Emily shifted the stack of dishes with a sigh. James, theres something. Mum needs a handshe cant clean the balcony windows herself, and we need to grab groceries for a week. Can you go today?
James slipped into the kitchen in his worn joggers and a crumpled tee, the lazy air of a Saturday morning clinging to him. He poured water into his glass, barely noticing Emily. She sat at the tiny table by the window, nursing a steaming mug, the morning light painting delicate patterns on the tablecloth while her thoughts drifted inward.
It wasnt the first time a request like this had landed on her lap. It started with simple favors: Emily, could you drop Mom some bread? Can you pop over with the meds? Then it grewregular trips across Manchester with heavy bags, deepcleaning at his mothers house, even small repairs that Mrs. Margaret insisted only a young, spry hand could manage. James rarely showed up for his own mother; work, fatigue, or simply not feeling like it always took precedence. You have the day off, hed say, and Emily would sigh, drive, wash, fix, and listen to his mothers endless complaints about health, prices, neighbours, and how poor James always gets the short end of the stick.
Emilys voice, calm but steelstrong, cut through the kitchen clatter. James, Ive already told you. Im your wife, not your mothers personal assistant, and certainly not a freeofcharge housekeeper. If Mrs. Margaret needs serious help, why dont you go yourself? You have the day off, remember? Or have you forgotten?
James blinked, caught offguard. Usually shed cave after a few more pleas.
Um I thought you he stammered, frowning. Its not hard! The womens workclean the windows, buy the food Youre better at that than I am.
Emilys lip curled, a smile that promised trouble.
Womens work, huh? she repeated, dripping sarcasm. So lugging fivekilogram bags of potatoes up to the seventh floor and scrubbing those high windows is now strictly a female duty? And youll stay home, conserving your energy, so you can collapse on the sofa later?
Tension crackled. James slammed his glass onto the counter, his face flushing.
Whats your problem? he snapped. Mums alone, shes old, its hard for her! Instead of helping youre throwing a fit!
A fit? Emily lifted an eyebrow. My refusal to be a slave is a fit? Listen carefully.
What else?
Im your wife, not a errand girl! If your mum needs help, youre the one who should go and do it! Shes your mother, James. If she truly struggles, its your duty as a son to assist, not to dump the burden on me. Im not asking you to help my mother; her issues are mine, and Ill handle them. So, love, grab the list, a rag, a bucket, and head to Mums. Use my gloves if you dont have yours. Ive got my own tasks. No more of these requests. Understand?
James stared at her as if she were an alien. The familiar hierarchy was collapsing. Emily had always yielded; now she was cold, decisive, and uncompromising.
This is disrespectful to my mother! he roared, stepping forward.
No, James. Its respect for yourself. Basic selfrespect. If you cant see that, its your problem.
She rose, walked past the table, and left the kitchen, leaving him alone amid the shafts of sunlight, the shattered comfort, and a sudden realization that life would no longer be so easy.
James trailed her into the living room, where she perched with a book as if on a throne. He halted in the doorway, fists clenched, fury burning his cheeks.
You just decided to back out? he hissed. You think you can ignore my pleas, my mothers needs? Is that how a wife should behave?
Emily lowered the book slowly.
Do you think its normal, James, to shift a sons responsibilities onto his wife? she asked evenly. You talk about your mother, yet forget shes yours. She has a sonan adult, healthy, with the day off. Why does he send you, his wife, instead of helping himself?
Because it never bothered anyone before! James shouted, lunging. You always helped, and everything was fine! What changed? Did you put on a crown or think youre special?
It changed because I cant keep doing it, Emily replied, her voice flat, void of anger, only deep, longstanding fatigue. Im tired of being the convenient helper for both of you, not a real person. My time, energy, and desires are ignored. You say you always agreed. Have you ever considered what it cost me? How many times I sacrificed my plans, my rest, even my health, just to please you and your mother?
James waved a dismissive hand, as if swatting a fly.
Here we go again, playing the martyr! Nobody forced you; you chose it. So it must have been comfortable for you!
Emily smiled bitterly. I chose it to keep peace in the family, hoping youd notice, that youd value what I do. Instead you treated it as a given, as if I were obliged to serve all your relatives. Funny, isnt it? My own mother never asked you to come and clean her windows or tidy the cottage, even when she struggled. She understands we have our own life. Your mother, however, treats me like a free resource, to be used on demand.
Dont compare them! James roared, his face contorted. My mum has always looked out for us! Now that she asks for help, you act selfishly? Thats just ego!
And wholl think of me if not me? Emily stared him straight in the eyes, fearless, unashamed. You? The man who never notices how exhausted I am after helping your mum? Or Mrs. Margaret, who after a cleanup starts bragging about the neighbours daughterinlaw baking pies daily? No, James. This chapter is over. I will no longer be the rug you step on, hiding your exploitation behind the words duty and help.
The room crackled. James felt his control slipping. The authority hed taken for granted was crumbling before his eyes. He had grown used to Emilys softness; now her icy stare and firm voice rattled his world.
Youre ungrateful! he gasped. We give you everything, and you you dont appreciate it! You dont care about our feelings!
Feelings, right? Emily laughed, a hollow sound. When was the last time you cared about mine, James? When I crawled home after a whole day at your mums and you just said, Alright, did you finish? Good job. My need for rest, for simple human attentionwas that ever a factor? No. Its far easier to have a wife who silently obeys every demand.
James paced like a cornered animal. His usual arsenal of accusations and blame fell flat, only fueling his agitation.
Fine, he panted finally. If you wont cooperate, Ill get my mother involved.
He fished out his phone, dialing swiftly. Emily sat calmly, a faint shadow of contempt on her face. She knew the movesummoning heavy artillery in the form of his mother, who always sided with him.
A disgruntled voice answered: James, why so early? Im just trying not to get worked up.
Mom, you wont believe whats happening! he barked, loud enough for Emily to hear. I asked Emily to go to you, clean the windows and buy groceries, like always, and she threw a fit! She says youre my mother, so I should go myself and not send a girl on errands! Can you imagine?
A heavy silence settled. Emily smirked inwardly, knowing the drama his mother loved.
What what? Mrs. Margaret finally drawled, feigning surprise. She said that about me?
Yes, Mum, exactly that! James blurted. She says youre my mother, not hers, and that I must work for you, while shes just a girl doing errands. Its nonsense! Im shocked!
Ah, James, the younger generation the mothers tone turned plaintive. I thought my daughterinlaw would be like family but she
Hand over the phone, Emily said evenly.
James looked at her, a grin of triumph on his face.
Scared? Going to apologise to Mum?
Hand it over, she repeated, her voice icy enough to make him shrink. He passed the handset, flipping to speaker.
Mrs. Margaret, good afternoon, Emily began, businesslike. I heard your conversation and want to set the record straight.
Sweetheart, whats going on with you and James? Hes so upset why are you treating him like this? And me were one family, right?
Mrs. Margaret, if you truly need helpphysically demanding tasks like washing windows and carrying groceriesthen you should ask your son, who has a day off, is healthy, and its his duty as a son to look after his mother. I am his wife, not your housekeeper.
Emily, dear, youre the lady of the house the mother started, then the irritation seeped in. James is a man; his responsibilities are different. He provides for the family
I work too, Mrs. Margaret, Emily cut in. My day off is just as valuable. Im not going to perform regular chores for your household for free. If its hard for you to keep tidy, you could hire a cleaning service. Thats a realistic solution.
A cleaning service?! Let strangers into the house? People will gossip! Theyll think the son and daughterinlaw have forgotten me!
I care little about what strangers think, Emily replied, her tone steely. I care about my right to a life and rest of my own. If James is ashamed to help his mother, thats his problem, not mine.
A tense pause stretched, only the ragged breathing of Mrs. Margaret audible.
So thats it? she finally hissed, her softness gone, replaced by cold anger. You think you can run this house? I wont let it go. If youre against the family, against order, against respect for elders, Ill come down myself and sort this out. Youll see how a proper woman behaves.
She slammed the line. James glowered, a victorious spark in his eyes: Well see how long you can hold that stance. Emily simply set the phone down, ready.
Forty minutes later, a frantic knock rattled the front door, as if the door itself were being torn off its hinges. James, who had been pacing nervously, lunged to answer. Emily remained seated, her composure unshaken though her heart hammered.
Mum! Finally! You have no idea what just happened! James shouted from the hallway, his voice a mix of outrage and righteous fury.
Mrs. Margaret stormed into the living room like a tempest, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing, a halftorn scarf slipping from her shoulder. Every fibre of her seemed ready for battle.
Come here, you girl! she lunged at Emily, who rose calmly to meet her. How dare you? How can you command my son? How dare you speak to me like that?
Good afternoon, Mrs. Margaret, Emily replied, maintaining a veneer of politeness that only inflamed the mother further. Glad youre here. Now we can discuss this peacefully, without misunderstanding.
Discuss?! the mother shrieked. I have nothing to discuss with a woman who insults her own mother! We took you into the family, and you turn out to be a snake! Where was James when you hurled these accusations?
He was right there, Mum! Mrs. Margaret backed him up. He says I should wash your windows myself! He says youre not obliged! Can you imagine?
I didnt say that, James, Emily said smoothly. I said the truth. You are his mother, so he bears the responsibility to care for you. If you think your wife should do it for you, then youre either lazy or simply not a man.
How dare you? the mother gasped, her voice cracking. My son works! Hes exhausted! And you sit at home doing nothing!
I work too, Mrs. Margaret, Emilys voice hardened. I earn at least as much as your son. My home isnt a free service for your family. Youve raised a man who cant make a decision without you. Im done being the perpetual helper and scapegoat in this twisted family play.
Her words landed like slaps. James was left mute, his usual tactics useless. His mother trembled with fury.
I’ve given him everything! Nights without sleep! And you come here to judge me?
Thats exactly why hes still a dependent child, Emily retorted. He should have grown up by now, but you keep him on a short leash. I will no longer be part of this circus.
James finally exploded. Enough! he bellowed, stepping forward. Youve crossed every line! My mother is a saint, and if you dont like it, you can leave! I choose my mother! Shes the only one I have, and there are plenty more like you!
Those words were the final blow. Emily glanced at him with a long, cold stare.
Fine, James, she said quietly, firmly. Youve made your choice. I know what youre worth now. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things, or just walk away to her house. It makes no difference to me. This nightmare ends here.
She turned away, signaling the conversations end. Behind her, the hysterical cries of mother and son continued, but Emily no longer heard them. She stared out the window at the dawning day. A massive weight lifted from her shoulders. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also freedom. Behind her, two people remained, each having lost more than a daughterinlaw or wifethey had lost any chance of a normal life, trapped forever in their toxic union.
