Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family portrait, snorts Imogen, lowering the camera.
Did you oversalt the borscht on purpose, or cant you cook at all? Margarets voice is soft, yet each word rings in Olivias ears.
I followed your recipe, Olivia replies, trying to stay calm. You gave it to me yourself.
Of course Im to blame, huffs Margaret, pushing her plate away with a theatrical flourish. Daniel, are you really going to eat that?
Daniel doesnt lift his head. He methodically finishes his soup as if nothing has happened. Imogen sits opposite him, smiling with that familiar smug grin that makes Olivias fists clench under the table.
Mother, why are you being so harsh? Imogen finally says. Maybe shes just used to a different style of cooking. Their family does things differently.
Olivia hears the condescending tone. It sounds like protection, but its really adding fuel to the fire. Imogen always does itsoftly, with a smile, but it cuts.
Daniel, say something, Olivia cant hold back.
Daniel looks up slowly.
What can I say? The soup is fine. Eat it and stop nitpicking.
See, Mum? Imogen reaches for a roll. Daniel likes it, so it must be alright.
Margaret presses her lips together but says nothing more. The lunch continues in a tense hush, broken only by the clink of cutlery and Imogens occasional remarks about work, a new car she plans to buy, and a upcoming holiday in Spain.
Olivia mechanically eats her portion. Three years. Three years of marriage to Daniel, three years of enduring Margarets constant critiques, Imogens poisonous jokes, and Daniels silence. She had hoped time would smooth things over, that she would become part of the family. The longer she stays, the clearer it becomes that she never will.
After lunch she clears the table, washes the dishes while the women linger in the living room sipping tea. Daniel disappears to his bedroom, citing work. Olivia catches fragments of their conversation from the kitchen.
She tries, but you can see she isnt one of us, Margaret says.
Come on, Mum, Daniel loves her. Theyre happy together, Imogen interjects.
Loves, loves Love will fade, the chores and problems will stay. Shes just a quiet mouseno backbone, no character.
Olivia squeezes the sponge tighter. A quiet mouse. Yes, perhaps thats how shes always been. As a child her parents taught her to stay unnoticed, to be modest and obedient. She never argued with teachers, endured snide remarks from university peers without protest. Now, at thirtytwo, she still swallows slights in silence.
Olivia, bring us some biscuits! Imogen calls from the lounge.
Olivia wipes her hands, retrieves a tin of biscuits from the cupboard, and carries it in. Margaret and Imogen settle on the sofa, scrolling through their phones.
Mum, look at this dress! Ill wear it to the party, Imogen shows a picture. Max will be thrilled.
Lovely, dear. Red suits you, Margaret replies.
Olivia places the tin on the coffee table, ready to leave, when Margaret stops her.
Olivia, when do you and Daniel plan on having children? Its been three years already.
The question lands like a slap. Olivia freezes.
We arent ready yet.
Not ready? Margaret frowns. At your age you should be. I want grandchildren; Im not getting any younger. Why do you keep dragging your feet?
Mum, maybe they have their own issues, Imogen suggests. A lot of couples do these days.
What issues? Margaret snaps. Daniels a healthy man. The problem must be you.
Olivia feels her cheeks flush. She wants to explain that the decision is joint, that theyre saving to buy their own flat, but the words stick.
Im going, she manages to say.
In the hallway Olivia leans against the wall, closing her eyes. Inside her chest everything boils. Weekends are a repeat: they visit Daniels parents, and she feels like a servantcooking, cleaning, enduring remarkswhile Daniel stays mute, always mute.
She slips into the bathroom, splashes cold water on her face. Hold on, she tells herself. Just a little longer and well be home. At home its easier; Daniel is different thereattentive, caring. Here he turns into a silent boy.
Back in the lounge Imogen pulls out a camera.
Mum, lets take a family photo! We havent had a decent one in ages.
Great idea! Daniel, come here! Margaret calls.
Daniel emerges from his room, yawning.
Whats happening?
Were doing a family picture.
Alright, lets do it.
Imogen starts arranging everyone. She seats Margaret in an armchair, places Daniel beside her.
Mum, you sit there; Ill stand on the other side of Daniel.
Olivia stands at the edge, unsure whether to join. Imogen fiddles with the camera, muttering to herself.
Imogen, may I also stand? Olivia asks timidly.
Imogen looks up, meets Olivias eyes, then smirks.
Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family picture, she says, lowering the camera.
Silence hangs. Olivia stands rooted, unable to process the remark. Margaret glances away as if she hadnt heard. Daniel remains quiet.
What? Olivia manages to choke out.
Just a joke, Imogen shrugs. Its a family photome, you, Daniel. Whats yours to do here?
Im Daniels wife.
So what? Wives come and go; families stay.
Daniel, Olivia turns to her husband. Did you hear what your sister just said?
Daniel finally looks up from his shoes.
Imogen, enough. Olivia will be in the picture too.
Fine, fine, dont be upset, Imogen waves her hand. I was only teasing. Stand over here, on the side.
Olivia doesnt listen any longer. Something snaps inside her. She turns and walks toward the hallway, jacket trembling on her arms.
Olivia, where are you going? Daniel calls after her.
Home.
But we agreed to stay for dinner.
I wont stay. Stay if you want, with your family.
Olivia, stop. You know Imogens a fool, right?
I know her. I also know your mother and you.
She leaves the flat without saying goodbye. Daniel doesnt follow. He stays with his mother and sisterhis real family.
Outside the sky is a blustery October evening. Olivia walks fast, almost runs, tears clouding her vision. The hurt is raw, the fear sharp, because she knows this cant continue forever.
She collapses onto the sofa at her mothers house, finally letting the tears flow. After a long sobbing she washes her face, brews tea, and sits by the window. The street lights flicker outside as night deepens. She stares out, wondering what to do next.
Later that night Daniel returns, slipping in quietly, remorseful.
Olivia, are you awake?
She stays silent.
Why did you react like that? Imogen was just being childish.
It wasnt a joke.
It was a poor joke, alright. Shes always saying something offcolor.
And you? Why do you always stay silent when they put you down?
Daniel sits beside her, hands covering his face.
What can I do? Its my mother, my sister. I cant argue with them over every little thing.
Over a little thing? Olivias voice trembles. You call it a little thing when they insult me?
No ones insulting you. My mother likes to control everything. Imogens just spoiled. They dont mean it.
Should I keep enduring?
Dont endure, speak up. Im not banning you from saying anything.
Olivia gives a bitter smile.
Speak up, and then youll be mad at me for upsetting your mother.
What does that have to do with anything?
Remember when I told your mother a month ago that we cant keep coming every weekend? You stopped talking to me for a week, called me ungrateful.
Daniel stays mute.
And when Imogen said she was surprised I married you, that I was a drab mouse with no looks or wit, you laughed and said I was good at housekeeping.
Enough, Olivia.
Its not the past, its now.
They sit in silence. A new anger builds inside Oliviareal, hot anger. Not at Imogens barbs, not at Margarets constant criticism, but at Daniel, who should protect her yet remains quiet.
The scariest part, she whispers, is that I thought you loved me, that I mattered to you. Turns out Im just convenient. I cook, I clean, I never argue. Im the useful wife.
Daniel flinches. What nonsense is that?
Its not nonsense. Its the truth. Your sister was right today. My place is the kitchenthats all Im needed for.
Enough! Daniel jumps up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Youre blowing this out of proportion.
Nothing? Olivias voice rises. They demean me and you stay silent! Thats nothing?
No ones humiliating you! Youre just too sensitive! You need a sense of humour!
Olivia stands, heads to the bedroom, pulls out a suitcase and begins packing. Her hands shake, but she forces herself to stay steady.
What are you doing? Daniel asks, standing in the doorway.
Im leaving. To my mothers.
Because of a stupid comment?
Not the comment. Because you dont see me. Because you dont hear me.
Olivia, lets talk normally, no screaming.
Im not screaming. I cant take this any longer. I need to think.
She zips the bag and walks toward the front door. Daniel blocks her path.
You cant just walk out. Were a family.
What family, Daniel? Your family is your mother and Imogen. Im an outsider here, and now, apparently, also here.
She sidesteps him and exits. He doesnt follow.
Her mother greets her at the doorstep, surprised.
Olivia dear, whats happened? Why are you alone?
Mum, can I stay with you for a while?
Of course, love. Come in.
Her mother doesnt pry. She always knows when Olivia needs quiet. They sit in the kitchen, sip tea, and chat about neighbours, work, the little things of daily life. Olivia listens, feeling herself gradually calm.
Mum, how did you manage so many years with Dad? Olivia asks suddenly.
Her mother pauses.
Respect, love. Love may come and go, but respect must stay. Your father always listened to me, considered my opinion, defended me when needed.
What if he didnt?
Then it isnt a family, its torment. You shouldnt be a servant in your own home.
Olivia nods. She already knew it, but hearing it from her mother matters.
Daniel calls the next day; she doesnt answer. He texts, Olivia, come home. Lets talk. She doesnt reply.
A week passes. Olivia works, returns to her mothers, tries to sort her feelings. Anger fades, fatigue remains, and the realization that things cant stay as they were settles in.
Daniel shows up on Saturday, rings the doorbell. Her mother opens.
May I speak with Olivia? she asks politely, then steps into the kitchen.
Olivia and Daniel sit opposite each other in the sitting room. Daniel looks exhausted; he hasnt shaved in days, dark circles under his eyes.
Ive missed you, he says simply.
Ive missed you too, Olivia admits. But that changes nothing.
What do you want from me?
To see me. To hear me. To stand up for me when its needed. To be your wife, not just the kitchen hand.
Daniel remains quiet, then nods.
I get it. I was wrong. I thought staying out of it would make things easier, that youd manage on your own.
But I didnt. I was silent, and you thought everything was fine.
Im sorry. Truly sorry.
I dont need apologies. I need change.
What exactly?
Olivia takes a deep breath.
I wont come to your parents every weekend. Once a month at most. And if your mother or sister insult me, you stop them. I shouldnt have to defend myself.
Deal.
And Im tired of being quiet. Ill speak my mind. If you dont like it, tell me now.
Daniel smiles for the first time in the conversation.
Tell me then. Im curious to see the real you when youre not silent.
Seriously?
Very seriously. I like it when youre angry; your eyes sparkle.
Olivia cant help but grin.
Ill come home, but if anything repeats, Ill leave for good.
I wont let that happen, Daniel says firmly. Promise.
They leave together. The house is empty and quiet. Olivia walks through each room as if seeing it anewher home, her family, her right to be respected.
A month later Daniel really changes. He asks for her opinion more often, defends her when Margaret calls, and even declines a weekend visit because they have plans. Margaret is annoyed but says nothing.
When they finally visit his parents three weeks later, the atmosphere is different. Olivia feels steadier, more confident. The lunch passes relatively smoothly; Margaret tries to critique the cooking a couple of times, but Daniel steers the conversation elsewhere. Imogen is distant, keeping her distance.
After lunch, while Olivia washes the dishes, Imogen comes into the kitchen.
I wanted to apologise for the photo comment, she says, unsure.
Olivia wipes her hands on a towel.
For what exactly?
For that line about the picture. Daniel scolded me later, said I was out of line.
You were out of line.
Imogen nods.
Its just hard to accept that Daniel now has another family. We were always close, and now youre here.
I didnt take your brother from you. I just love him.
I know. Im selfish; I wanted things to stay as they were.
Nothing stays the same forever. We grow, we change, we make our own families.
Imogen smiles sadly.
Youre right. Im sorry, truly.
I forgive you. Just dont do that again.
Imogen nods.
They return to the living room. Margaret flips through a magazine, Daniel watches TVan ordinary family scene.
Mom, lets finally get a family photo, Imogen says suddenly.
Margaret puts the magazine down.
Good idea.
Imogen pulls out her phone, switches to camera mode.
Olivia, come stand next to Daniel. Mum, sit in the armchair. Ill be on the edge.
Olivia steps forward, Daniel wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Imogen points the phone.
Smile! One, two, three!
The shutter clicks. Imogen checks the screen, nods.
Looks great. A real family.
Olivia looks at the picture. For the first time in ages she sees herself truly part of the familynot a servant, not a stranger, but a full member.
On the drive home she watches the road through the window, thinking about how much has shifted in just a month. She has learned to speak up, to protect herself. Daniel has learned to listen. Even Imogen and Margaret have become more cautious.
What are you thinking about? Daniel asks, glancing at her.
Sometimes you have to walk away to make people hear you.
I hear you now. I wont lose you again.
Olivia smiles. There is still work ahead, but now they are truly together.
Later, back at their kitchen, Daniel asks, Will you keep staying quiet?
No. Ready?
Ready.
Olivia bursts into genuine laughter, the first honest laugh shes had in years, because she finally believes she has the right to be herself, to have a voice, and a place not only in the kitchen but also in the family photo.
