Did my mother really tell you Im a bad husband? Andrew stood in the middle of the kitchen, phone clenched in his hand, his cheeks flushed with anger.
Laura turned from the burner, where she was frying mince pies. A bead of oil slipped onto the linoleum and hissed.
What? What are you talking about?
My mum just called. She said she knows everything about us, that I dont appreciate you, that I behave like a child, that shes seen it all.
Andrew, I never said anything to my mother. We havent spoken in weeks.
Then how does she know about that fight we had over the fishing trip? I only told you about it yesterday!
Laura switched off the hob, wiped her hands on a towel, and felt her heart pound. She hadnt told anyone about the fishing incident. Except
I was texting Poppy, she said slowly. Only Poppy. In a private chat.
And now Poppys spilling it to my mother?
No way. Poppys my best friend; she would never
The phone rang. It was the motherinlaw. Laura glanced at Andrew; he nodded, as if to say, Answer it.
Hello, Mrs. Bennett.
Laura, I need to speak with you seriously. Can you come over today?
Whats happened?
Ill tell you in person. Its important. Very important.
Laura agreed, hung up, and felt her hands tremble. How could her motherinlaw have found the messages she sent to Poppy?
Ill drive over, she told Andrew. We need to sort this out.
Andrew gave a rueful nod. Theyd lived together five years, a relatively smooth marriage, but Mrs. Bennett had always been a thorn. Domineering and convinced she alone knew what was best for her son, she treated Laura like an obstacle. Laura tried to keep the peace, but occasionally snapped, confiding those moments to Poppy, a university mate who had become her confidante.
Poppy was the only person Laura could unload on about the motherinlaw, about her husband, about life itself. Theyd been friends for fifteen years, shared first romances, served as each others bridesmaids. Poppy knew everythingevery grievance, every petty annoyance.
Now, somehow, all that private chatter had landed on Mrs. Bennetts desk.
Laura dressed and drove to the suburban flat where the Bennett family liveda modest threebedroom flat in Croydon, the same building where Andrew had grown up. A widowed mother of ten years, shed devoted her life to her son and felt entitled to oversee his every move.
Mrs. Bennett opened the door, her expression stern and unyielding.
Come in. Do you want tea?
No, thank you. Mrs. Bennett, whats happened?
She led Laura into the living room and sank into her favourite armchair while Laura stood, uneasy.
Sit down, dont just stand there like a statue.
She perched on the edge of the sofa. Mrs. Bennett stared at her with a heavy, lingering gaze.
Youve never been honest with me, Laura. You smile, you nod, but behind my back you say all sorts of things.
I dont understand what you mean.
Look, the older woman thrust her phone forward. Read this.
The screen displayed the chat between Laura and Poppy. Laura recognized her own words, her own frustrations. She scrolled down, deeper and deeper. It was all there: complaints about the motherinlaws constant meddling, irritation at her tenaday calls, resentment over Lauras cooking being criticised.
Where did you get this? Laura whispered.
Poppy visited yesterday. She wanted to meet you, so we had tea. While we were looking at photos she accidentally showed me the messages. She said she wanted me to know the truth about how you really feel about me.
Laura felt the blood drain from her face. Poppy. Her best friend. Why?
Mrs. Bennett, this is private. Everyone has the right to vent to a friend. It doesnt mean I dont respect you.
Respect? Look at what you wrote! Im an old fool whos nagging you with my control. Youd rather I move to the countryside and stop interfering. You call me a mothers boy who cant stand up to me.
I was angry when I wrote those things. We all have moments of weakness.
Weakness? Look at the dozens of messages over the years! Youve hated me all this time and pretended to be sweet.
Laura stood, shaking.
I never hated you. I was just exhausted by your pressure and needed somewhere to unload.
Then unload it to the whole neighbourhood, the motherinlaw shot back, standing as well. Ive shown it to all my acquaintances. Let them see who you really are.
What?
You mocked me behind my back; now youll feel what thats like.
Laura snatched her bag and bolted for the stairs, tears blurring her vision. She tried the car, but the engine refused to turn over; her hands trembled so hard the key slipped from her grasp.
Poppy. How could she? Why?
Laura dialled her friends number. The line rang endlessly before Poppy finally answered.
Hey, Laura! How are you?
How could you?
What do you mean? Whats happened?
Dont play dumb! You showed my motherinlaw our private chat!
Poppy was silent for a beat.
Oh, that. Yeah, I I did. It just happened.
Just happened? You went to her on purpose!
I wanted to meet my husbands mother. I thought it would be harmless. I showed her some pictures from my phone and she saw the chat. I didnt mean to.
Stop lying! Why would you do that?
Poppy sighed.
Laura, Im tired of being your emotional punching bag. Fifteen years youve vented about everyoneparents, classmates, bosses, now my motherinlaw and your husband. Im fed up.
If you were fed up, you could have just said so! Why betray me like this?
Betray? I was just showing the truth. Mrs. Bennett has a right to know what I think of her.
Weve been friends for fifteen years!
We were, Laura. We were. But I cant keep listening to you whine and do nothing about it.
Poppy hung up. Laura sat in the car, the phones dark screen reflecting her shattered world. Her friend had betrayed her, her motherinlaw was now openly hostile, and Andrew looked distant, caught between his mother and his wife.
She finally managed to start the car and drove home. Andrew met her in the hallway.
Whats wrong?
Poppy showed her the messages. On purpose.
Why?
I dont know. She said she was tired of being my vent.
Andrew pulled her into his arms; she burst into sobs, pressing her head against his shoulder.
Itll be okay, he whispered. Well get through this.
Your mother showed the conversation to everyone. Now everyone knows what I wrote.
What exactly did you write?
Laura stepped back, looking at him.
Various things. That your mother drives me mad. That you sometimes act like a child. That its hard for me.
Andrew frowned.
So youve been complaining about me to a friend for years?
Not for years, just when its hard.
And now you think I want to hear it?
Laura went to the sofa, her head pounding. Andrew sat opposite her.
I want to know what youve said behind my back.
She hesitated, then spoke.
I wrote that youre too attached to your mother, that youre afraid to contradict her. That when she visits you become a different person.
Different how?
You start agreeing with her on everything, even when we had decided together. Remember the bedroom wallpaper? We chose a pattern, but she called it tasteless and you went along. We ended up with the walls she liked.
Andrew stayed silent.
Or the time I wanted to visit my parents for my fathers birthday, and your mum said that day was her birthday, so we had to be with her. You didnt even try to reschedule.
You cant move a birthday, he replied.
You could have celebrated on another day! My dads 60th birthday was important!
My mum is more important.
Laura stared at him.
See? You just said that. And now youre angry I wrote it down.
To your former friend, apparently.
Yes, former.
The room fell into a heavy silence as night deepened outside. The mince pies on the stove had long since hardened.
The phone rang again, an unknown number.
Hello?
Is this Laura? a womans voice said.
Yes, whos calling?
Im Tamara Clarke, a friend of Mrs. Bennett. She showed me your messages.
Laura closed her eyes. The words tumbled out.
And?
I just wanted to tell you that youre right. Mrs. Bennett is overbearing. Shes always meddling. Ive known her for thirty years; shes a nightmare. Youre not wrong to vent. Theres nothing immoral about that.
Thank you, Laura managed.
As for Poppy that was a low move, showing private messages. Id cut ties if I were you.
I wont.
Good. Take care.
Tamara hung up. Laura looked at Andrew.
Your mothers friend called. Said Im justified about her.
Andrew raised an eyebrow.
Tamara Clarke? Shes always been on my mums side.
Apparently even her friends see shes overstepping.
The phone kept ringing all eveningneighbors, acquaintances of Mrs. Bennett, distant relatives. Some condemned Laura, others supported her. One woman ranted, calling her ungrateful; another confessed shed endured the same motherinlaw oppression.
Turn it off, Andrew suggested. Well deal with this tomorrow.
Laura obeyed. They ate dinner in silence, then lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the days turmoil.
Later, Lauras mind drifted back to Poppyhow shed been there when Laura fell pregnant, how shed held her hand in the hospital. And now, the same friend had deliberately handed their private words to a stranger. Why?
Morning found Laura with swollen eyes and a throbbing head. Andrew was already at the table, coffee steaming.
Morning. How did you sleep?
Poorly.
Ive been thinking. Maybe we should meet Poppy and get some answers. Find out why she did it.
I have nothing to say to her.
But fifteen years of friendship dont just vanish.
She threw it away.
Andrew sipped his coffee, thoughtful.
I called my mum. Told her she was wrong to broadcast the messages.
What did she say?
That shed acted in anger, that she felt hurt by what Id written, that shed defended her dignity.
And?
She admitted shed overstepped and promised to apologise.
So you think I should have never written those things?
Laura snapped.
What did you just say?
I mean you should be more careful. Those private words eventually surface.
So Im to blame?
I didnt mean it like that.
Youre saying its my fault that my friend betrayed me, that my motherinlaw exposed me!
Im just saying you could have kept it private.
Laura stormed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, trying to steady herself. Her husband seemed to side with his mother, as always when her motherinlaw was involved.
A knock came at the door. Laura peered through the peepholePoppy stood there, eyes swollen.
Dont open, Andrew warned, moving toward the door.
Im not opening.
Laura, open! I need to talk! Poppy pounded.
Go away. I have nothing to say.
Please! I want to explain!
Its too late.
Poppys voice softened.
I thought if Mrs. Bennett saw how I really feel about her, shed back off. I didnt think it would wreck everything.
Laura opened the door. Poppy stood in the hallway, pale, tears glistening.
You really believed that would help?
I wanted to help. Youve been complaining for years; I was tired of being the crying cushion. I thought the truth would set you free.
People like Mrs. Bennett dont change. They only get worse when confronted.
I didnt consider that. Im sorry.
She showed the messages to everyone. The whole estate now knows our problems!
I never wanted this.
Andrew stepped forward.
Poppy, why did you tell Laura you were tired of being a venting pillow? Why did you cut off contact?
I was angry. Laura yelled at me, blamed me. I snapped.
But do you really think thats how I feel? Laura asked, voice trembling. That Im just a whiner?
Sometimes, yes. I get fed up. But that doesnt mean I dont value our friendship.
Laura looked at her, seeing the remorseful stare of a friend of fifteen years. Could all this be salvaged?
I cant talk now, Laura said. I need time.
How long? Poppy asked.
I dont know. A week? A month? Maybe never.
Laura
Leave, please.
Poppy nodded and left. Andrew wrapped his arms around Laura.
Im sorry for what I said in the kitchen. Youre not at fault. Its Poppy and my mother.
Thank you.
They stood there, clinging to each other in the hallway. Then Andrew spoke.
I need to apologise too. Ive always taken my mothers side. Im scared to disagree with her, afraid of a fight. Thats wrong. Youre my wife; I should protect you, not her.
Laura lifted her eyes.
Really?
I promise, from today on things will be different.
He drove to his mothers flat, returned two hours later, exhausted but hopeful.
We talked. I told her it was wrong to broadcast private chats. I asked her to respect our boundaries.
What did she say?
At first she shouted, then she cried, then she finally admitted shed gone too far. She said shed apologise.
Seriously?
I cant guarantee shell keep it, but I tried.
That night Mrs. Bennett called.
Laura, I acted hastily showing the messages. I was angry, hurt. Andrew explained that everyone deserves privacy.
Thank you for understanding.
Im still upset by what I read, but Id like us to move forward. Can we agree that Ill stay out of your affairs unless invited?
Laura swallowed her retort.
Lets try. Ill be more open with you, and youll try not to intrude.
Mrs. Bennett paused.
Agreed. Lets see how it goes.
The call ended. Laura looked at Andrew, a faint smile forming.
Looks like weve reached a truce.
Proud of you, he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
A week passed. Poppy sent daily apologies, begged for a meeting, swore shed never repeat the betrayal. Laura didnt reply; she needed space to sort her feelings.
She visited a therapist, a kind woman in her sixties with soft eyes.
You have the right not to forgive, the therapist said. But think about what holding onto this anger does to you. Forgiveness isnt for the offender; its for you, to let go.
How do I forgive?
Forgiveness isnt forgetting. Its accepting what happened and releasing the grip it has on you. You can forgive and still set new boundaries, or choose not to renew the friendship.
Laura reflected. The resentment was eating her from inside.
She wrote to Poppy, arranged to meet at a café.
Poppy arrived early, waiting at a table. When Laura entered, Poppy stood, but didnt approach. They sat opposite each other; a waitress placed menus, coffee arrived.
Thank you for meeting, Poppy began.
We need to talk, properly.
I meant to help. I thought if Mrs. Bennett understood how you felt, shed change. It was naïve, I know.
Naïve and cruel. You shattered my trust.
I know. Ill do anything to earn it back.
Did you ever really get tired of me? Or was it just a convenient excuse?
Poppy hesitated.
Sometimes, yes. I get weary. But thats normal, isnt it? Everyone gets fed up. It doesnt mean I dont care.
Then why didnt you tell me? I would have tried to listen.
I didnt want to hurt you. I thought keeping it inside would protect you.
Friendship also means honesty. If something bugs you, you must say it.
I understand now. I wont keep silent again.
Laura sipped her bitter coffee.
I dont know if we can be what we were. Trust is fragile.
Ill wait. As long as it takes.
Maybe we start fresh, not as best friends but as acquaintances. If it works, we can rebuild.
Poppy nodded.
ILaura smiled faintly, felt a tentative peace settle over the table, and stepped back into her life with cautious hope.
