Emma, listen. Mum needs help: the balcony windows have to be washedshe cant do it herself. And weve got a proper grocery list for the week. Can you swing by today?
James slipped into the kitchen in his worn joggers and a crumpled tee, the very picture of a lazy Sunday. He padded over to the tap, filled his glass, barely noticing Emma. She was perched at the tiny table by the window, nursing a mug of coffee. Sunlight danced across the cheap tablecloth in a lazy pattern, but her eyes were elsewhere, hidden deep inside.
It wasnt the first time this had come up. It began with harmless errands: Emma, could you drop Mum some bread? Can you pop over with her pills? Soon it grew into regular trips across town with heavy bags, deepcleaning sessions at her motherinlaws house, and even little repairs that Margaret insisted only someone young and spry could handle. James never seemed to show up for his own mother. He always had something elsetiredness, a vague I dont feel like it. Youre free today, hed say, and Emma would sigh, load the car, wash, fix, and endure Mums endless complaints about health, prices, neighbours, and the fact that poor Jamie got stuck with it.
Emmas voice was calm, but a steelhard certainty lay underneath, enough to make James turn his head.
James, she said, Ive told you this before. Im your wife, not a personal assistant for your mum, and certainly not a freeofcharge housekeeper. If Margaret really needs helpespecially something as serious as thiswhy dont you go yourself? Its your day off, too. Have you forgotten?
James blinked, flustered. Usually these talks ended with Emma relenting after a few more pleas.
Uh I thought you he stammered, brow furrowing. Its not that hard! The womens workwashing windows, buying groceries Youre better at it than I am.
Emmas lips twisted, a smile that promised trouble.
Womens work, huh? she snapped, sarcasm thick. So lugging fivekilogram bags of potatoes up to the seventh floor, scrubbing grime from windows, is now exclusively a womans duty? And youll stay home, conserving your energy for a cosy couch evening?
The tension in the kitchen rose. James slammed his glass onto the counter, his face flushing.
Whats your problem? he growled. Mums alone, shes old, its hard for her! Instead of helping, you make a scene!
Scene? Emma raised an eyebrow. So my refusal to be a slave is a scene? Listen up.
What else?
Im your wife, not your errandgirl! If your mum needs help, you owe it to her as a son to pitch in. Or do you think a son should dump everything on his wife? Im not asking you to help my motherthats my business, Ill handle it. So, love, grab the list, a cloth, a bucket, and head to Mums. Use my gloves if you have none. Ill tend to my own tasks. No more of these requests are welcome. Got it?
James stared at her as if she were an alien. The familiar power dynamic was crumbling. Emma never gave in. Now she was cold, decisive, and there was no wiggle room.
This is disrespectful to my mother! he shouted, stepping forward.
No, James. Its respect for yourself. Plain selfrespect. If you cant see that, its your problem.
She rose, walked around the table, and left the kitchen, leaving him alone in the sunspattered room, the comfort of the morning shattered, a sudden thought dawning: the world was no longer a safe haven.
James refused to back down. He followed her into the living room where Emma had plonked herself on the sofa with a book. He halted in the doorway, fists clenched, anger flaring.
You just decided you can walk away? he snapped. Ignore my pleas, my mothers needs? Is that how a wife behaves?
Emma slowly closed the book.
Do you think its normal, James, to dump a sons duties onto his wife? she asked, voice steady. You talk about Mum, yet you forget shes your mother. She has a sonhealthy, with a day off. Why does he send you instead of helping himself, while you plan a lazy day on the sofa?
Because it never bothered anyone before! James erupted, lunging forward. You always helped, and everything was fine! What changed? Did you get a crown or think youre special?
It changed because I cant keep doing it, Emma replied, her tone void of anger, only deepseated fatigue. Im tired of being the convenient helper for both of you, not a real person. Im exhausted when my time, energy, and wishes are ignored. You say you always agree. Have you ever considered what that costs me? How many times have I sacrificed my plans, my rest, even my health just to please you and Mum?
James sneered, brushing her off like a fly.
Here we go again with the martyr act! No one forced you. You chose it. So it must have been comfortable for you!
Chosen because I wanted peace in this family, Emma said bitterly. Because I hoped youd notice, appreciate what I do. Instead you took it for granted, as if I were obliged to serve all your relatives. Funny, isnt it? My own mother never asked you to come over and wash her windows or tidy the garden, even when she needed help. She understands we have our own lives. Your mother, though, treats me like a free resource she can tap at will.
Dont compare them! James roared, face twisted. My mum has always looked out for us! And now, when she asks for help, you act selfish! Its just selfishness!
Whos going to think of me if I dont? Emma stared him straight in the eye, unflinching. You? The man who never notices how I look after your mother? Or Margaret, who after a cleanup starts bragging about the neighbours daughterinlaw baking pies daily? No, James. This chapter ends. I will no longer be the rug everyone steps on, hiding exploitation behind talk of duty and help.
The room crackled with rising tension. James felt his control slipping. The authority hed taken for granted was crumbling before his eyes. Hed grown used to Emmas softness, but now this cold, firm woman was pulling him off balance.
Youre ungrateful! he spat. Were here for you, and you you dont value anything! You dont care about our feelings!
Feelings, right? Emma laughed, a hollow sound. When was the last time you actually asked about mine, James? When I shuffled home after a full day at Mums and you only said, Alright. Done? Good job. My needs? A simple rest, a bit of human attention? Never. Its easier to have a wife who silently does everything you demand.
James paced like a caged animal. His usual tactics of blame and accusation fell flat, only fueling his fury.
Fine, he finally coughed, breathing heavily. If you wont cooperate, Ill do it my way. Youll hear from my mother soon enough.
He fished out his phone and dialed. Emma sat composed, a faint trace of contempt on her face. She knew this movecalling in the heavy artillery of the mother.
A curt voice answered after a few rings.
James, love, why so early? Im just trying not to worry myself.
Mum, you wont believe whats happening! he shouted, hoping Emma could hear every word. I asked Emma to go to you, clean the windows, get the groceries, as usual. Shes thrown a fit! She says youre my mother, I should do it myself, not send her as a runner! Can you imagine?
Silence hung thick. Emma smirked inwardly, aware of the drama her mother loved.
What what did she say about me? Margaret finally replied, feigning surprise.
Yes, Mum, exactly that! James sputtered. She says youre my mother, not hers, and I should work for you. Its nonsense! Im shocked!
Ah, James, the youth Margaret sighed melodramatically. I thought my daughterinlaw would be like family but she isnt
Hand over the phone, Emma said evenly.
James, thinking hed won, held out the handset.
Are you scared? Going to apologise to Mum? she asked, her voice icecold. He hesitated, then passed the phone, flipping it to speaker.
Hello, Margaret, Emma began, businesslike. I heard your conversation and Id like to set the record straight.
Sweetheart, whats going on with you and James? He sounds upset why are you treating me like this? Were one family, arent we?
Margaret, if you truly need helpespecially something as physically demanding as washing windows and carrying groceriesyou should ask your son, Emma said firmly. Hes off today, healthy, and its his duty as a son to look after his mother. Im his wife, not your housekeeper.
Emma, dear, youre the one who runs the house Margaret started, irritation creeping in. James is a man, he has other responsibilities. He provides for the family
I work too, Margaret, Emma cut in. My day off is just as valuable. I wont continue to do regular chores for your family for free. If you need a clean house, you could hire a cleaning servicethats a real solution.
A cleaning service?! Margaret exclaimed. Let strangers into the home? People will think Im a burden! Theyll say my son and daughterinlaw have abandoned me!
Im not worried about what strangers think, Emma replied, unwavering. I care about my right to a life and rest. If James is embarrassed to help his mother, thats his issue, not mine.
An uneasy silence settled, broken only by Margarets laboured breathing.
So thats it? Margaret finally hissed, her tone stripped of any former tenderness, replaced by cold anger. You think you can dictate who runs this house? Fine, Emma Ill come over and sort this out myself. If youre against family, against order, against respect for elders, Ill deal with it.
With a sharp click she hung up. James shot a triumphant glance at Emma, as if daring her to crumble. She simply placed the phone on the table, eyes steady, ready.
Forty minutes later a frantic knock rattled the door, as if the very frame might be ripped off its hinges. James, who had been pacing like a caged tiger, lunged to answer. Emma stayed seated, the chair barely moving, but her resolve was iron.
Mum! Finally! You have no idea what just happened! James roared from the hallway, righteous fury blazing.
Margaret stormed in like a gale, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering, halftucked scarf sliding off her shoulder. Every fibre of her seemed primed for battle.
Come here, girl! she lunged at Emma, who rose calmly to meet her. How dare you tell my son what to do? How dare you speak to me like that?
Good afternoon, Margaret, Emma replied, polite veneer intact, which only further inflamed the older woman. Glad you could make it. Now we can talk calmly, without misunderstandings.
Talk? Margaret shrieked. I have nothing to discuss with a woman who insults her husbands mother! We took you into the family, and you turn out to be a snake! Where was James when you were spouting this?
He was right there, Mum! Margaret shouted, backing James. He says I should clean my own windows! He says youre not obliged!
I didnt say anything, James, Emma said evenly. I said the truth. You are his mother, so he is responsible for you. If you think your wife should do it for you, either youre lazy or youre not a man at all.
How dare you! Margaret sputtered. My son works! Hes exhausted! And you sit at home doing nothing!
I work too, Margaret, Emmas voice hardened. I earn as much as your son. My home isnt a free service for your family. You raised a man who cant make a decision without you. Im done being the perpetual helper and scapegoat in this circus.
The words landed like blows. James was speechless, the room trembling with his mothers fury.
I gave him everything! Nights without sleep! And you turn up with a dish and judge me! Margaret wailed.
Thats why hes still a dependent child, Emma retorted. Youve kept him on a short leash. I will no longer be a part of that system.
James finally erupted.
Enough! he shouted, stepping forward. Youve crossed every line! My mother is sacred. If you dont like it, you can leave! I choose my mother! Shes the only one I have, and there are plenty like you out there!
The words landed as the final hammer. Emma stared at him, cold and unflinching.
Fine, James, she said softly, but firmly. Youve made your choice. I know now what youre worth. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things, or just go back to her. Its all the same to me. This nightmare ends here.
She turned away, signaling the end of the conversation. Behind her, Margarets hysterical cries and Jamess angry shouts faded into the background. Emma looked out the window at the dawning day. A massive weight lifted from her shoulders. The future was uncertain, but freedom lay ahead. The two men left behind had lost more than a daughterinlaw or a wifetheyd lost any chance of a normal life, forever trapped in their own toxic knot.
