“What on earth is this? Where are you going? Whos making dinner?”
“Where are you rushing off to? Someone has to cook!” The man groaned, watching what Antoninano, *Antonia*was doing after yet another row with his mum.
Antonia glanced out the window. Gloomy clouds hung stubbornly in the sky, even though spring had supposedly arrived. Their little town in northern *Lithuania*no, *Yorkshire*rarely saw sunny days. Maybe thats why everyone who lived there always looked like theyd just bitten into a lemon.
Lately, Antonia had noticed shed stopped smiling altogether. The permanent frown on her forehead was tacking on an extra decade to her face.
“Mum! Im going out,” announced her daughter, *Eglė*no, *Emily*.
“Right,” Antonia muttered.
“What dyou mean, *right*? Give me some money.”
“Since when did fresh air cost money?” she sighed.
“Mum! Why dyou always ask questions?!” Emily huffed. “Come on, hurry up! Thats *it*?”
“Its enough for ice cream.”
“Cheapskate,” Emily shot back before slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.
*Unbelievable* Antonia shook her head, remembering the sweet little girl Emily had been before adolescence turned her into a human tornado.
“Toni, my stomachs growling! How much longer?” grumbled her husband, *Tom*not *Tomas* anymore.
“Feed yourself,” she said flatly, plonking a plate onto the table.
“Cant you bring it over?”
Antonia nearly dropped the pot. *Who does he think he is?*
“Foods in the kitchen, Tom. Take it or leave it.” She sat down alone.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom shuffled in.
“Its cold gross.”
“I left it in longer.”
“I *asked* you! Not a scrap of love or care in this house! You *know* Im watching the match!” He shoveled chicken into his mouth. “Tastes rubbish.”
Antonia rolled her eyes. Football turned Tom into a different personbetting, merch, overpriced ticketseven though hed never cared about sports in his youth.
Without sitting, he grabbed a can of lager, a bag of *crisps*, and stormed back to the telly. Antonia stayed behind, scrubbing dishes.
*Wasted effort. No one appreciates it.*
She was exhausted after her shift as a senior nurse at the hospital. Patients stormed in stressed and sick, dumping their problems on her. Then shed come home to *another* shiftfetch, carry, wash, tidy.
“Any more?” Tom yanked open the fridge. “Whys there none left?”
“You drank it all! Am *I* supposed to restock it?! Have some shame, Tom!” she snapped.
“Ooh, arent we posh now?” he sneered before slamming the door and stomping off to “replenish supplies” for the next match.
Antonia decided to sleepher next shift loomedbut she couldnt. Worry gnawed at her. Where was Emily? Who was she with? It was dark, and she still wasnt home. Calling was pointlessEmily would just erupt.
“You embarrass me in front of my friends! Stop calling!” shed scream. So Antonia stopped, reminding herself Emily was *technically* an adult now. Eighteen, jobless, and uninterested in studying. After finishing school, shed declared a *gap year to find herself*.
Just as Antonia dozed off, Toms cheers eruptedsomeone had scored. Then came loud match analysis with the neighbour whod invited himself over. Later, the neighbours girlfriend joined, and the trio *cheered*loudlyuntil Emily finally clattered in, rattled plates, and thudded off to bed. The second silence fell, the *cat*no, *Marmalade*yowled for food.
“Can *anyone* in this house feed the cat besides me?!” Furious, sleep-deprived, and nursing a migraine, Antonia stormed out. But Emily had headphones in, scrolling her phone, and Tom was snoring in front of the telly, a can still in hand.
*”Ive had it Ive *completely* had it!”* Antonia thought.
The next morning, her mother-in-law *Vera*not *Vera*, *Margaret*called.
“Antonia, dear, you *do* remember its planting season? And we need to sort the cottage.”
“I remember,” Antonia sighed.
“Then well go tomorrow.”
Her only day off was spent toiling under Margarets command.
“Youre sweeping wrong! Hold the broom properly!” Margaret barked from her perch on the bench.
“Im nearly fifty, Margaret. I can manage,” Antonia dared to snap.
“And Tom”
“Where *is* Tom? Why didnt *he* drive his mum? Why did *we* spend three hours on a bus? Its always *Tom this, Tom that*”
“He gets tired.”
“And I dont?!”
And then it began. Antonia instantly regretted speaking up. Margaret was a champion talkeralways right, never wrong. Her *rightness* just never extended to Antonia. Tom had been coddled his whole life, while Antonia was the glorified maid Margaret *tolerated*.
They rode home in separate bus sections. The next day, Margaret complained to Tom, and he *exploded*.
“How *dare* you speak to my mother like that?!” he growled. “If it wasnt for her”
“What?” Antonia crossed her arms. Shed hit her limit.
“Youd still be at that tiny clinic!” He played his trump cardMargaret had *helped* Antonia land the hospital job. Better pay, worse stress. Now she had grey hairs and regretted ever leaving the quiet clinic. “Where are you”
Tom froze.
What Antonia did next, he *never* saw coming.
