“Mums already picked out which room shes taking in your house!” declared her husband the day after the wedding.
Emily had never imagined the morning after her own wedding would mark the start of a battle for the right to live in her own flat. The September morning was crisp, the first golden leaves drifting lazily outside, while the scent of wedding flowers still lingered inside.
The wedding had been modestjust a registry office ceremony and a small gathering for close family at a nearby restaurant. Emily had deliberately chosen something intimateshe wanted the day remembered by warmth and sincerity, not the extravagance of a banquet hall. Her in-laws had wrinkled their noses at the simplicity, but shed stood her ground. Better to spend the money on something truly useful.
The newlyweds had returned to Emilys flat around ten. The three-bedroom flat in a nice part of London had been her parents gift for her twenty-fifth birthday. Theyd scrimped and saved for years to afford it, denying themselves luxuries, all to give their daughter a solid start in life.
Tired but happy, Emily carefully arranged the gifts and bouquets in the living room. The white roses and chrysanthemums went into a large vase by the window, while boxes of crockery and linens were tucked away on shelves. Each item held the warmth of well-wishes from friends and family.
Meanwhile, Matthew was at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone, occasionally chuckling or typing something. His expression was oddeager, as if waiting for important news. Emily asked if everything was alright a few times, but he brushed her off, claiming he was just tired.
The evening passed quietly. The two drank tea with leftover wedding cake, sharing memories of the day and planning their future. Matthew was unusually quiet, but Emily put it down to exhaustion.
The next morning, she woke with a lightness in her chest. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. She wanted the first day of married life to feel special. Rising early, she made breakfastscrambled eggs with bacon and fresh coffeeand laid the table with the embroidered tablecloth her aunt had gifted her.
Matthew shuffled into the kitchen around nine, yawning. He took a sip of coffee and said, as if it were nothing,
*”Oh, by the wayMums already chosen her room in your flat. Shes moving in tomorrow.”*
Emily froze, fork mid-air, staring at him in disbelief. Yesterday morning, shed been a free woman in her own home. By evening, a wife. And now, suddenly, there was to be another residentdecided without so much as a discussion.
*”What did you say?”* she asked slowly, hoping shed misheard.
*”Mums moving in,”* Matthew said, buttering his toast as if discussing the weather. *”Shes not comfortable where she is now. And weve got spaceplenty of rooms.”*
Emily blinked rapidly, trying to process this. Heat crept up her cheeks.
*”Matthew, have you lost your mind? What right does your mother have to claim a room in my flat?”*
He raised his eyebrows, startled by her reaction. *”Em, were married now. Whats yours is ours. Family sticks together. Shes struggling latelyher healths not great.”*
Emily stood abruptly, chair scraping the floor. He spoke as if discussing furniture, not moving a stranger into her home without permission.
*”Hold on”* She held up a hand. *”Were you even going to ask me? Or did you assume marriage meant Id automatically house your mother?”*
*”Dont be so harsh,”* he frowned. *”Margarets lovelyyou know that. She cooks, she helps around the house. Itll make things easier for you.”*
Emily paced, gripping the counter. Over their two-year relationship, her mother-in-law had seemed pleasant enough, though strong-willed. But occasional visits were one thingliving together daily was another.
*”Listen to me,”* she said, stopping in front of him. *”This flat is mine. Solely mine. The deeds are in my namemy parents bought it for me. No one decides what happens here but me.”*
*”Technically, sure,”* he shrugged. *”But were family now. We dont divide things.”*
Emily marched to the hall cupboard, pulling out a folder. She dropped it on the table with a thud.
*”Purchase agreement,”* she pointed. *”Emily Victoria Carter. See that? Not Harrismy maiden name. Because it was bought before marriage. Legally, this isnt joint property.”*
Matthew barely glanced at it. *”Fine, skip the legalities. Mum needs help. Her hearts playing tricks, her blood pressures all over the place. She cant manage alone.”*
*”Then she moves in with you and your dad,”* Emily countered. *”Or rent her a place nearby. There are options.”*
*”Christ, Em, have you no heart?”* he snapped. *”She worked her fingers to the bone for us! Now she needs support, and youre fobbing her off?”*
Emily crossed her arms. Classic guilt-tripping. First the ultimatum, then the accusations.
*”Im happy to helpwithin reason. We can visit, invite her for dinners, assist with shopping or doctors. But moving in? Thats a joint decisionnot a decree.”*
*”What difference does it make?”* Matthew slammed the table, making cups rattle. *”Shes packed already! The movers are booked for tomorrow!”*
Emily went still. So this wasnt temporary. Furniture and all.
*”What furniture?”* she asked quietly.
*”Bed, wardrobe, dresserthe usual. She picked the room opposite ours. Said the lights good, and its near the bathroom.”*
Emily sank into a chair, legs weak. So Margaret had not only planned this but *inspected* the flat, chosen her quarterswhen? Emily hadnt handed out keys.
*”Matthew,”* she said, voice dangerously calm, *”when did your mother tour your flat?”*
*”Few weeks back,”* he mumbled. *”When you were out. Wanted to see where wed live. Normal, isnt it?”*
*”You let strangers into my home without asking?”*
*”Shes not a stranger!”* he exploded. *”Shes my mother! And we were engagedso it was practically ours anyway.”*
Emily studied him. For two years, hed seemed kind, decent. A bit of a mummys boy, but wasnt that a virtue? Family values.
Now, a different man sat before herone who *commandeered* her property, ushered in outsiders, and saw nothing wrong with it.
*”An engagement grants no rights,”* she said evenly. *”Nor does marriage, over whats mine. I thought you understood that.”*
*”Stop being so legalistic! Were family!”*
*”Family respects boundaries,”* she shot back. *”Heres your choice. We live here, just uslike a normal couple. Or you pack your things and move in with your mother. Theres no third option.”*
He gaped. *”Youre serious? Youre giving me an ultimatum?”*
*”Im stating facts. The choice is yours.”*
Matthews jaw tightened. For the first time, he was seeing her *not* as a pliable girl, but a woman who set linesand enforced them.
*”Youre cruel,”* he muttered. *”Mums done nothing to you. Shes just asking for help.”*
*”Cruelty is deciding for others,”* Emily said. *”Kindness is offering helpand waiting for consent.”*
Silence thickened. Matthew stared out the window; Emily cleared the table, stacking dishes with deliberate calm. Every movement telegraphed resolveshed live with him or without him, but only on her terms.
After a while, he exhaled. *”Alright. Ill call Mum. Cancel the move.”*
Emily smiled faintly. *”Thank you.”*
*”Shell be gutted,”* he muttered. *”All her things packedpaid the movers…”*
*”Then she unpacks,”* Emily said. *”And your dad *doesnt* suddenly have phantom renovations.”*
Matthew flushedhed been caught in the lie.
*”Look, I messed up,”* he admitted. *”Shouldve talked to you first. But Mum made it sound so *reasonable*…”*
Emily softened. *”Help should be *mutual*. Not forced.”*
He nodded slowly. *”Suppose so.”*
She hugged him. The first real fight of their marriageand theyd navigated it. Matthew had chosen *her*, not his mothers demands.
Later, as golden light spilled through the kitchen, they sat entwined on the sofa. The battle was wonbut the war might still loom
