Your place is in the kitchen, not in a family photo, my sisterinlaw said with a smirk, lowering the camera.
Did you oversalt the borscht on purpose, or are you just hopeless in the kitchen? Mums voice was low, but each word rang in Emilys ears like a bell.
I followed your recipe, Emily replied, trying to stay calm. You gave it to me yourself.
Right, of course, thats my fault, snorted Margaret, pushing her plate away. James, are you actually going to eat that?
James didnt even look up. He kept tucking into the soup as if nothing was wrong. Lucy sat opposite, smiling that familiar halfgrin that made Emilys fists clench under the table.
Mum, why are you being so harsh? Lucy finally spoke. Maybe shes just used to a different kind of cooking. Their family does things differently.
Emily caught the tone. It sounded like defence, but it was really just feeding the fireLucy always did it that way, soft and sweet, but it cut deep.
James, say something, Emily snapped.
He lifted his eyes slowly. Whats there to say? The soups fine. Eat it and stop nitpicking.
See, Mum? Lucy reached for the bread. James likes it, so it must be okay.
Margaret pursed her lips but said nothing more. The rest of lunch went on in a tense hush, broken only by the clink of spoons and Lucys occasional chatter about work, a new car she was eyeing, and an upcoming holiday to Turkey.
Emily mechanically ate her portion. Three years. Three years married to James and three years of putting up with this. Mums constant jabs, Lucys poisonous quips, Jamess silence. Shed hoped things would smooth out, that shed become part of the family. The longer she stayed, the clearer it became shed never truly belong.
After the meal she cleared the table, washed the dishes, while the women drifted to the sitting room for tea. James slipped off to his bedroom, citing work. From the kitchen Emily caught snippets.
She tries, but you can see shes not one of us, Margaret muttered.
Come on, Mum, stop. James loves her, theyre happy together.
Love, love Love fades, chores and problems remain. Shes nothingno backbone, just a quiet mouse.
Emily clenched the sponge tighter. A quiet mouse. Yeah, thats how shed always been described. As a kid her parents had told her to be modest, to blend in. She never argued with teachers, endured university teasing in silence. Now, at thirtytwo, she still swallowed slights without a word.
Emily, bring the biscuits! Lucy called from the lounge.
Emily wiped her hands, fetched the biscuit tin and carried it over. Margaret and Lucy were on the sofa, scrolling on their phones.
Mum, look at this dress! Ill wear it to the party, Max will love it. Lucy showed a picture.
Lovely, dear. Red suits you.
Emily set the tin down and was about to leave when Margaret stopped her.
Emily, when are you and James thinking of having kids? Its been three years, no progress.
The question hit like a slap. Emily froze.
We arent ready yet.
Not ready? At your age you should be. I want grandchildren; Im not getting any younger.
Mum, maybe they have their own issues, Lucy interjected. A lot of couples do.
What issues? James is healthy. It must be her.
Emily felt her cheeks flush. She wanted to explain that it was a joint decision, that they wanted to get on their feet, buy a flat first. The words got stuck.
Im going, she managed to say.
In the hallway she leaned against the wall, closed her eyes. Inside her, everything was boiling. Weekends were the same: travel to Jamess parents, feel like a maid, cook, clean, endure remarks while James stayed mute. She slipped into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face. Hang on, just a bit longer. When we get home itll be easier. At our place James is differentattentive, caring. Here he turns into a boy who cant stand up.
Back in the lounge Lucy pulled out a camera.
Mum, lets get a family photo! Weve never had a decent one.
Great idea! James, come over here! Margaret called.
James shuffled out of his room, yawning.
Whats happening?
Were taking a family picture.
Alright, lets do it.
Lucy started arranging everyone. She seated Margaret in a chair, placed James beside her.
Mum, you sit here, Ill stand on the other side of James.
Emily lingered at the edge, unsure if she should join. Lucy fussed with the camera, muttering to herself.
Emily, can I join too? she asked shyly.
Lucy looked up, gave Emily a long stare, then smirked.
Your place is in the kitchen, not in a family photo, she said, snapping the camera shut.
Silence fell. Emily stood frozen, disbelief washing over her. Margaret glanced away, pretending not to hear. James stayed quiet.
What? Emily managed.
Nothing, Lucy shrugged. Its a family photo. Mom, me, James. What are you doing here?
Im Jamess wife.
And so what? Wives come and go, families stay.
Jamesdo you hear what your sister is saying?
James finally looked up from his shoes.
Lucy, thats enough. Emily, youre in the picture too.
Okay, okay, Im not mad, Lucy waved her hand. Just joking. Stand over here, on the side.
Emily felt something snap inside. She turned and walked toward the hallway, jacket in hand, shaking.
Emily, where are you going? James called after her.
Home.
But we agreed to stay for dinner.
Im not staying. Stay if you want, with your family.
Emily, dont be like that. Lucys a bit of a fool, you know that.
I know. I know your mum, I know you.
She left without a goodbye. James didnt follow. He stayed with his mum and Lucyhis real family, it seemed.
Outside it was a blustery October evening. Emily hurried, almost ran, tears blurring everything. It hurt, it scared her, because she knew this couldnt go on.
Back at her mothers flat she flopped onto the sofa and finally let the tears flow. When they ran out, she washed her face, brewed a cup of tea, and sat by the window watching the streetlamps flicker.
James came back late, slipped in quietly, looking guilty.
Emily, are you awake?
She stayed silent.
Listen, why did you react like that? Lucy was just being silly.
Its not a joke, James.
I get it, she misspoke. Shes always blurting things out.
And you? Why do you always stay quiet when they put you down?
James ran a hand over his face. What can I do? Its my mum, my sister. I cant fight them over every little thing.
Over a little thing? Emilys voice trembled. They insult me and you call it a little thing?
No ones insulting you! Mum just likes to control everything. Lucys spoiled, but they dont mean harm.
Am I supposed to keep putting up with it?
Dont just put up with it, speak up. Im not saying you cant defend yourself.
Emily let out a bitter laugh.
Speak up, and then youll be mad at me for upsetting your mum.
Remember when I told your mum it was hard for us to come every weekend? You didnt talk to me for a week, called me ungrateful.
James stayed quiet.
And when Lucy said she was surprised I married you, that I was a plain mouse with no beauty or brains, you laughed and said I was handy.
Emily, stop digging up the past.
It was a month ago, James. A month.
Silence stretched. Inside Emily felt a new fire ignitereal, hot anger. Not just at Lucys cruel jokes or Mums endless complaints, but at James, the man who should have stood up for her.
The scariest thing? she whispered. I thought you loved me, that I mattered. Turns out Im just convenient. I cook, wash, tidy, never argue, just a useful wife.
James blinked. What are you talking about?
This isnt nonsense. Its the truth. My place is the kitchen, thats all they want me for.
Enough! James snapped, standing up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Youre blowing this out of proportion.
Nothing? Emily shouted. They humiliate me and you stay quiet. Is that nothing?
No ones humiliating you! Youre just too sensitive! You need a sense of humour!
Emily rose, walked to the bedroom, opened her wardrobe and started packing. Her hands shook, but she kept her composure.
What are you doing? James asked from the doorway.
Im leaving. To my mums.
Because of that silly comment?
Not just the comment. Because you cant see me. You cant hear me.
Emily, lets talk normally, no tantrums.
Im not having a tantrum. I just cant do this any longer. I need time to think.
She zipped her bag and headed for the door. James blocked her.
You cant just walk out. Were a family.
What family, James? Your family is Mum and Lucy. Im a stranger here, and here too.
She slipped past him and out of the flat. He didnt follow.
Her mother met her at the doorstep, surprised.
Emily, love, whats happened? Why are you alone?
Can I stay with you for a while?
Of course, dear. Come in.
Her mum didnt pry. She just offered tea, talked about neighbours, work, the little things of everyday life. Emily listened, feeling the tension melt away.
Mom, how did you manage so many years with Dad? Emily asked suddenly.
Her mum thought a moment.
In marriage, respect matters most. Love can come and go, respect has to stay. Your dad always respected me, listened, defended me when needed.
And if he didnt?
Then it isnt a marriage, its torture. You shouldnt be a servant in your own home.
Emily nodded. Shed known it, but hearing it from her mother felt like a key turning.
James called the next day. She didnt answer. Later a text arrived: Emily, come home. Lets talk calmly. She ignored it.
A week passed. She went to work, spent evenings at her mums, sorting her feelings. The anger faded, replaced by exhaustion and the realization that things could never go back to the way they were.
James turned up on a Saturday, rang the doorbell. Her mum opened.
Can I speak with Emily, please?
Her mum called her in, then stepped back to the kitchen.
Emily and James sat opposite each other in the living room. He looked exhausted, unshaven, dark circles under his eyes.
Ive missed you, he said simply.
Ive missed you too, Emily admitted. But that doesnt change anything.
What do you want from me?
Just to see me. To hear me. To stand up for me when I need it. To be my husband, not my cook and cleaner.
James was silent, then nodded.
I get it. I was wrong. I thought staying neutral would keep the peace, but I left you to handle it alone.
No apologies needed. I need changes.
What exactly?
Emily breathed deeply.
I wont come to your parents every weekend anymore. Once a month, at most. And if your mum or Lucy say something hurtful, youll step in, not me.
Deal.
And Im done being quiet. Ill say what I think. If you dont like it, tell me now.
James managed a small smile.
Tell me, what do you think?
Seriously?
Very seriously. I like it when you get angry. Your eyes sparkle.
Emily laughed, the sound genuine.
Ill come home. But if it happens again, Im out for good.
It wont happen again, James promised.
They left together. The house was quiet, empty. Emily walked through the rooms, seeing them with fresh eyesher home, her family, her right to be respected.
A month later James really had changed. He asked her opinions more, stood up when Mum called demanding a weekend visit, and even laughed at herself when Lucy tried to make a joke about the family photo.
When the parents finally showed up after three weeks, Emily felt steadier, more confident. Lunch was relatively calm. Margaret tried to critique the stew a couple of times, but James steered the conversation elsewhere. Lucy was distant, but polite.
After lunch, while Emily was washing dishes, Lucy slipped into the kitchen.
Listen, I wanted to apologise, she began, unsure.
Emily turned, drying her hands on a towel.
For what?
For that photo comment. James scolded me later, said I was out of line.
You were out of line.
Lucy nodded.
Its just Im used to us being close, and suddenly youre here.
I didnt take your brother away. I just love him.
I know. Im selfish, wanted the old dynamic to stay.
Nothing stays the same forever. We grow, we get our own families.
Lucy gave a sad smile.
Youre right. Im sorry, truly.
I forgive you. Just dont do it again.
They went back to the living room. Margaret flipped through a magazine, James watched TV.
Mom, lets get a family picture, Lucy said suddenly.
Margaret set the magazine down.
Good idea.
Lucy grabbed her phone, switched to the camera.
Emily, stand here next to James. Mum, have a seat. Ill stand off to the side.
Emily moved over, James wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Lucy aimed the phone.
Smile! One, two, three!
Click. The photo was ready. Lucy checked the screen, nodded.
Looks great. Real family.
Emily looked at the picture. They actually did look like a family, and for the first time in ages she felt she belongednot as a servant, not as an outsider, but as a full member.
On the drive home she stared out the window, thinking about how much had shifted in a month. Shed learned to speak up, to defend herself. James had learned to listen. Even Lucy and Margaret seemed more careful.
What are you thinking about? James asked, glancing at her.
About how sometimes you have to walk away to be heard.
I heard you. I wont lose you again.
Emily smiled. There was still a lot of work ahead, but now they were truly together.
Later, back at home, over tea, James asked,
So, you really wont stay silent anymore?
Nope. Ready?
Ready. Show me.
And Emily laughed, a real, heartfelt laugh, because she finally believed she had the right to be herself, to have a voice, and a place not just in the kitchen but in every family photo.
