Emma froze by the fridge, a bag of discount sausage in each hand. No greeting, no kiss David hadnt even bothered to plant one on the way in from work.
Good evening, love, she managed, trying to keep her voice steady. I grabbed the one on sale. Moneys a bit tight these days.
Tight? David raised his voice. Were scraping the bottom of the barrel, you know! And youre splurging on nonsense!
What nonsense? Emma felt a sting of hurt rise. Im only buying the essentials!
David waved his hand and stalked off to the bedroom. Emma stood in the kitchen, clutching the bags. Theyd been married eight years, and for the last three months the arguments had started the cooking, the place for the keys, the amount she spent. Hed never been so nitpicky before.
She began arranging the groceries on the shelves, hands trembling. She wanted to cry but held it back; Lily, their nineyearold, would be home from school any minute and shouldnt see Mum in tears.
Dinner was eaten in silence. Lily, a clever little thing, sensed the tension and kept to herself, shovelling soup into her bowl before asking to do her homework.
Off you go, sunshine, Emma said, planting a quick kiss on Lilys top of the head.
When Lily disappeared, David finally spoke.
I need to pop over to Mums at the weekend. Shes not feeling well.
Alright, Emma nodded. Are you going together?
No, Im going alone. You stay home, theres plenty to do.
Emma wanted to argue but kept quiet. Over the months shed learned to swallow it. Once theyd talked through everything, argued, made up. Now a wall seemed to have risen between them.
Saturday morning David left early. Emma tackled the usual chores laundry, cleaning, cooking lunch the same routine that had never felt this heavy. Anxiety gnawed at her, refusing to be brushed aside.
Lily played in her room while Emma tidied the bedroom. She opened a window for fresh air and heard voices. Neighbours, perhaps, on their balcony. She was about to shut the window when she recognised Davids voice.
He was standing on the balcony of his mothers flat not a neighbours, but the flat right above theirs. Margaret, his mother, lived in the same block, a floor above. Emma had once liked the proximity, thought it convenient. Now she wasnt so sure.
Mum, I cant take this any longer, David said, his tone plaintive, nothing like the way he spoke at home.
Son, you must be firm, Margaret replied. A wife needs to know her place.
Emma froze. She knew she shouldnt be eavesdropping, yet she couldnt turn away from the window.
She doesnt understand a thing, David continued. I tell her one thing, she does another.
Exactly, Margaret interjected. Youre too soft with her. She needs a firm hand, an iron grip. Ive always said that.
But I cant keep shouting at her.
Then be stricter. Let her feel youre the head of the house. Otherwise shell go soft.
A shiver ran down Emmas spine. Go soft? Shed been working from dawn till dusk, cooking, cleaning, raising Lily, and fitting in a parttime job at the local library just to keep the bills paid. Soft?
Im trying, Mum, David sighed. But sometimes I feel sorry for her.
Pity isnt a virtue, Margaret snapped. Youre the man, the head of the family. If you stay gentle, shell sit on your neck. All women are like that.
Not all
All of them! I raised you right, youre kind and considerate, but that softness is a weakness. You need to keep your wife in check.
Emma stepped back from the window, her legs wobbling. She sank onto the bed, the noise in her head like a vacuum cleaner on full blast.
So that was the crux David hadnt changed overnight. Margaret had been steering him. Emma recalled a visit four months earlier when Margaret stayed with them for a week. After that, David became a different man.
She remembered the oddities of recent months his sudden trips to his mother, the chill that followed each visit, the petty criticisms that hadnt bothered him before.
Mom, are you crying? Lily asked, peeking in with a frightened face.
Emma didnt notice the tears well up until they rolled down her cheeks. She dabbed them quickly.
No, love, just my eyes are itchy. Probably dust, she said.
Really?
Really, Emma forced a smile. Go on, play. Ill have lunch ready soon.
When Lily left, Emma sat on the bed again. What now? Talk to David? Admit shed been listening? That would spark a fight; hed accuse her of spying and drift further away. Keep quiet? How could she live knowing his mother was manipulating him?
The rest of the day drifted like fog. She cooked lunch mechanically, tasting nothing. She chatted with Lily, but the words sounded distant.
David returned in the evening, tossed his keys on the hall table.
Is dinner ready? he asked, skipping the greeting.
Yes, just heating it up.
She set the pan on the hob. Her hands moved on autopilot while Margarets words echoed: keep her in iron gloves, gone soft, pity isnt a helper.
Something wrong? David asked, sitting down. Youre not yourself.
Fine, Emma replied, plating his food. Just tired.
Ah, there we go again, he grimaced. Always tired. What do you do all day, just sit at home?
I dont sit at home, she whispered. I work at the library.
Library, huh? Half a job, pocketchange.
At least I bring something in. Didnt you ever forbid me?
No, I just dont see the point. Better if you keep the house in order.
Emma clenched her teeth, reminding herself not to let the argument flare, not in front of Lily.
That night, after Lily was asleep, Emma lingered in the kitchen with a cooling cup of tea while David watched TV in the living room. They were strangers sharing a flat.
She thought back to their first meeting both twentythree, Emma a shop assistant in a bookshop, David buying a present for a friend. Theyd chatted, gone to a café, then dates, walks, laughter. Hed been attentive, gentle, caring.
Even then, Margaret had hinted that Emma wasnt good enough a girl from a modest background, no university degree. David had brushed it off, saying he loved Emma and that was enough.
Theyd married despite his mothers disapproval, Lily was born, and the early years were hard but happy. Theyd tackled sleepless nights, child fevers, money woes. David had been a rock.
Then Margaret started visiting more often, calling David several times a day, inviting him over. He began to spend every free moment with her.
The next day Emma decided to speak to Margaret not a showdown, just a chat, woman to woman.
She knocked on Margarets door. Margaret opened, a flicker of surprise on her face.
Oh, its you. Come in, she said, stepping aside.
The flat was tidy but dated, lace doilies everywhere, photographs of David at various ages on the walls. No pictures of Emma or Lily.
Tea? Margaret offered.
No, thanks. Ill be brief.
They sat at the kitchen table. Margaret watched her, waiting.
I wanted to talk about David, Emma began. Youve probably noticed weve been having a rough patch.
Margaret nodded. Hes told me.
Exactly. Id like to ask if you could ease off the meddling in our relationship, Emma said.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. Meddling? Hes my son. I have every right to be interested in his life.
Interest is fine, but steering him against me isnt.
What do you mean? Margarets tone grew colder.
I heard your conversation on the balcony yesterday.
Silence hung. Margarets face went pale, then flushed.
You were eavesdropping?
I didnt mean to. I was just airing the room and heard you say I should be kept in iron gloves.
And what of it? Margaret snapped. I was speaking the truth. Youre letting yourself go soft, just as I warned.
I work from sunrise to sunset! I look after the family, raise Lily, and still manage a parttime job at the library. Thats not soft.
Yes? Then why is the house always a mess? Why is David so gaunt? Why cant you cook properly? And that library job a womans place is the kitchen.
We dont live in the 1950s!
Thats why families fall apart today. Women want careers, men feel threatened. It leads to miserable husbands and neglected children.
Lily isnt neglected! I spend all my time with her!
Please, Ive seen how you rush around, looking frazzled. A child needs a calm mother.
Emma realised the conversation was at a dead end. She stood.
Fine. Know this: I wont give up. This is my family and Ill fight for it, she said.
Oh, how fierce youre getting! Margaret chuckled. Dont forget David is my son. Hell always listen to me, not to you.
Emma left, tears finally slipping down. She only let them run once she was back in her own flat, collapsing onto the kitchen floor and weeping until she was spent.
That evening David came home, looking grim.
You were at your mothers? he asked.
Yes.
Why?
I wanted to talk.
He sighed. She called, said you were rude to her.
I didnt shout! I just asked her not to interfere.
Shes just giving advice.
David, cant you see whats happening? Shes turning you against me!
Dont be silly. Mum just wants me happy.
Are you happy? Emma asked, meeting his eyes. Be honest.
David hesitated, then said, Im exhausted from the constant nagging, the tears, the arguments.
Then lets start over, like we used to, she urged.
It cant be like before, he muttered, walking away.
For the first time in years Emma considered that maybe they shouldnt stay together.
That night she lay awake, the ceiling staring back. David slept beside her, turned away toward the wall, an iceberg between them.
Morning found David already gone to work without a goodbye. Emma drove Lily to school, then headed to the library.
Her boss, Mrs. Harper, immediately sensed something was off.
Whats happened? she asked in the staffroom.
Emma tried to keep it together, but the words tumbled out the eavesdropped balcony chat, Margarets visits, Davids shift.
Mrs. Harper listened, then said, Men are often swayed by their mothers. Your David is a classic mumboy. Hell need a proper wakeup call.
What should I do? Emma asked.
First, dont surrender. Second, remind him of who you were to each other. Third, think about yourself. Are you ready to spend a lifetime fighting someone who isnt fighting for you?
Those words lodged in Emmas mind. She spent the day replaying how theyd met, the first flowers, the laughter, the day David held her hand in the maternity ward. She remembered how hed once said, Youre my everything.
She realised that somewhere under that icy exterior was the David shed fallen for. She just needed to reach him.
That evening she cooked his favourite crispy chips with mushrooms. The table was set, candles lit.
David walked in, stopped at the doorway, eyes widening.
Whats this? he asked.
Dinner, Emma smiled. Shall we eat together like we used to?
He sat, a little unsure. She served him a portion, poured tea.
Remember our first holiday to the lake? You tried to prove you could swim and nearly drowned, she teased.
He cracked a grin. And you lectured me for an hour after.
She laughed. I was scared youd be lost.
They talked about the past, a few genuine smiles broke through. Then his phone rang.
Thats Mum, he said, stepping out.
Emma heard fragments: Are you okay? I understand
He returned, packed his bag. I have to go to Mums. Shes not feeling well.
Its already evening, she protested.
Its urgent, he said, and left without finishing his meal.
Emma watched the empty chair, tears slipping onto the nowcold chips, but she didnt wipe them away.
Lily appeared in the doorway. Mum, why are you crying?
Just because, love. Go to bed, Emma replied.
Did you argue with Daddy?
No, everythings fine.
Lily, ever perceptive, hugged her. Dont cry. I love you.
I love you too, Emma whispered, clutching her daughter.
Days turned into weeks of the same pattern Davids trips to his mother, short, strained conversations at home. Emma realised the situation couldnt go on.
She typed a long message to David, explaining she loved him but couldnt live under constant tension, that his mother was wrecking their family and something had to change or theyd lose each other.
He read it, didnt reply. That night he came home, looking sullen.
I read it, he said. Youre dramatising things.
Drama? We dont even talk properly! You pick fights over everything! Were strangers now.
Youre the one who wont change! he snapped. Mums right, youre stubborn and willful.
Youre not listening to me! She wants to destroy our marriage!
Your mum only wants whats best for us! he retorted.
Then why do I become a different person after every chat with her?
David fell silent, staring at her.
Maybe Im changing. Maybe Mum is showing me what Ive missed your mess, your cooking, your constant complaints, he said.
Emma felt something break inside. Alright, then perhaps you should look for the perfect wife?
David turned pale. What are you on about?
Im tired, David. Im tired of fighting, proving, apologising. If Im that bad, why am I still here?
He muttered, Dont be foolish.
Its not foolish, its reality, Emma said, standing. Think about it. Im going to bed.
She retreated to the bedroom, slammed the door, and the weight of years lifted from her shoulders. She finally said what shed been holding in.
The next morning David left for work without a word. Emma drove Lily to school, then visited her old friend Sue.
Sue, look at you! What happened to you? Sue gasped, opening the door. You look like youve been through a war.
Emma poured out everything again. Sue listened, shaking her head.
You need to give him a proper shove, Sue said finally. Hes used to you being the everpresent, everpatient one. He needs to feel the gap. Go away for a week, stay with your parents. Let him see how it is when he has to cook, clean, look after Lily alone. Hell get the picture.
Emma thought about it. It sounded like blackmail, but Sue insisted, Its not blackmail. Its a wakeup call. Hell stop seeing you as furniture.
Emma called her parents, who lived three hours away in York. They welcomed Emma and Lily instantly.
Come stay with us, love, her mother said. Well look after Lily.
Emma packed and told David, Were heading to my parents for a week. You have time to think. She sent a short text: Were away. You decide what to do.
On the train Lily fell asleep on Emmas shoulder. Emma stared out at the rolling countryside, wondering what lay ahead. Would David return? Could he stand up to his mother? Or was it all over?
At the station, her parents greeted them warmly. Whats wrong? her mother asked.
Later, Emma whispered.
That night, after Lily was asleep, Emma told her parents everything. Her father listened, his expression darkening.
I should go and speak to that lad, he muttered.
Dad, no, her mother said. This is our problem.
Its our problem, her father corrected. Youre my daughter, so Im involved.
Emma smiled through tears, grateful for the support.
She spent three days without phone, without worries, walking with Lily, helping her mum with chores, chatting with her dad. On the fourth day she finally checked her phone. Thirty missed calls from David, a dozen messages first angry, then confused, then desperate.
Where are you?
Why arent you answering?
Im worried!
Please let me know youre okay.
Im sorry. We need to talk.
The last one, sent an hour ago: I miss you, Lily, and you. Come home, please.
Emma dialed his number. He answered after one ring.
Emma! Thank God! Where are you?
At my parents place. Alls fine.
Why didnt you reply? Ive been looking everywhere!
I needed time to think. You too.
There was a pause.
Ive thought a lot, David said quietly. I see now youre right. Mum has been turning me against you. I didnt want to admit it.
Emma felt her heart quicken.
Go on.
When you werent here I tried cooking, cleaning, doing everything myself. I realised how much you actually do. Im sorry, Ive been a blind idiot.
What about your mum?
I told her I wont let her interfere any more. She was upset, but thats her issue now.
David
Please come back. Lets start over, like we wanted.
Emma closed her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but fear lingered. I need a bit more time, she said. Ill be backShe took a deep breath, packed her bags, and headed home, hopeful that this time they could truly rebuild their life together.