**Diary Entry**
*Why did you make such a fuss yesterday? Your fridges stocked, you wont go hungry,* her brother-in-law sneered, though his eyes flashed with irritation.
The next morning, around noon, Emily stood by the stove, stirring a light soup. Shed planned a quiet dayno unnecessary chatterbut the doorbell shattered that peace. At first, she assumed it was a neighbour borrowing sugar or a parcel delivery. Peering through the peephole, she saw *him*. Thomas.
He lounged there with that smug grin, clutching an empty Tupperware.
Emily opened the door but didnt step aside to let him in.
*”Oh, hullo!”* he said breezily, as if nothing had happened. *”Just passing by. Thoughtsince youre such a brilliant cookmight you have any leftovers? Maybe some roast?”*
She didnt answer immediately. Just held the door ajar and stared.
*”What, suddenly tight-fisted?”* he prodded, smirking. *”Never took you for the selfish type.”*
*”You know, Thomas,”* Emily finally said, *”was last nights dinner not enough? And dont hide behind the kids. Im not Williamyou wont soften me with guilt.”*
*”Come off it,”* he scoffed. *”Youve got plenty. More than enough, really. Wont leave you skint.”*
That phrase lit a fire in her.
*”Youre wrong. I *will* go brokenot from food, but from letting people like you treat my home like a free café.”*
His grin faltered.
*”Oh, touched a nerve, have I?”* he joked, but his voice tightened.
*”No, Thomas. Ive just stopped being convenient.”*
Without another word, she shut the door in his face.
William, hearing the slam, wandered into the hallway.
*”Who was that?”*
*”Your brother,”* she said flatly. *”Came scavenging.”*
William frowned.
*”And you told him?”*
*”That weve nothing left for him.”*
He was silent a long moment, then slumped at the table, rubbing his face.
*”Em, hell be upset now.”*
*”Good. Better him than me feeling like a servant in my own home. Make that clear to him.”*
Right then, Emily realised she wasnt afraidnot of Thomas, nor Williams disapproval. From now on, *her* house ran by *her* rules.
—
The next morning smelled of coffee and clinking spoons. William sat scrolling his phone, pretending all was fine. Emily poured tea, the previous nights words replaying in her mind.
*”Did you speak to Thomas?”* she asked, watching the kettle.
*”Yeah,”* he muttered after a pause. *”Told him not to worry.”*
She looked up.
*”*Not to worry*? Thats your solution?”*
William sighed.
*”Em, I dont want rows. Hes family. So what if he took some food? Times are tough for them.”*
*”Tough for *them*?”* she cut in. *”Its easy for them to take, and easy for you to let them.”*
He fell silent, unprepared for her pushback.
Emily set her cup down.
*”New rules, starting today. Help if you likebut not at *my* expense. Not by disrespecting me.”*
William glanced at his phone, then shrugged.
That morning, Emily felt different. Not just resentful*certain*. She wouldnt bend to keep others comfortable.
She grabbed her bag.
*”Off out.”*
*”What about dinner?”* he asked.
*”Fridge is full. Manage.”*
Outside, the breeze tugged at her hair. This was her first step toward change. It might hurt. William might resist. But shed never return to being ignored.
She stopped at a boutique, buying a handbag*just for her*. No guilt, no “for the household.” As she paid, her phone buzzed: William.
*”Thomas is here,”* he said, background laughter crackling. *”Says he wants to apologise”*
Her stomach knotted. Thomas? Apologise? Unlikely.
*”Be home soon.”*
The walk felt endless. Every scenario spun in her head: faux reconciliation or another demand.
Thomas lounged at the kitchen table, leg swung over his knee, a plate of sandwiches before himand a bulging carrier bag.
*”Em,”* he drawled, *”why the drama yesterday? Alls well. Honestly, your fridge is packedyoull not miss a bit.”*
She hung her coat up slowly.
*”Alls well is when you *ask*. Taking without asking has another name.”*
Thomas smirked, but irritation flickered.
*”Thats how family works. Whats ours is shared.”*
*”Maybe in *your* house,”* she said. *”Here, *my* rules apply.”*
William fidgeted by the stove, mug in hand.
Thomas stood, snatching his bag.
*”Fine. Live like misers. But dont come crying when you need help. Hard times come for everyone. And you, brotheryouve let your wife run roughshod. Youll regret it.”*
The door slammed. Emily turned to William.
*”Next time, back meor Ill handle it alone.”*
He nodded. Something shifted in his eyesunderstanding, or fear of losing her.
Pouring cold tea down the sink, relief washed over her. This wasnt overbut her voice would never be silenced here again.
—
That evening, William slumped onto a stool.
*”Em today was ugly. I justI cant be harsh with them. Theyll cut ties.”*
*”Let them,”* she said. *”Im done being convenient.”*
He ran a hand through his hair.
*”And if they stop speaking to us?”*
*”Then good. I wont play doormat so they can raid our fridge and call me selfish.”*
He didnt arguejust shuffled to the lounge.
Emily knew: change wouldnt come easy. Thomas and Clara would test her. Thered be whispers, attempts to turn William. But now, she had strengthto defend her home, even at the cost of peace.
Days later, Claras name lit up her phone. Emily ignored it. *Let her wait.*
That night, baking scones just *because*, she finally tasted freedom. Not for guests. Not for William. For *her*.
William took a bite.
*”Nice,”* he mumbled.
She met his eyes.
*”This is *our* home, Will. And Im its mistress too.”*
He nodded. The old confusion was gonereplaced by quiet acceptance.
Inside, Emily felt a small, fierce victory. Not over meat or containers, but *respect*. It began here, at their kitchen table.
—
Three months on, Emily sipped coffee, watching frost thaw on the neighbours roof. The house was silentWilliam still asleep. Thomas and Clara hadnt visited, though theyd called. William kept it brief: *”See you at the pub.”*
The absence of tension was strange at firstlike a shadow lifting. She breathed easier.
Even William had changed. Not perfectstill conflict-aversebut no longer at *her* expense. He asked her opinions now.
One night, he admitted:
*”Thought keeping everyone happy meant respect. Turns out, its the quickest way to lose it.”*
Shed smilednot the old strained one, but *real*.
Now, dawn light spilling into the kitchen, she knew: it started when Thomas smirked, *”Youll not miss it,”* and shed said *”No.”*
Quietly, firmly, she understood: boundaries, once set, *hold*. And if tested againshed stand firmer.
**(Lesson:** Respect isnt given to those who give endlesslyits earned by those who know their worth.)
