“Time will tell,” scoffed Emily.
“No! As long as were stuck in this madhouse with your mum and little Lily, theres not going to be a wedding!”
“Come on, love, no need to go off the deep end,” sighed James. “We can rent the dress, weve still got time. Or postponewhatever you want. Theres no need to make a scene.”
“You dont get it,” Emily snapped, folding her arms. “Its not about the dress. Its about feeling like Im living in a warzone. Your sisters old enough to know better, but shes got the manners of a feral cat. And honestly? Your mums the real problem.”
James didnt appreciate the bluntness, though he couldnt deny there was some truth in it. Margarethis motherhad, whether by accident or design, turned his sister against Emily from the start.
The two had met at uni. Their relationship progressed slowly, largely because neither had their own place. James still lived at home”for convenience,” as he put it.
“Ive got Grans old flat,” hed say. “Mums renting it out for now, but when we need it, well fix it up proper.”
A year later, they finally needed it. James decided it was time to take things seriously. Degrees in hand and jobs secured, there was no reason to wait.
“Well stay with Mum just a bit longer,” hed said cheerfully. “Six months tops, then wedding bells and our own place!”
Emily had been thrilledat first. It sounded mature, responsible. Then reality sank in: theyd never lived together, and now shed be thrown straight into the deep end with her future mother-in-law. Would it ruin everything?
Almost.
Margaret wasnt your classic nightmare mother-in-law. She cooked for everyone, never picked fights, even offered to help with the wedding. The problem? Her parenting style.
Lily, the younger sister, was spoiled rotten, and Margarets idea of discipline was, well, questionable.
One evening, while Emily brewed tea, Margaret leafed through Lilys school diary, spotting fresh fails and another conduct warning.
“Oh, for heavens sake,” Margaret sighed. “Was reciting one poem too much for you? Rightphone and tablet, now. Youll get the phone back when youve memorised that verse, and the tablet after an A in English.”
Lily rolled her eyes with dramatic flair.
“Fine, take them. Ill just borrow Jamess then,” she sneered.
Margaret smirked. “Think youll hide behind your brother forever? Hell move out with Emily, have his own kids, forget all about us.”
“Well see about that!” Lily slammed her gadgets on the table and stormed off.
Emily blinked, awkward as a guest at a funeral. She could see Margaret had gone too far, but correcting her? Not her place.
“Margaret, that was a bit harsh” Emily ventured.
“Needs to learn life isnt all rainbows and unicorns,” Margaret sniffed.
That “lesson” backfired spectacularly.
Lily had always given Emily the cold shoulderavoiding meals, sulking in her room. Then came the petty sabotage: hiding the TV remote in a heatwave, tampering with Emilys makeup. When James installed a lock on their bedroom door, Lily threw a tantrum.
“And how am I supposed to do my homework now?” she shrieked.
“Youll use the computer under supervision,” James said calmly.
“You never locked things before!”
“Before, I lived alone. And before, you didnt rifle through my stuff.”
“I never did! Your stupid Emilys lying! I hate her!”
Cue dramatic door slam and hours of sobbing.
“Shes just a kid,” James would say.
“That kid is twelve,” Emily countered. “James, cant we just rent somewhere?”
“Dont be daftits only a few more months.”
Months that felt like eternity.
Emily tried bondingchocolates, asking about school. Lily would mutter “fine,” snatch the sweets, and vanish. Things only got worse.
One morning, Emily hung her bag on the door, dashed to the bathroom, and later found it rifled through. No time to checkshe was late. By lunch, she was stranded outside, keys mysteriously vanished.
She knew where theyd gone. A whispered word to Margaret, a shouting match later, and the keys reappeared. But the damage was done.
James, however, still left doors unlocked. And that was their downfall.
Wedding eve chaosdecorations, calls to guests, last-minute panics. Emily went to admire her dress only to find it shredded. She didnt need Sherlock to know the culprit.
Her hands shook. Fury choked her. She dragged James to the crime scene, speechless.
“You little monster!” Margaret screeched at Lily. “Ive half a mind to make you pay for every stitch! Out on the streets with you, handing out flyers till youve worked it off!”
Lily got the scolding of her life. But the dressand Emilys patiencewere beyond repair.
No compromises. No rentals. No postponements. She was done bending to other peoples nonsense.
“Love, just sleep on it,” James pleaded.
“No, James. Its too late. Either we live alone, or not at all,” Emily said flatly. “Im sick of waiting for your mum to gift us your own flat. Sick of your sister treating my things like free loot. Relationships take work, but not like this. Im not even your wife yet, and Im exhausted.”
She packed her charger, hunted for her passport.
“Where are you going? The renovations wont”
But excuses just sounded hollow now.
She spent that night at a friends, cried herself raw, but the anger stayed. One day a blushing bride, the next? Nowhere to call home.
James called a hundred times. On day three, she answered.
“Em, I know its rubbish. Were gutted. But dont throw us away over this. Well buy another dress, today. Just come home.”
She hesitated. James was decentkind, thoughtful, just a bit soft. She loved him. But
“If we marry, its on my terms.”
“Which are?”
“No family help. No crowd. Just us, a registry office, then three days away. No fuss. And we rent. Properly. No more guarding my toothbrush like its Crown Jewels.”
Silence. Harsh? Maybe. But she wouldnt bend.
“Alright,” James finally said.
The wedding was quiet. Just them, a photographer, and a countryside escape.
Jamess family sulked. Emily didnt care. This day wasnt for themespecially not those whod earned less than a polite nod.
At the tiny reception, Lily sat meek as a church mouse. Probably scolded into silence.
Emily didnt call it victory. Shed never wanted a war. But if boundaries were the price of peace? So be it. Lily might just be a kid. Margaret might mean well. But some doors were meant to stay shut.
