Hey love, you wont believe the drama thats unfolded at the house.
Emily popped the question this morning: Mark, I need a favor. Mum cant manage the balcony windows herself, and weve got a proper grocery list for the week. Could you swing by today and sort it out?
Mark drifted into the kitchen in his old joggers and a crumpled tshirt, looking like a lazy Sunday. He grabbed a glass of water from the filter, barely noticing Emily. She was perched at the little table by the window, nursing her coffee, while the morning sun painted whimsical patterns on the tablecloth. Her thoughts seemed miles away.
This wasnt the first time shed been put in that spot. It started with tiny asks: Emily, could you pass Mum the bread? Can you pop over with her meds? Then it snowballed into regular trips across town with heavy bags, deepcleaning at her motherinlaws place, and even the odd DIY fix that Mrs. Harper swore only a young, spry lad could handle. Mark, on the other hand, was a master of avoidance always busy, tired or just not feeling it. Youre free, arent you? hed say, and Emily would sigh, haul the bags, wash the windows, fix the leaky tap, all while listening to Mums endless rants about her health, the cost of everything, the neighbours and how poor Mark always ends up with the short end of the stick.
One afternoon Emilys tone was calm but steelsharp, and Mark turned his head, surprised. Mark, Ive already said this. Im your wife, not a personal assistant for your mum, and certainly not a freerange housekeeper. If Mrs. Harper needs help, why dont you do it yourself? Youve got a day off, remember? Or have you forgotten?
Mark blinked, scrambling for words. Usually these talks ended with Emily giving in after a few coaxing lines.
I thought he started, frowning, its simple! Womens work wipe the windows, grab the groceries youre better at that, arent you?
Emilys smile turned into a sour grin, the kind that spells trouble.
Womens work, huh? she shot back, dripping sarcasm. So hauling fivekilogram sacks of potatoes up to the seventh floor and scrubbing grime off windows is now a ladiesonly job? And you get to lounge on the sofa, saving your energy for a comfy evening?
The tension rose. Mark slammed his glass onto the counter, his face turning a shade of red.
Whats your problem this time? I just asked! Mums getting on, its hard for her! Instead of help you give me a fit!
Fit? Emily raised an eyebrow. You call my refusal to be your errandboy a fit? Listen up.
She leaned in. Im your wife, not a girl on a shopping list! If your mum needs help, you go and do it yourself! Its your duty as a son. You think its okay to push all that onto me? Im not asking you to look after my mother thats my business and Ill handle it. So grab the list, a cloth, a bucket, and head to Mums. Use my gloves if youve run out of yours. Ive got my own things to do, and Im not taking any more of these requests. Got it?
Mark stared at her as if she were an alien. Everything hed known was crumbling. Emily, whod always given in, was suddenly cold, decisive, and nonnegotiable.
You understand what youre saying? This is disrespect to my mother! he shouted, stepping forward.
Emily didnt flinch. No, Mark. This is respect for myself. Basic selfrespect. If you cant see that, thats your problem.
She got up, walked around the table, and left the kitchen, leaving him alone in the sunny patches of the room, the cosy vibe shattered and a sudden thought nagging at him: life just got a lot less comfortable.
Mark wasnt ready to throw in the towel. He followed her into the lounge where she had plonked herself with a book. He paused in the doorway, fists clenched, his face burning.
You just decided to walk away? You think you can ignore my requests, my mums needs? Thats how a wife should behave?
Emily slowly closed the book. Do you think its normal, Mark, to dump a sons responsibilities onto his wife? she asked, voice level. You keep forgetting that Mum is yours too. She has a grown, healthy son with a day off. Why does he send you instead of helping himself, while you spend the day on the couch?
Because it never bothered anyone before! Mark snapped, lunging forward. You always helped, everything was fine! What changed? Did you get a crown or think youre special now?
What changed is that I cant do it all anymore, Emily replied, her tone calm but edged with longstanding fatigue. Im tired of being the convenient helper for both of you, never considered a person in my own right. You say you always said yes, but have you ever thought about what that costs me? How many times have I sacrificed my plans, my rest, even my health just to keep you and your mum happy?
Mark waved it off, as if swatting a fly. Here we go again, the martyr act! No one forced you. You went willingly, so it must have been comfortable for you!
Emily let out a bitter chuckle. I went because I wanted peace at home, because I hoped youd notice, appreciate all I do. Instead you took it for granted, as if Im obligated to serve every relative of yours. And guess what? My own mum has never asked you to pop over and help with windows or the garden, even when shes struggling. She gets that we have our own life. Your mum, however, treats me like a free resource you can call on whenever you wish.
Dont compare them! Mark roared, his face twisted with anger. My mother has always looked out for us! Now you act like a selfish pig for not helping her? Thats pure ego!
Whos looking after me if not me? Emily stared him straight in the eyes, no fear, no guilt, just confidence. You? Or Mrs. Harper, who after a cleanup starts bragging about how the neighbours daughter bakes pies every day? No, Mark. This is the end of me being a doormat for anyones debt or help. I wont let you hide behind age or imagined frailty to exploit me.
The room crackled. Mark felt his control slipping. His usual authority, his right to dictate, was crumbling before his eyes. Hed always counted on Emily being pliant. Now she stood there, icy and firm, pulling him out of his comfort zone.
Youre ungrateful! he gasped. We love you, and you He jabbed, you dont appreciate us at all! You dont care about our feelings!
Oh, feelings! Emily laughed, but there was no mirth. When was the last time you actually asked how I felt, Mark? When I trudged back home after a whole day at your mums and you just said, All right, did you finish everything? Good job. My need for rest, for simple human attention? Never. Its far easier to have a wife who silently does everything you ask.
Mark paced like a cornered animal, his usual pressure tactics falling flat, only making him more frantic.
Fine, he finally panted, if you wont cooperate nicely, well do it the hard way. Ill call my mum right now.
He fished out his phone, dialed quickly. Emily sat calmly, a thin veil of disdain over her face. She knew this move the big gun of Mums interference.
A moment later, a disgruntled voice answered: Mark, you up early? Im just trying to keep calm.
Mum, can you believe whats happening? I asked Emily to go to you for the windows and the shopping, and shes giving me a fit! She says youre my mum, I should do it myself, not her! Can you imagine? he blurted, making sure Emily heard each word.
A heavy silence fell. Emily smirked inwardly; shed heard her mothers pauses before.
What what? Mrs. Harper finally drawled, feigning surprise. You said that about me?
Yes, thats right, Mum! She says Im supposed to be the one cleaning the windows, not her. Shes fed up, says its nonsense! Mark rattled on.
Emily, perfectly poised, asked, Can I have the phone, please?
Mark, feeling victorious, handed it over.
Are you scared? Going to apologise to Mum? Emily said, her voice icecold, and pressed the speaker button.
Hello, Mrs. Harper, Emily began, businesslike. I heard your conversation and Id like to set the record straight.
Sweetie, whats happening with Mark? He looks upset why are you treating him like this? Were family, after all, the motherinlaw cooed, then her tone sharpened.
Mrs. Harper, if you truly need help with heavy chores like washing windows or carrying groceries, you should ask your son, not his wife, Emily replied firmly. He has a day off, hes healthy, and its his duty as a son to look after his mother. Im his wife, not your domestic worker.
Emily, dear, youre the housewife Mark is a man, he works and provides the older woman began, irritation creeping in.
I also work, Mrs. Harper, Emily interrupted. My day off is just as valuable. Im not going to do regular, unpaid work for your household. If you need a clean, you could hire a cleaning service. Thats a realistic solution.
Cleaning service? Letting strangers in my house? People will think Ive abandoned my son! the motherinlaw protested.
Im not worried about what strangers think, Emily said, unflinching. I care about my right to a life and rest of my own. If Mark feels ashamed to help his own mum, thats his issue, not mine.
A tense pause lingered, only the sound of Mrs. Harpers heavy breathing filling the line.
So thats how it is? she finally hissed, her voice stripped of any former softness. You think you can run the house now? Fine, Emily Ill come over and sort this myself. If youre against the family, against respect for elders, Ill handle it personally. Well have a serious talk, and youll learn how things should be done.
She slammed the phone down. Mark shot Emily a triumphant glance, as if saying, Watch me. She simply placed the handset on the table, already prepared for what came next.
Forty minutes later, a frantic knock rattled the front door, as if the whole door wanted to be ripped off its hinges. Mark, buzzing with nerves, lunged to answer. Emily stayed in her chair, her interior still trembling, but her resolve was steel.
Mum! You have no idea what just happened! Mark shouted from the hallway, still fuming.
Mrs. Harper stormed in like a whirlwind cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, scarf slipping off her shoulder. She was a picture of fury ready for battle.
Come here, girl! she snapped at Emily, who rose calmly to meet her. How dare you tell my son what to do? How could you speak to me like that?
Good afternoon, Mrs. Harper, Emily replied, keeping her politeness, which only seemed to fuel the older womans rage. Glad youre here. Lets have a calm chat, without any misunderstandings.
Chat? the motherinlaw shrieked. I have nothing to discuss with a woman who insults her own sons mother! We welcomed you into the family, and you turn out to be a snake! Where was Mark when you were spouting this nonsense?
He was right here, Mum! Marks mother interrupted, defending him. He says I should be the one washing your windows, that it isnt my wifes job. Can you believe that?
I wasnt just saying that, Mark, Emily said evenly. I was stating a fact. Youre his mother, so its your sons responsibility to look after you. If you think your wife should do it for you, youre either lazy or not a man at all.
How dare you! Mrs. Harper sputtered. My son works! Hes exhausted! And you just sit there doing nothing!
I work too, Mrs. Harper, Emilys voice grew stronger. I earn as much as your son, and my home isnt a freeservice centre for your family. Youve raised a man who cant make a decision without you, and Im done being the endless helper in this toxic setup.
Her words landed like slaps. Mark was left speechless, his mother shaking with anger.
Ive given him everything! Stayed up nights! And you come here, judge me! the older woman wailed.
Thats exactly why hes still dependent, Emily shot back. Youve kept him on a leash. Im no longer part of that theatre.
Mark finally snapped, Shut up! My mother is a saint! If you dont like it, leave! I choose my mother, shes the only one I have, and there are plenty like you out there!
Emily gave him a long, cold stare. Fine, Mark, she said softly but firmly. Youve made your choice. I know exactly what youre worth now. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things or go back to her. I dont care. This nightmare ends here.
She turned away, signalling the conversation was over. Behind her, the muffled cries of his mother and his angry shouts faded. Emily looked out the window at a brandnew day. The heavy weight had finally lifted from her shoulders. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also freedom. Behind her were two people who had lost not just a daughterinlaw or a wife, but the chance at a normal life, forever trapped in their own toxic circle.
