22October2025
Dear Diary,
Tonight I gave my wife an ultimatum that felt like a line drawn in the sand: Either your mother moves out, or we part ways. Id had enough of her latest drama.
How much longer are we going to wait? Well be late! Olivia glanced anxiously at the clock, shifting from one foot to the other in the hallway.
Just a moment, Im fixing my tie, Andrew called from the bedroom. Wed be on our way already if you hadnt changed your dress three times.
Dont even start, Olivia snapped, irritated. I want to look presentable at your company dinner, not like a drab mouse!
Andrew stepped into the doorway, knotting his tie. At fortyfive he still kept a fit shape, though a few silver strands had begun to show at his temples.
You always look splendid, he said more gently. Especially when youre not on edge.
Olivia opened her mouth to reply, but just then Ethel, Olivias mother, appeared from the kitchen holding a steaming mug of tea.
Where are you two all dressed up for? she asked, scanning them with a practiced eye.
Its Andrews corporate dinner, Mum. I told you this morning, Olivia adjusted her earrings.
Ah, right, Id forgotten, Ethel sipped her tea. Why so late? Its already nine oclock.
Were in a hurry, thats why, Andrew tried to stay calm, though his stomach was already in knots. Olivia, shall I book a cab or drive us?
A cab, please. Id like you to relax a bit, Olivia replied, pulling out her phone.
Good call, Ethel interjected. Men always turn into rakes once theyve had a drink, but when it comes to responsibility they hide like mice in the hedgerows.
Andrew clenched his teeth, counting to ten. Every remark from my motherinlaw seemed like an accusation, even the harmless ones about the weather.
Mum, could you please Olivia whispered, shooting me an apologetic glance.
Alright, Ill keep quiet, Ethel retreated to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar so she could eavesdrop.
The cab will be here in five minutes, Olivia said, slipping her phone into her evening bag.
Got it, I said, slipping on my jacket. Did you grab the keys?
Yes, I have everything.
Ethel reappeared from the kitchen.
When will you be back? Should I lock the door for the night?
No need to lock it, Mum. We have a spare set.
What if you lose them? Or have a bit too much to drink? she eyed me sceptically.
We wont lose them, I replied firmly. I know my limits.
Everyone says that, then they, she began, but the doorbell cut her off. The taxi pulled up, and I let out a breath I didnt realise Id been holding. Another evening without Ethels running commentary.
Dont stay out too late! Ethel shouted after us.
In the back seat Olivia squeezed my hand.
Sorry about my mum, she murmured. She just worries.
Its fine, I said, watching the dark streets flicker by. The lamplight swam over hurried pedestrians, and sometimes I wished I could melt into that crowdfree of the feeling that every step I took was being judged.
Three months ago Ethel moved in with us after Olivias father passed away. It was supposed to be temporary, a stopgap until she got used to life without him. That temporary has stretched into a permanent, and our threebed flat now feels more like a cage than a home.
The corporate dinner was held at a swanky restaurant in the City of London. The décor was elegant, live piano music filled the room, and colleagues arrived in their finest attire. I gradually relaxed, chatting with coworkers and their partners. Olivia shone in her darkblue dress, charmed everyone around her.
Your wife is wonderful, Victor Hartley, the company director, said to me at the bar. A true lady.
Thank you, I replied, pride swelling as I watched Olivia laughing with Victors wife. Im lucky.
How long have you two been married?
April will mark fifteen years.
Impressive. Any children?
No, I shook my head. Weve tried for years, but doctors keep saying everythings finethey just want us to be patient. Eventually we decided we could be happy just the two of us.
The evening went on. I had a couple of glasses of winenothing more; I always know when to stop, contrary to what Ethel would have liked. By eleven I was ready to head home.
Shall we stay a bit longer? Olivia asked. We just started dancing.
Give us another half hour, then we go, I agreed. Tomorrows a workday.
She smiled and pulled me onto the dance floor. To the slow music we swayed, feeling like we were back in our youth. I held her close, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and thought that perhaps things werent so bad after all. A troublesome motherinlaw, many couples live under the same roof.
We got back around midnight. The flat was still lit, though I hoped Ethel would already be asleep.
You finally made it, Ethels voice rang out as we crossed the threshold. I was about to call the police.
Its just a corporate dinner, Mum, Olivia replied, weary.
In my day respectable people didnt return home so late, Ethel muttered. And you always bring home the bottle, Andrew.
Ive only had two glasses all night, I tried to stay composed.
Everyone says that, Olivia interjected. Lets talk tomorrow.
Of course, Ethel sighed dramatically. My opinion doesnt matter to anyone here.
I slipped into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away the tension that had built up over fifteen years of marriage. When I emerged, Olivia was already in bed.
Dont let Mum get to you, she whispered. Shes still grieving her husband.
I understand, I lay beside her. But this has been going on for three months. Shes constantly in the room, constantly commenting.
Shell adjust, Olivia stroked my hand. Give her time.
I wanted to admit that I was scaredto become accustomed to the constant criticism, to the need to justify every move, to lose any sense of personal space. I kept quiet. Olivia was drifting off, and I faced another grueling workday.
Morning began with the smell of fried fishsomething Ive never liked, and Ethel knew that well.
Morning, she grumbled, stirring a pan. Breakfast will be ready shortly.
Thanks, but Ill grab something at the office, I poured a mug of coffee, checking my watch. Im in a rush.
As always, Ethel sighed theatrically. My cooking isnt good enough for the gentleman manager.
Its not about the food, I said, taking a sip. I really must be off.
Olivia will have a proper breakfast at home, like a respectable wife, she declared, placing a sizeable portion of fish on a plate. Not like some lads who run around like lunatics.
I finished my coffee in silence and headed for the door. In the hallway I found Olivia halfasleep.
Already off? she asked, surprised.
Yes, Ive got a lot to do. I kissed her cheek. Your mum made fish again.
Again, she winced. Ill talk to her later.
No need, I replied, exhausted. It wont change anything.
The workday dragged on, my mind repeatedly pulled back to the flat. At lunch Olivia called.
Hey, hows it going? she sounded tense.
Fine, just working. Whats up?
Mum was sorting through my wardrobe. She said she was tidying up. I told her you dont like anyone touching your stuff, and she got upset.
Im fed up, I snapped. Why does she think she can run the house?
Shes just trying to help, Olivia defended. You know how she isalways busy, needs something to do.
Let her mind her own business! I raised my voice, realising my colleagues might hear. Ill call back later.
I hung up and stared out the window. Maybe I should have suggested she move back into her own flat. She had sold hers shortly after her husband died, saying it held too many memories. Now there was nowhere for her to go.
That evening I stayed late at the office, unwilling to face the flat. When I finally got home, Olivia met me with a guilty look.
Did something happen? I asked, slipping off my shoes.
Your model airplane got broken, she said quietly. The one you brought back from Germany.
I froze. The rare Messerschmitt replica had been months of painstaking assembly.
Accidentally? I asked.
Yes, she was vacuuming, tripped over the wardrobe, and the model fell.
Why was she cleaning my study? I felt anger rising. We agreed that was the one room she wouldnt enter!
She was trying to be nice, Olivia said, eyes downcast. She knew Id be late and wanted to tidy up.
Where is she now?
At a neighbours. She said shed return once youve calmed down.
I walked into the study. The broken wings and shattered fuselage lay scattered on my deskmonths of work reduced to shrapnel.
That was the last straw, I whispered.
Andrew, please, Olivia pleaded from behind. She didnt mean it.
Its not about the plane, I turned to her. Its about your mother not respecting our space, our rules, our relationship. She inserts herself into everything.
Shes only worried about us, Olivia tried to defend, but her voice lacked its usual confidence.
No, Olivia, I said firmly. Shes not worried. Shes controlling. I cant live like this any longer.
What do you mean? fear flickered in her eyes.
Either your mother moves out, or we divorce, I declared. Im not joking. Im at my limit.
Olivia recoiled as if struck.
You cant be serious! Kick your own mother out?
Im not kicking her out. She can rent a flat nearby. Well help financially, visit often. But living under the same roof is impossible for me.
What if I choose my mother? she asked softly.
Then well have to part, I answered, equally soft. Fifteen years Ive put you first, but the past three months I feel like a guest in my own home.
Tears welled in Olivias eyes.
Its unfair! Mum is lonely, she needs support!
And I need my wife, my home, a place where I can unwind without waiting for the next remark, I replied, moving closer.
At that moment the front door slammed openEthel was back. Hearing our voices, she marched in.
Oh, here we are, she said, stepping over the threshold. Probably youve been feeding me lies about me, havent you? I was only trying to do whats best. And that dusty toy of yours was already gathering cobwebs, no use at all.
Mum! Olivia cried. Not now, please.
When will you listen to the truth, Andrew? Hes.
Enough, I interrupted, surprised at my own calm. Ethel, lets sit down and talk like adults.
She fell silent, taken aback. We moved to the sitting room and took places: me in an armchair, Olivia and her mother on the sofa.
I understand how hard it is to lose a husband after so many years, I began. But you must also understand us. Olivia and I have built a life together over fifteen years, and now that life is at risk.
Its my fault? Ethel snapped.
Yes, I said plainly. Your constant oversight, the comments, the interference I feel like a stranger in my own house.
This is my home too, she retorted.
Thats exactly why Im suggesting you live separately, I continued, keeping my tone steady. We can help you find a nearby flat, pay part of the rent, visit regularly.
Youre throwing me onto the street? she shouted, flinging her hands. Thats absurd!
No one is being thrown out, I replied patiently. Well assist with a new place. If you refuse, Olivia and I simply cannot stay together.
Youre blackmailing us! she cried. Olivia, youll just stand by?
Olivias face was wet with tears. I dont know what to do, Mum. I love you both. But Andrew is rightthese past months have been hard for everyone.
So you want me to leave? she asked, voice trembling.
I want us all to be happy, Olivia whispered. Right now nobody is.
Silence settled. Ethel looked between her daughter and me, as if seeing us for the first time.
I never imagined it would get this bad, she said slowly. I thought I was helping.
We appreciate your care, I said gently. But sometimes care becomes overbearing.
Ethel lowered her head. After my husband died I feared being alone, feared the quiet. Thats why I meddled, why I tried to controlto feel useful.
Olivia wrapped her arms around her mother. We love you, Mum. Youll always be part of our lives. But perhaps Andrews suggestion is bestmaybe you could live nearby but independently?
Ethel was quiet for a long while, then sighed. You may be right. I didnt want to admit it, but Ive been overstepping. Its hard to accept that Im no longer the centre of my daughters world.
Youll always be important to us, I said. But we must respect each others boundaries.
We talked at length about the future, about how to keep the family close while giving each other space. For the first time in three months I felt truly heard. I even saw Ethel not as an enemy but as a lonely woman terrified of being irrelevant.
The next day Olivia found an advertisement for a onebed flat in the next street over. Andrew and I viewed it, paid the deposit, and helped Ethel move in a week later.
Youre not angry with me? Olivia asked when we returned to our flat after the move.
For what? I replied, surprised.
For the ultimatum. It was harsh.
Sometimes you have to be firm to protect what truly matters, I said, pulling her into a hug. I didnt want to lose you, but I couldnt keep living like this.
You know, Olivia mused, maybe its for the best. Mum sounds almost happy now. She said shed joined a seniors club.
See? She needed her own life, not just to look after us.
We sat on the sofa in the quiet of our flat, enjoying the calm. Olivias phone buzzeda message from her mother with a photo of her new living room, fresh flowers and family pictures on the wall.
It looks like weve got it right, she smiled.
I nodded, feeling the weight of the past months lift. Sometimes you have to reach the breaking point to discover a new path. Sometimes taking a bold stand saves the things you cherish most. And occasionally, an ultimatum, though painful, can lead to a happier ending for everyone.
