28October
Im scribbling this down after an afternoon that still feels raw, as though the kitchen walls have absorbed every sting. The day began with my sisterinlaw, Lucy, flashing a smug grin and lowering the camera. Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family photo, she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm that made my stomach twist.
MumMargarethad barely lifted a spoon before she launched her criticism. Did you deliberately oversalt the stew, or are you simply hopeless in the kitchen? Her tone was low, each word echoing like a bell in my ears. I forced a smile and replied, I followed your recipe to the letter, Mum. You gave it to me yourself.
Its your fault, of course, Margaret huffed, pushing the bowl away with exaggerated flair. David, are you really going to eat that?
David didnt even look up. He methodically ate his portion as if the world hadnt just collapsed around him. Lucy sat opposite, a familiar smirk playing at her lips, and I felt my fists clench under the table.
Mum, why are you being so harsh? Lucy finally spoke, her voice sweet enough to sound supportive but edged with a subtle jab. Maybe shes just used to a different style of cooking. Their family does things differently.
I recognized that toneprotective on the surface, yet it only stoked the fire. Lucy always knew how to disguise a barb with a smile.
David, can you say something? I could no longer hold my composure.
He finally lifted his eyes. Whats there to say? The stew is fine. Eat it and stop picking at it.
Lucy seized the moment, reaching for the bread. See, David likes it. So it must be alright.
Margaret pursed her lips, saying nothing more. The rest of the lunch drifted in a tense silence, broken only by the clink of cutlery and Lucys occasional comment about work, the new car she was planning to buy, and an upcoming holiday in Spain.
I mechanically polished off my bowl. Three years. Three years of marriage to David, three years of enduring the same cutting remarks from Mum, the poisonlaced jokes from Lucy, and Davids mute acceptance. I used to think time would smooth things over, that Id become one of them. The longer it goes on, the clearer it becomes that Ill never truly belong here.
When the meal ended, I cleared the table and washed the dishes while the women retreated to the sitting room for tea. David slipped away to his study, claiming work. I caught fragments of their conversation drifting from the kitchen.
She tries, but you can see shes not one of us, Margaret muttered.
Come on, Mum, give David a break. He loves her, theyre happy together, Lucy cooed.
Loves, loves Love will fade, but the chores and the nagging will stay. Shes a spineless little mouse.
The phrase hit me like a cold splash of water. Ive always been the quiet mouse, the one taught to stay in the background, to be modest and obedient. In school I never argued with teachers; at university I swallowed the snickers of my peers. Now, at thirtytwo, I still swallow them, one quiet bite after another.
Emily, bring the biscuits! Lucy shouted from the sitting room. I wiped my hands, fetched the tin of shortbread from the cupboard, and carried it in. Margaret and Lucy perched on the sofa, scrolling through their phones.
Mum, look at this dress Im thinking of wearing to the party, Lucy held up a photo. Max will be thrilled.
Lovely, dear. That red suit youve got on you looks smashing, Margaret replied.
I set the biscuits down, ready to leave, but Margaret stopped me.
Emily, when are you and David planning to have children? Its been three years already, and theres still nothing happening.
Her question landed like a slap.
We were not ready yet, I managed.
Not ready? At your age you should be thinking about grandchildren. Im not eternal, you know. And you keep dragging your feet.
Maybe they have their own issues, Lucy interjected, trying to soften the blow. A lot of couples are in the same boat.
What issues? Davids a perfectly healthy man. It must be you then.
My cheeks burned. I wanted to explain that it was a joint decision, that we wanted to get on our feet first, buy a place of our own. The words stuck in my throat.
Im going, I whispered, the only thing I could muster.
In the hallway I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and let the heat rise inside me. Every weekend felt the same: visiting Davids parents, feeling like a servant, cooking, cleaning, enduring remarks while David stayed silent. I rushed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and tried to steady myself. Soon wed be home, where it was just the two of us, and David was a different manattentive, caring. Here, in his parents house, he turned into a meek boy.
Back in the sitting room Lucy produced a camera.
Mum, lets get a family photo! Weve never had a decent one.
Great idea! David, come over here! Margaret called.
David shuffled out, yawning.
Whats happening? he asked.
Were taking a family picture.
Lucy started arranging everyone. She placed Margaret in an armchair, David beside her.
Mum, you sit here, Ill stand on the other side of David.
I lingered on the edge, uncertain whether to join. Lucy fiddled with the camera, mumbling to herself.
Can I join too? I asked timidly.
Lucy looked up, stared at me a long moment, then smirked.
Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family photo, she said, lowering the camera.
The room fell silent. I stood frozen, unable to process the remark. Margaret glanced away as if she hadnt heard. David stayed mute.
What? I managed to choke out.
Lucy shrugged. Its a family photo. Our family. Mum, me, David. What are you doing here?
Im Davids wife.
So what? Wives come and go, the family stays.
David, do you hear what your sister is saying? I turned to him.
David finally looked up from his shoes.
Alice, thats enough. Emily will be in the photo too.
Alright, alright, dont take it personally, Lucy waved her hand. I was just joking. Stand over here, on the side.
But something inside me snapped. I turned and walked out of the hallway, my jacket trembling on my shoulders.
Emily, where are you going? David called after me.
Home.
But we said wed stay for dinner.
Im not staying.
Stay if you want, with your family.
I slipped past him, the door closing behind me. The evening wind was sharp, October clouds pressing low. I ran, not looking back, tears blurring the streetlights. The pain was a heavy knot, but also a strange reliefrecognising that I could not keep living like this.
When I finally reached my mothers flat, I let myself collapse onto the sofa. She greeted me with a soft, Emily, love, whats happened? I asked if I could stay with her for a while. She welcomed me without question. We brewed tea, she chatted about the neighbours, her garden, the little daytoday things. I asked her how shed made it through her own marriage.
Respect is the cornerstone, she said. Love can come and go, but respect endures. Your father always listened to me, defended me when needed.
What if he doesnt? I pressed.
Then its not a marriage, its torment. You shouldnt be a servant in your own home.
Her words hit home, confirming what I already knew but needed to hear.
David called the next day; I didnt answer. Later a text arrived: Emily, come home. Lets talk calmly. I didnt reply.
A week passed. I went to work, spent evenings at my mothers, trying to untangle the swirl of anger and exhaustion. The fury faded, leaving a weary clarity that the old pattern could not continue.
David turned up at my mothers on a Saturday. Her daughter answered the door, ushered him in. We sat opposite each other in the living room. He looked tired, unshaven, dark circles under his eyes.
Ive missed you, he said simply.
Ive missed you too, but that doesnt change anything.
What do you want from me?
I want you to see me, to hear me, to stand up for me when it matters. I want to be your husband, not just the man who washes dishes.
He was silent for a moment, then nodded.
I get it. I was wrong. I thought staying out of the way would keep the peace, but I left you to fend for yourself.
Sorry isnt enough. I need change.
What exactly?
I took a deep breath.
Im not coming to your parents every weekend any more. Once a month, at most. And if your mum or Lucy try to put me down, you need to stop them. I shouldnt have to protect myself.
Deal.
And Im done being quiet. Ill speak my mind. If you dont like that, tell me now.
He smiled, a genuine lift of the corners of his mouth.
Speak. Im curious to see the Emily I havent heard in years.
Seriously?
Very seriously. I love it when youre angry; your eyes light up.
I let out a laugh, the first real one in months.
Ill come back home, but if things revert, Ill leave for good.
I wont let that happen, he promised.
We left together, the house empty and quiet. I walked through each room as if seeing it for the first timemy home, my family, my right to belong.
A month later, David really did change. He became more attentive, asked for my opinion, and when Mum demanded a weekend visit, he said we had plans. She complained, but kept quiet. When we finally visited his parents three weeks later, the atmosphere was different. I felt steadier, more confident.
The lunch was relatively calm. Margaret tried to comment on the cooking once or twice, but David steered the conversation elsewhere. Lucy kept her distance, a cool politeness in her tone.
After lunch, while I was drying dishes, Lucy entered the kitchen.
I wanted to apologise, she said, uncertain.
For what? I asked, wiping my hands on a towel.
For the comment about the photo. David scolded me later, saying I was out of line.
You were out of line.
She nodded. Its just Im used to being the centre of his world. Suddenly theres you.
I never took his brother away. I just love him.
I know. Im selfish. I wanted things to stay as they were.
You cant keep everything the same. We grow, we change, we start our own families.
She gave a sad smile. Youre right. Im sorry, truly.
I forgive you, but please dont do it again.
She returned to the sitting room where Margaret leafed through a magazine and David watched TVa typical family scene.
Mom, lets take a photo, Lucy suggested suddenly. We still dont have a proper family picture.
Margaret set the magazine aside. Good idea.
Lucy grabbed her phone, switched to camera mode.
Emily, stand here with David. Mum, sit in the armchair. Ill be on the edge.
I stepped forward, David wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and Lucy aimed the lens.
Smile! One, two, three!
The click sounded. She checked the screen, nodded.
Looks great. A real family.
I looked at the picture. For the first time in ages, we actually looked like a familynot a collection of strangers.
On the drive home, I stared out the window, thinking about how much has shifted in just a month. Ive learned to speak up, to protect myself, and David has learned to listen. Even Lucy and Margaret have become a bit more cautious.
What are you thinking about? David asked, glancing at me.
That sometimes you have to walk away so people finally hear you.
I heard you. I wont lose you again.
I smiled, feeling a warmth I havent felt in years. Theres still work to do, but now were truly together.
Later, over tea in the kitchen, David asked, Are you really going to stop being quiet?
I wont. Ready?
Ready.
I burst into genuine laughter, the sound ringing through the house. I finally believe I have the right to be myself, to have a voice, and to claim a place not just at the kitchen table but in every family photograph.
