For twenty years, she endured her mother-in-laws crueltyuntil the womans final words chilled her to the bone.
“You shouldnt have shouted at her like that, Emily. Shes old now,” William murmured, setting his mug down and casting a guilty glance at his wife.
“Old? Was she old when she spent years making my life miserable?” Emily spun away from the window, her voice sharp. “Twenty years, Will. Twenty years Ive put up with her nonsense!”
“But now shes ill…”
“Ill!” Emily scoffed. “Ill when it suits her. But when its time to snap at Mrs. Higgins next door or shred my nerves, suddenly shes the picture of health.”
William sipped his tea in silence, exhausted by the endless feuding between his wife and his mother. The same script, day after dayhis mothers barbs, Emilys fury, slamming doors, bitter words.
“What did she even say this time?” he asked, though he knew better.
Emily shut her eyes as if summoning strength.
“She said I was a poor housewife. That my soup was tasteless, the house filthy, the children spoiled. Then she added that I ought to take lessons from your brothers wife, Sophie. Now theres a woman who can cook and clean properly.”
“Mum just… shes used to being in control.”
“Used to it?” Emilys voice cracked. “And what about me? Am I not used to cooking after work, to scrubbing and folding laundry? Am I not used to hearing daily that Im worthless?”
William stood, reaching for her, but she stepped back.
“Do you know what she told me as she left today?” Emily wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “That when youre gone, Ill still be alone. Because no one would ever want someone like me.”
William froze, arms outstretched.
“She didnt say that…”
“She did. Word for word. Then she slammed the door so hard the plaster shook.”
Footsteps padded down the hall, and the kitchen door creaked open. Ten-year-old Lily peeked in.
“Mum, has Granny gone? She didnt say anything to me,” the girl murmured, wrapping her arms around Emilys waist.
“Shes gone, sweetheart. Back to her own house.” Emily smoothed Lilys hair.
“Why were you shouting again? It scares me when you yell.”
Emily knelt, meeting her daughters gaze.
“Forgive us, love. Grown-ups dont always agree. But that doesnt mean we dont love each other.”
“Granny doesnt love you,” Lily blurted. “Shes always cross with you. And it makes me sad.”
Emily hugged her tightly, tears spilling anew.
“Go finish your homework, darling. Dad and I need to talk.”
When Lily had gone, William sat beside his wife.
“Emily, Ill speak to Mum. Make her understand”
“Understand what?” Emily sighed. “Youve been trying for twenty years. It hasnt worked.”
“Then what do we do?”
She stared at her handshands that scrubbed dishes, folded laundry, soothed fevered brows. Hands that worked eight-hour shifts at the shop only to come home and work again. And still, her mother-in-law called her a bad housewife.
“Remember when we met?” she asked suddenly.
William blinked. “Of course. At the village dance. You wore a blue dress.”
“Powder blue,” Emily corrected with a sad smile. “I thought you were the most handsome man alive. And your mother hated me from the start.”
“She was just worried Id marry”
“Enough excuses, Will!” Emily snapped. “She despised me because my family wasnt wealthy. Because my dad was a mechanic, not some high-up engineer like yours.”
“That was ages ago…”
“Ages? Remember our wedding? Your mother scowled the entire time. And when we moved in, the first thing she said was that her house had rulesand Id better follow them.”
Emily stood, filling the kettle.
“Twenty years, Will. Twenty years of trying to please her. Cooking her way, cleaning her way, raising the children by her rules. And what do I get in return?”
“Mum does appreciate you…”
“Appreciates me?” Emily laughed bitterly. “She tolerates me. Theres a difference.”
The kettle whistled. She poured the tea and sat back down.
“You know what I dream of?” she whispered. “Waking up and not worrying if breakfast will pass inspection. Coming home from work and not fearing shell find dust on a shelf. Buying the children sweets without hearing Im ruining their digestion.”
“Emily…”
“No, let me finish. I dream of living in our own home. Where no one critiques my every step. Where the children dont hear constant fighting.”
William took her hand.
“But Mums alone. Wholl care for her?”
“And wholl care for me?” Emilys voice cracked. “When I had pneumonia, your mother never brought me so much as tea. Yet she demanded I cook because her soup wasnt good enough.”
“That was years back”
“And the year after, when I had surgery. And the year after that, when I broke my wrist. Every time, Will. Every time, it was my fault for failing my duties.”
A knock sounded. William returned with their neighbor, Mrs. Wilkins.
“Hello, dear,” the older woman said, declining tea. “I was passing and thought Id pop in. Heard Margaret came home in a state again.”
“A state,” Emily muttered.
“Dont be cross with her, love. Shes old, unwell. At her age, the temper goes sour.”
“Mrs. Wilkins, do you know what she told me today?”
Emily repeated the words. Mrs. Wilkins shook her head.
“Oh, Emily! Margaret only lashed out in anger. She knows shed be lost without you.”
“Knows?” Emily stiffened. “If she knows, why does she never show it?”
“She does, in her way. How many times has she bragged to me about what a fine wife you are? How well you keep house, how devoted you are to the children?”
Emily stared.
“She… bragged?”
“Regularly! Says youre a wonderful mother. Cook like a dream, too. Shes just too proud to say it to your face.”
“Then why the constant criticism?”
Mrs. Wilkins sighed, glancing between them.
“Youre a clever woman, Emily. Margarets been the matriarch all her life. After her husband died, she ruled alone. Then you cameyoung, lovely. William adored you. She felt replaced as the most important woman in his life.”
“But I never took her son from her…”
“No, but you took his heart. And for a mother like Margaret, thats agony.”
Emily listened, the logic doing little to soothe her.
“So what now? Endure it forever?”
“Try speaking kindly. No shouting, no arguing. Tell her you value her opinion, that you want to be a good daughter-in-law.”
“Ive tried, Mrs. Wilkins. Many times. It doesnt work.”
The neighbor rose to leave.
“Well, its your choice. Just rememberbreaking a family is easy. Mending it is hard.”
After she left, silence settled. Dusk crept through the windows; dogs barked distantly, cars rumbled past.
“Will… what if we rented a place?” Emily whispered.
“We cant afford it.”
“I could take extra hours. The corner shop needs weekend help.”
“And Mum?”
“She stays here. Its her house. Well find something small. Ours.”
William was quiet a long time.
“Maybe… maybe we should try. Just for a while.”
“A while?” Emily turned to him. “Will, I cant anymore. Im tired of dreading each day. Tiptoeing around. Im forty years old and still feel like a guilty schoolgirl.”
“Alright,” he said softly. “Well look at places.”
Emily hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. For the first time in years, she felt she had a right to her own life.
“What if your mother objects?”
“She objects to plenty. But this is our choice.”
The next evening, Emily returned from work to find Margaret at the stove, stirring soup, pointedly ignoring her.
“Hello,” Emily said.
“Hello,” Margaret grunted. “There was nothing to feed the children. Had to step in.”
Emily bit back a retort, remembering their decision. They just needed to find the right place.
“Thank you for cooking. Ill change and help.”
Margaret blinked, surprisedEmily usually snapped back.
“Dont need help. Ive got it.”
“As you like,” Emily said calmly, heading to the bedroom.
As she changed, she heard Margaret clattering pots, clearly waiting for a fight that didnt come.
At dinner, Emily stayed quiet, speaking only when the children asked direct questions. William, too, was subdued
