Take off your wedding band, dear, my daughter needs it more demanded Mrs. Whitby over the family dinner.
We cant keep putting this off, Poppy! Either you see a doctor, or Ill book the appointment myself, Mark drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes flicking to his wife with barely hidden irritation.
Dont start again, Poppy sighed, running a hand through her hair. Its only been three months. The doctor said we should wait six before getting worried.
Three months? Mark snorted. Weve been married two years. Two! And still nothing. My mother asks every day when shell be getting grandchildren.
Poppy turned away, pretending to search for something in the cupboard. Talk of children always ended in a clash. She wanted a baby too, but nothing was happening, and the constant pressure from Mrs. Whitby only made things worse.
Speaking of your mother, she changed the subject. Dont forget theyre arriving for dinner tomorrow. We need to shop.
Ive already bought everything, Mark grumbled, calming down. Mum asked for roast duck with apples, just like at Christmas. She says your cooking makes the old man miss his own kitchen.
Poppy managed a faint smile. At least one person appreciated her culinary skills. Unlike Mrs. Whitby, who could find fault in everything she did.
Is Lily coming as well? Poppy asked, meaning Marks younger sister.
Of course. And not alone, Mark perked up. Mum says shes got a new beau. A serious sort, a doctor.
Poppy felt a sting of envy. Lily, twentytwo, already had three serious boyfriends in the past year. Mrs. Whitby constantly set her up as the perfect daughterbeautiful, clever, careerdrivenwhile Poppy, at thirty, still had no children and no major promotions.
Im sorry, love, Mark slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. I didnt mean to pressurise you. Im just worried.
I know, she placed her hand over his. Itll be fine. Ill make your favourite duck tomorrow, and everyone will be happy.
He kissed her cheek and drifted to the living room to watch the footie, leaving Poppy in the kitchen to run through the endless todo list: wash the festive china, iron the tablecloth, polish the silver until it gleamedMrs. Whitby would spot any slipup. And she still had to pick an outfitelegant but not gaudy. No matter how hard Poppy tried, Mrs. Whitby always found something to quibble over.
The next morning Poppy rose before sunrise. Mark was still asleep, so she slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him. The day ahead loomed large.
By three oclock the flat sparkled with cleanliness, the duck rotted slowly in the oven, filling the house with a mouthwatering scent, and the table was set as if expecting distinguished guests rather than distant relatives. Poppy scrutinised her reflection in the hallway mirror. The navyblue sheath dress with a high collar slashed her silhouette, and a light touch of makeup freshened her face. On her finger glinted a modest platinum band set with a tiny diamondan heirloom from her parents, not ostentatious but graceful.
You look stunning, Mark said, pulling her into a hug from behind. As always.
Thank you, she smiled, trying to steady her nerves. Every encounter with Mrs. Whitby felt like an exam. I hope your mum enjoys the meal.
She will, he winked. No one can resist your duck.
The doorbell rang precisely at five. Mrs. Whitby was never late.
My dears! she exclaimed, stepping in and planting a kiss on Marks cheek. Poppy received only a dry handshake. Ive missed you!
Behind her shuffled Mr. Whitby, a tall, silverhaired gentleman with a kindly grin. He embraced Poppy, whispering:
Smells amazing, love. My mouths watering.
Poppy returned his smile gratefully; they always got along.
Wheres Lily? Mark asked, helping his parents with their coats.
Shell be here shortly, Mrs. Whitby replied, eyeing the entrance. With Aiden. Theyre stuck at the clinic.
Aiden? Poppy repeated, unfamiliar.
Her fiancé, Mrs. Whitby announced proudly. A neurosurgeon, bright future ahead!
Marks eyebrows rose.
You never mentioned they were engaged, he said.
Not officially, she waved a hand. But hes hinted he wants to ask.
Poppy caught a glimpse of Mr. Whitby rolling his eyes, as if to say the mother was glossing over reality.
Come into the sitting room, Poppy suggested. Ill finish the table. Mark, could you give me a hand?
In the kitchen she breathed out, arranging appetizers while Mark uncorked a bottle of red.
Dont mind your mother, he whispered. She always blows things out of proportion, especially about Lily.
I know, Poppy forced a smile. Just help me carry the salads.
Half an hour later Lily burst in, a vivacious blonde with a flawless manicure, followed by a darkhaired man in his midthirties, impeccably dressed.
Hey everyone! Lily chirped, hugging her brother. Meet Aiden. Aiden, this is my brother Mark and his wife Poppy.
Pleasure, Aiden said, shaking Marks hand and nodding to Poppy. Thank you for having us.
Its tradition, Poppy replied, smiling. A family dinner once a month.
A lovely tradition, Aiden added. Family is what matters most.
Mrs. Whitby beamed at the couple:
See, Mark, Lilys already found a worthy match. Aiden runs the neurosurgery department, mind you.
Mum, Lily rolled her eyes, were just dating. Dont put pressure on Aiden.
No trouble at all, Mrs. Whitby patted her hand. I can see the chemistry. Meanwhile, you two have been married two years with no nest or kids.
Mum! Mark interjected. Weve talked about this.
What did I say? Mrs. Whitby feigned innocence. Just stating the facts.
Conversation swirled around current events, politics, and family news. The duck was a hit; even Mrs. Whitby praised it. Poppy relaxed a little, hoping the night would pass without incident.
When desserta homemade tiramisuwas about to be served, Lily suddenly winced and clutched her finger.
Whats wrong? Aiden asked.
My ring is digging in, she complained, slipping off a thin gold band with a tiny stone. Must be swelling from the heat.
Let me see, Mrs. Whitby took the ring, turning it over. Thats cheap costume jewellery! Lily, you deserve better.
Mum, its a gift, Lily tried to retrieve it, but her mother held it tight.
From whom? Mrs. Whitby demanded.
From a colleague, Lily muttered. For my birthday.
From Kyle? the mother narrowed her eyes. I knew it! Still seeing that scoundrel?
Mum! Lily snapped. Hes a good friend, not a rogue.
Mrs. Whitby huffed and turned to Aiden:
Ignore her, dear. Lily had a bad fling, but shes learned it isnt right for her.
Poppy watched Aiden tense, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation. Mrs. Whitby seized the moment.
See, Poppy, youre wise not to wear cheap trinkets, she said, pointing at Poppys hand. A respectable ring is proper for a married woman.
Poppy instinctively crossed her left hand over her right, as if shielding the band. She hated the way Mrs. Whitby twisted the conversation.
Mark chose that one, Mrs. Whitby continued nostalgically. I remember him showing us the catalogue
Actually, it was a gift from my parents, Poppy corrected softly. A family heirloom.
A heavy silence fell over the table. Mrs. Whitbys lips pressed into a thin line.
So? she finally said. I thought Mark bought it.
Mom, its from my folks, Mark interjected. They wanted me to wear something special.
How sweet of them, Mrs. Whitby replied, feigning satisfaction. In our family we have traditions. I wore my motherinlaws ring, and I hoped to pass it on someday.
First time Ive heard that, Mr. Whitby muttered, ignored by his wife.
Lily could use a proper ring, Mrs. Whitby went on, shifting her gaze between Lily and Poppy. Especially now shes got a serious boyfriend.
Poppy froze, realising where this was heading.
You want me to give my wedding band to Lily? she asked directly.
Why not? Mrs. Whitby feigned offense. Just lend it for a while. Shell need it for an upcoming engagement, after all. Youre married; you dont need to wear it every day.
A tense hush settled. Poppy felt heat rise to her cheeks, Lilys embarrassment, Aidens awkwardness. Only Mrs. Whitby remained unflappable, as if the boundaries shed crossed were invisible to her.
Im sorry, I need to check the dessert, Poppy whispered, rising.
She fled to the kitchen, leaning against the fridge, trying to steady her shaking hands. Six years with Mark had taught her to brace for his mothers outbursts, but tonight had shattered every limit. Demanding her heirloom for a sisterinlawwho might never even marrywas beyond the pale.
The kitchen door opened and Mr. Whitby entered.
Give her a break, love, he said softly. Irinas just a bit peculiar, especially when it comes to Lily.
This isnt just peculiar, Nicholas, Poppy snapped. Its disrespectful to me, to my parents, to our marriage.
I know, he said remorsefully, spreading his arms. Ill talk to her. Dont take it to heart.
Poppy nodded weakly, knowing his words would change nothing. She fetched the tiramisu and began plating it.
Just then Mark stepped into the kitchen.
Poppy, how are you? he asked, avoiding her eyes.
How do you think? she replied quietly. Your mother just demanded I hand over my wedding ring to your sister, and you said nothing.
I understand, he ran a hand through his hair. You know how she is. I just let it slide.
Let it slide? Poppy stared at him, disbelief flashing. This isnt a casual remark. Its a direct order to give up something precious. And you want me to pretend it never happened?
No, of course not, he tried to pull her into an embrace, but she stepped back. I just dont want a scene. Lets finish the night, then Ill speak to her properly.
Remember last time? The one before? she sneered. You promised to talk, and nothing changed.
Poppy he began, but she cut him off. Bring the dessert yourself. Im going to lie down; my heads pounding.
She placed the dessert trays on a trolley and left the kitchen, keeping a straight face. Passing the living room she addressed the guests:
Sorry, Im not feeling well. Mark will bring the dessert. Enjoy.
She shut her bedroom door behind her.
An hour later the guests had said their goodbyes, their voices low and strained. When the last footsteps faded, silence settled over the flat.
Mark knocked gently on the bedroom door.
Poppy, may I come in?
She didnt answer. He peered inside to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window.
Theyre gone? she asked without turning.
Yes, Mark sat beside her. Lily apologised for her mother, and Aiden did too. They were mortified.
And you? Poppy asked, finally facing him. Were you uncomfortable?
Of course, he lowered his head. I should have stopped her. Said something.
But you didnt, she said, the words flat. As always.
I didnt know what to do, he admitted. You know how she is. If I argue, it just gets worse.
Worse? Poppy let out a bitter laugh. Your mother publicly shamed me, demanded the family heirloom, and you stayed silent. Just like always.
She stood and walked to the window.
Ive been thinking, she said, watching the city lights flicker. Whatll happen when we finally have a child and your mother decides she knows best how to raise it? Will you keep quiet then?
Stop dramatising, Mark said, moving to stand behind her. She just loves Lily a bit too much, wants the best for her.
At our expense? Poppy turned to him, eyes fierce. Thats not love, Mark. Its selfishness. And you enable it by staying mute.
They faced each other, and Poppy saw clearly that Mark would never stand up to his mother. He would always find excuses, always put her comfort above her feelings.
Im exhausted, she whispered. Six years Ive tried to fit into your family, and your mother will never let me in. Never.
What are you saying? fear flickered in his eyes.
She stared at her own ring, the tiny diamond catching the streetlamps glow like a tear.
I think we need to consider our future, she said. Whether theres one for us at all.
Marks face turned pale.
Poppy, you cant
I dont know, she admitted. But tonight I realised one thing: youll never defend me against your mother. I cant live like that.
She slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand.
Im going to my parents for a few days. I need to think.
Please, Poppy, Mark grabbed her hand. Lets talk. I promise Ill change. Ill speak to my mum
Youve promised a dozen times, she said sadly. Nothing ever changes.
She gently released his hand, gathered a few belongings, and walked out. Mark remained by the window, the ring glinting on the bedside tablea silent rebuke of promises broken. He clenched it, aware that it was not yet too late to make things right, but that it would require him to finally say no to his own mother.
