. She had hoped, somehow, things would settle on their own.
“How did she take it?” she asked, not looking up.
“Better than I expected. Said shed seen it coming. Packed in an hour. Didnt even cry.”
Elizabeth gave a bitter smile. That was her motherproud, unyielding, never one for scenes, even if her heart was breaking.
“I need to see her,” she said.
“In the morning,” William repeated. “Nowshower and sleep. Youre dead on your feet.”
She obeyed. Under the hot water, she tried to make sense of it. Her mother had lived with them since the stroke. The doctors had insisted she needed constant care. Leaving her alone was unthinkable. So Elizabeth had brought her homeno hesitation, no debate.
William had agreed at first. A daughters duty was sacred. But months passed, and her mothers recovery was slow. She grew irritable, critical. Silent for hours, then erupting in complaints. William bore the worst of it.
“Hes not a real man,” her mother would say when he was at work. “Cant even hammer a nail, cant provide properly. Youll regret staying with him.”
Elizabeth defended him as best she couldexplaining that times had changed, that William was a software engineer, that they had a good life. But her mother only scoffed. “A real man should know how to do everything.”
William stopped reacting, but the tension thickened. He worked late, skipped dinners, hid in the bedroom when he was home. Their marriage, once full of warmth, became a strained cohabitation.
And nowthis. While she was away, William had made the choice for her. Her mother was gone.
When she slipped into bed, William pretended to read.
“I understand,” she said softly. “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 care home. We can afford proper care for her. But you wouldnt listen.”
“Because shes my mother,” Elizabeth snapped. “She raised me alone, worked two jobs to put me through school. I cant just abandon her!”
“And what about me?” William asked quietly. “What am I to you? A stranger?”
She had no answer. The room was silent except for the ticking clock. William turned off the lamp, his back to her. Elizabeth stared at the ceiling, her pulse racing.
The next morning, Aunt Margaret called. Everything was fine, she said. Her mother was settling in.
“Dont come today,” Aunt Margaret added. “Your mother says she needs time.”
Elizabeth didnt believe it. Her mother had always wanted her closeevery day, every hour.
“Im coming anyway,” she said, hanging up.
William sipped his coffee, pretending not to listen. The kitchen was eerily quietno clattering dishes, no complaints about the tea or the state of the floor.
“I took the day off,” he said finally. “We need to talk. Properly.”
She nodded. They did.
“First, Ill see my mother,” she said. “Then well talk.”
Aunt Margaret lived across town, in an old walk-up. Elizabeth climbed the worn stairs, wondering how her motherstill unsteady after the strokewould manage them daily.
Aunt Margaret, a stout woman with dyed red hair, let her in. They barely knew each othera distant cousin, seldom seen.
“Your mothers in the kitchen,” she said.
Elizabeth found her at the small table, back straight, staring out the window.
“Mum,” she said softly.
“You came,” her mother said, not turning. “I thought your husband might stop you.”
“How could you think that?” Elizabeth sat opposite her. “Of course I came.”
“What happened?” Her mother finally looked at hereyes too bright, voice steady. “Nothing unusual. Your husband showed whos in charge. I always said he was weak. I was wrong. Hes a tyrant.”
Elizabeth sighed. Black or whiteno in-between.
“Hes not a tyrant. Its been hard for all of us.”
“Hard?” Her mother gave a sharp laugh. “And its been easy for me? Being ill, depending on others, hearing how Im in the way? You think I didnt notice how he looked at me? How he sighed when I walked in?”
“Mum”
“Dont pity me.” Her mother cut her off. “I didnt raise you for that. You chose himlive with him. Ill manage.”
Aunt Margaret discreetly left. Elizabeth watched her motherproud, unbending, even now.
“Ill find you a flat near us,” she offered. “Or hire a carer.”
“No need.” Her mothers voice was firm. “Ill stay here awhile. Then go back to my own place.”
“But the doctors said”
“Doctors say many things.” Her mother set her jaw. “Ill do my exercises, mind my health. Ill learn to live again.”
Elizabeth saw the fear beneath the steelthe trembling hands, the too-tight grip on the teacup.
“Ill visit every day,” she promised.
“Dont.” Her mother shook her head. “You have your life. Come on weekendsthats enough.”
They talked for an hourabout the flat, what she needed. Her mother refused most offers. Pride, always her greatest flaw and her greatest strength.
As Elizabeth left, her mother suddenly caught her hand.
“I wanted you to be happy,” she said, voice softer now. “Maybe your Williams right. Maybe youll be better without me.”
Elizabeth hugged her, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and rosethe smell of home, of safety.
“I love you, Mum. Ill always be here.”
Her mother pulled away, back to her usual self. “Go on. Dont keep your husband waiting.”
Outside, Elizabeth stood in the cold air, heart aching. William was rightthis was best for all of them. But guilt gnawed at her.
At home, William had made lunchher favourite, shepherds pie. They sat across from each other, like old times.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Stoic,” Elizabeth said.
William nodded. He knew her motheriron-willed, never showing weakness.
“Liz, I know youre angry,” he said. “But there was no other way. We were destroying each other. Your mother was miserable with me. I was miserable with her. And you were torn between us.”
She stayed silent. There was truth in his wordsharsh, uncomfortable.
“Heres my proposal,” he went on. “Well find her a good flatsomewhere bright, with a lift. Hire a carer for meals and cleaning. Get her a panic button, in case shes unwell. You can visit as often as you like. But she lives separately.”
“And if she gets worse?”
“Then we reassess. A care home, if needed. But only then.”
Elizabeth studied himtired, but resolute. Hed endured three years for her. Three years with a woman who despised him. And he hadnt left.
“Alright,” she said quietly. “But no more decisions behind my back.”
William smiledthe first real smile in ages. “Never.”
They ate in silence, but it was a comfortable quiet now. Something had shifted between them, something vital clicking back into place.
Later, Elizabeth called her mother with the new plan. To her surprise, her mother agreed almost immediately.
“Ill choose the flat myself,” she said firmly. “And the carer. No strangers forced on me.”
“Of course, Mum.”
That evening, they watched an old film they used to love. William pulled her close, and she rested her head on his chestsimple, familiar, long forgotten.
“You know,” he said suddenly, “I thought Id lose you. That youd choose her over me.”
Elizabeth looked up. “And I was afraid Id come home one day to find you gone.”
“Never,” he whispered, holding her tighter.
They kissed like they had in the beginningdesperate, alive. Then talked for hours, pouring out every hurt, every fear.
Somewhere past midnight, Elizabeth remembered Williams words from the night before: Your mother no longer lives here. Then, they had sounded like an ending.
Now, she wondered if they were a beginning. A new life for all of themwhere love didnt mean suffocation, where care didnt mean control.
She fell asleep beside him, no nightmares for the first time in years. Just warm seas, sandy shores, and a sun risingnot settingon the horizon.
