Since youre not working, youll be cooking for us, declared my sisterinlaw the moment she stepped over the threshold.
James, I cant take this any longer! Are you even listening to me?
Emma stood in the middle of the living room, a crying baby Lily cradled in her arms, feeling the pressure building inside her. James lounged on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, pretending not to hear either the childs wail or her words.
What now? he replied without even looking up.
What now? Ive been up all night! Lily had a fever, I rocked her until dawn. And you slept soundly in the spare room, never even waking up!
I have a shift tomorrow. I need to get some rest.
And I dont? Im a robot, right? On my feet twentyfour hours a day!
James finally set his phone down and stared at his wife, irritation flashing in his eyes.
Emma, stop with the theatrics. Youre at home, you can rest during the day. Ive been working from morning till night to provide for us.
A lump rose in Emmas throat. It felt as if she were on holiday while the reality was endless dirty nappy changes and sleepless nights.
You know what, she said, gently rocking Lily, who finally fell silent. Go to sleep. I wont bother you any more.
James rose and headed to the bedroom without a glance at his daughter. Emma sank onto the sofa, pressing the warm little body to her chest. Lily was only eight months old, still unable to sleep through the night and demanding constant attention. Emma was exhausted to the point of feeling she had no strength left.
James and Emma had married three years earlier. Back then everything was different. He courted her, brought flowers, whispered compliments. Emma worked as an administrator at a medical centre, James was a manager at a construction firm. They lived modestly but happily. Then the pregnancy arrived.
At first James was thrilled. He talked about wanting a son and a happy family. But once Emma went on maternity leave, something changed. He helped less at home, spent more time at work or with his mates. When Lily was born, he withdrew completely.
Emma understood that a newborn is stressful for everyonesleepless nights, constant crying, fatigue. She hoped they would get through it together. Instead James built a wall between himself and them.
After putting Lily down in her crib, Emma walked into the kitchen. It was half past ten in the morning and she hadnt eaten yet. The sink was piled with yesterdays dirty dishes, a pot of porridge was burnt on the stove. She turned on the kettle and started washing plates on autopilot.
Her phone buzzed. A message from James: Mom and Claire are arriving tonight. Theyll stay for a week. Have something ready for dinner.
Emma read the text three times. Motherinlaw and sisterinlaw. For a whole week. And he hadnt even asked if it was convenient for her.
She replied: James, I have a baby. How am I supposed to look after them as well?
His instant reply: Dont worry, just be nice. Theyre family.
Emma tossed the phone onto the table. Margaret, her motherinlaw, had always been chilly, convinced that James could have found a better match. Claire, Jamess sister, was a successful businesswoman, proud of her single status, and had once said children were a burden on her career and freedom. Now they were both coming to stay for a week.
By evening Emma managed to tidy the flat, prepare a pot of stew and meatballs, and change Lily into clean clothes. She threw on the first thing she could finda pair of old jeans and a crumpled tee. Looking decent was the last thing on her mind.
The doorbell rang at seven. James opened it; he had just come home from work and flopped onto the sofa.
Mother! Claire! Come in!
Margaret swept into the hallway, eyeing everything with a critical stare. Behind her marched Claire in an expensive suit, high heels clicking, a large handbag in hand.
Hello, Emma said, drying her hands on a towel.
Hello, hello, Margaret replied dryly, not even taking off her shoes. James, help with the luggage.
Claire stopped in the doorway, looking Emma up and down.
Did you spend the whole day in pyjamas? At least dress decently when you have guests.
Emma felt her cheeks flush.
Sorry, Ive been with the baby, didnt have a chance.
Right, Claire tossed her shoes aside and moved into the sitting room where Margaret had already settled. Mum, I told you this place was a mess.
Emma stood in the hallway, unsure what to do. James busied himself with his mother and sister, asking how the journey was, never looking at Emma.
Will you be having dinner? she asked, peeking into the room.
Whats on the menu? Margaret asked, squinting at her.
Stew and meatballs.
Stew? Claire snorted. We were hoping for something lightsalad, steamed fish.
I didnt know
Just bring whatever you have, Margaret waved a hand. Dont waste a good meal.
Emma set the table. Margaret and Claire nitpicked every detail. The stew was too salty, the meatballs a bit dry, the bread stale. James ate in silence, never defending his wife.
Wheres the baby? Margaret asked when the plates were cleared.
Shes sleeping, Emma began clearing the dishes.
Wake her, I want to see my granddaughter.
She just fell asleep, better not disturb her. Shell be awake all night if we wake her.
I said wake her, Margarets voice hardened. Or Ill do it myself.
Emma walked to the nursery. Lily lay asleep, arms outstretched, perfectly peaceful. She hated to wake her, but she had no choice.
What a child, Claire muttered as Emma brought the sleepy, now slightly fussy Lily into the living room. Always crying.
Shes only eight months, Emma soothed, trying to calm her. She woke up scared.
Thats why I dont want children, Claire said, turning away. Just problems.
Margaret took Lily in her arms, turned her this way and that, inspecting her. She looks thin. Are you feeding her properly?
Yes, I am!
You must have no time for yourself. Look at this placenever spotless.
Emma clenched her fists. Shed spent the whole day cleaning, cooking, caring for the baby, and it still wasnt enough.
Maybe youd like to rest? James offered. You look exhausted.
Yes, please, Margaret replied, handing Lily back to Emma. Show us where well sleep.
Ive set up a pullout sofa in the lounge, Emma said. We only have two rooms, the other is the nursery.
A sofa? Claire raised an eyebrow. Seriously?
Claire, you can use the nursery, James suggested. Well move Lily to our bedroom for the night.
Emma wanted to protest but stayed silent. It was useless.
When the guests finally settled, Emma moved Lilys crib into the bedroom. The baby fussed after being woken, unable to settle. Emma rocked her, sang lullabies, but Lily kept crying.
Emma, do something! James tossed on the bed. I have work tomorrow!
Im trying!
Not trying enough!
Emma took Lily to the kitchen and shut the door. She sat on a stool, pressed the baby to her chest, and wept quietly.
The next morning a knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Emma, get up! Its nine oclock!
She opened her eyes. Lily slept beside the crib, James was still in bed. Emma got dressed, slipped on a dressing gown, and headed to the kitchen.
Margaret and Claire were there, looking disgruntled.
Weve been up for an hour and theres no breakfast, Claire announced. At least we managed to turn the kettle on ourselves.
Sorry, I didnt hear you get up, Emma said, moving to the stove. What would you like?
An omelette, but not in butterdry, please. I cant have fat, Margaret said.
Plain oatmeal, water only, no sugar. And proper coffee, not instant, Claire added.
Emma only had instant coffee, but she kept quiet and started preparing.
Listen, Claire lounged back, looking at Emma. Since youre home all day and not working, youll be cooking for us. Properly, not this stew nonsense. Well give you a list of what to buy and how to cook.
Emma froze, whisk in hand.
What?
Nothing special, Claire shrugged. Youre just sitting at home doing nothing. At least you could be useful.
Im with the baby!
The baby sleeps half the day. You have time.
Emma looked at Margaret, hoping for support, but Margaret merely nodded.
Claire is right. Were family. You should help my brothers family. Itll give you some practice, since youre not great at cooking.
Wheres James?
Off work early, Margaret said, sipping tea. By the way, your sugar is cheap. Use better next time.
Emma finished breakfast in oppressive silence. Her hands shook, but she kept her composure, placing the omelette and oatmeal on the table.
This is bland, Claire said, pushing the oatmeal away. Remake it.
I wont, Emma said quietly but firmly.
What? Claire stared.
I said I wont. Eat whats there or cook yourself, Emma replied.
You how dare you speak to us like that? Margaret slammed her cup on the saucer. Were guests in this house!
Were not guests who behave like you, Emma said, removing her apron. I have a job tooraising our child, keeping the home. Im not your servant.
Claire laughed. A job? Staying home with a baby isnt a job, love. Its nothing. Youre just leeching off my brother.
Enough, Emma turned and headed for the door.
Where are you going? The dishes arent done! Margaret called after her.
Emma didnt answer. She went to the bedroom, closed the door, and took out her phone. She texted James: Your mother and sister are being rude. Either speak to them or Im leaving to my parents.
He replied half an hour later: Dont make things up. Theyre just trying to help. Hang on for a week.
Hang on. Always hang on. Emma slammed the phone onto the bed.
Lily woke and began to cry. Emma lifted her, changed her, fed her, while the voices of Margaret and Claire drifted from the kitchensnippets like shameless, AndJames spoiled her, shouldve found someone better.
Emma took Lily for a walk, leaving the house without warning. She strolled through the park, pushing the pram past autumncoloured trees, trying to decide what to do next.
When she returned, the flat smelled of something cooking. Margaret was frying potatoes with mushrooms.
Oh, youre back, she said without turning. Where have you been?
Out.
Right. Since you dont want to cook, I made it myself. James loves mushrooms. You barely have anything in the fridge, do you?
Emma slipped past quietly, put Lily down to sleep, and sat on the bed, staring at the wall. How had she ended up like this?
She used to be confident, cheerful, with friends, a job, hobbies. Now she felt like a trapped mouse, scared to open her mouth at home.
That evening James returned in a good mood.
How was your day? he asked, kissing his mother on the cheek.
Fine, James. I made you the mushroom potatoes you like, Emma said.
Thanks, Mum! he replied, sitting down. Wheres Emma?
Shes in her room, probably sulking, Claire said, painting her nails on the sofa. We told her to help with breakfast, and she got upset.
Emma! James called. Come here!
Emma emerged from the bedroom.
Whats happened?
Mum says you were rude this morning.
Me? Rude?
Exactly, Margaret said, setting plates on the table. We asked you to make breakfast, and you snapped and left.
Thats not true! They said Id be cooking for them because I do nothing!
James frowned. Emma, whats really going on? Can you hold out a week?
James, do you hear what theyre saying?
I hear it. Its normal. Youre home, you can help.
Im not just at home! I have a child!
The baby sleeps half the day, Claire interjected. Stop using that as an excuse.
Emma stared at her husbands indifferent face as he calmly ate his potatoes. She realised he was never on her side.
Fine, she said, turning away. Im done.
She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, tears choking her but refusing to fall. She needed to think.
The next morning Emma rose before anyone else. She packed a bag for herself and Lilyclothes, documents, some cash she had saved. When Lily woke, Emma fed and dressed her, then called a taxi.
Margaret and Claire were still asleep when Emma, cradling Lily and a suitcase, slipped out of the flat. James was also asleep. No one saw her leave.
Emmas parents lived on the other side of town in a modest terraced house. Her mother opened the door in a dressing gown, halfasleep.
Emma? Whats happened?
Mum, can we stay with you for a while?
Her mother stepped aside without a word, letting her in. Her father came down, saw them, and immediately understood.
This bloke again? he asked, meaning James.
Dad, please, Emma sat down, exhausted. I just need a place to think.
Her mother took Lily into her arms.
Of course, love. Stay as long as you need.
James called an hour later.
Emma, where are you? Mum says youre not home!
Im at my parents.
What? Come back right now!
No.
What do you mean no? Youre my wife, your place is here!
James, Im tired. Tired of you, of your mother, of your sister. I need time to think.
What to think about? Emma, stop making a drama! They asked you to cook, so what?
They didnt askthey demanded, as if I were a servant. And you took their side.
Im not taking anyones side! I just want peace at home!
Its at my expensesilence, endurance, cooking, cleaningwhile they do whatever they like.
James fell silent.
When will you be back?
I dont know. Maybe never.
Are you serious?
Very serious. Im done being nobody in my own family.
She put the phone down. Her hands trembled, her heart pounded, but for the first time in months she felt she had done the right thing.
Her mother brought tea and sat beside her.
Tell me.
Emma recounted the months of Jamess distance after Lilys birth, the endless fatigue, the lack of help, the arrival of Margaret and Claire, their rudeness. Her mother listened, shaking her head.
Why did you stay silent? her mother asked.
I thought I could manage, that it was temporary.
Nothing ever changes on its own. You have to act. You left, and thats what matters.
Her father, reading the newspaper, looked up. Youre an adult, you decide. Just know were with you, whatever happens.
Emma felt a warmth spread through her. Acceptance, not blame, just support.
James kept calling throughout the day. Emma didnt answer. He texted later: Your mum and Claire were rude. Im sorry.
A few days later Margaret sent a message: Emma, Im disappointed. I thought youd be a proper wife and mother. Youve turned out selfish.
Emma deleted it without replying.
At dinner, her parents didnt pry. Her mother fed Lily, bathed her, tucked her in. Emma sat in the kitchen drinking tea, feeling the tension melt away.
Love, her mother said, pouring another cup, when I married your father, his mother thought I wasnt good enough for her son.
What did you do?
At first I tried to please themcooking, cleaning, smiling. Then I realised it was futile. Some people will never be satisfied. So I stopped trying to be what they wanted and just be myself. They eventually respected me because I stood my ground.
Did your father stand with you?
Always. He understood one simple truth: family is you and me. Parents are separate. When he had to choose, he chose me.
Emma nodded. James had never become her real family. For him, family meant his mother and sister. She understood now why she felt trapped.
That night Lily slept soundly. Her mother laid a blanket over the old bedroom where Emmas own childhood bed still stood, with faded posters from university days. Emma lay in the dark, pondering the future.
Could she go back to James? Would he change? Or would life stay the same?
The next morning Claire called unexpectedly.
Emma, this is ridiculous. Come home.
No.
Weve already left, if that bothers you. Weve got a flat for the rest of the stay. Happy?
Its not about the flat, Emma replied.
What then? Upset?
No, I just realised I dont want to be a servant. I dont want to be ignored while Im raising our child.
Claire was silent.
Fine, maybe we overstepped. But you could be more lively.
Goodbye, Claire.
Emma hung up, refusing any more lectures.
Three days passed. Emma helped her parents with chores, walked Lily, slept well. For the first time in months she felt rested. Her parents played with Lily in the evenings, giving her the support shed missed at home.
James turned up on the fourth day, knocking on her parents door. Their father opened, looking at his son-inlaw with little enthusiasm.
Hello, Mr. Bennett. May I speak to Emma?
Ask her yourself.
Emma emerged into the hallway. James looked worn, eyes red as if he hadnt slept.
Hi, he tried to smile. Can we talk?
Speak.
NotShe finally chose herself and Lily, walking away with her head held high, knowing that true partnership begins with mutual respect, not endurance.
