“Mother isn’t going anywhere! It’s you who’ll be out on the street!” bellowed her husband, conveniently forgetting whose name was on the deed.
Emily stood by the bay window, the sticky July heat pressing down on London. In the communal garden below, children darted between the oak trees, seeking shelter from the sun.
“Em, where’s my shirt?” came the shout from the bedroom. “The navy checked one!”
“It’s in the wardrobe,” she replied without turning. “Top shelf.”
Daniel appeared in the doorway, buttoning the shirt he’d found. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the rough hands of a plumber. Once, those hands had seemed strong and dependable.
“Listen,” he began, adjusting his collar. “Mum’s coming round today. Tidy up properlylast time she spent the whole evening moaning about dust.”
Emily slowly turned to face him. That familiar knot of irritation tightened in her chest.
“Your mother always finds something wrong,” she said quietly. “Last time the roast was too dry, before that the mash was lumpy.”
“Then do better,” Daniel shrugged, as if discussing the weather. “She’s got experience, just trying to help, and you take offence.”
Emily clenched her fists. This flat was hers alone. She’d bought the two-bedroom before they’d even met, decorated it to her taste, poured her savings into the renovation. And now Margaret waltzed in every visit, rearranged everything, and lectured her on where things belonged.
“Dan, we live in *my* flat,” Emily reminded him. “Maybe you should remember that?”
Her husband froze, one hand already on the front door handle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daniel’s voice darkened. “That I don’t belong here?”
“I’m saying your mother acts like it’s her place,” Emily stepped closer. “And you let her.”
“Mum cares about us!” Daniel turned fully toward her. “About *family*! She even gave up her own place for my brother!”
Emily smiled bitterly. That tired old story about “helping the young couple” had worn thin.
“Your mum gave Simon a one-bed two years ago,” she said slowly. “So what? Now she gets to boss me around in my home?”
“*Our* home!” Daniel snapped. “We’re married!”
“On your thirty grand a year, we’d be renting a box room in Croydon,” the words slipped out before she could stop them.
Her husband’s face darkened. He stepped toward her, his bulk looming over her.
“So now you’re throwing that in my face?” His voice trembled with anger. “Because I don’t earn enough?”
“I’m not throwing anything,” Emily lifted her chin. “Just stating facts. Your mum rents now because she gave Simon her flat. Yet she lectures *us* on how to live.”
“Simon needed help!” Daniel turned to the window. “Young family, planning kids!”
“Kids,” Emily repeated. “Always about kids.”
Her husband spun back around. That familiar fire flared in his eyes.
“And what, isn’t it time? We’ve been married five years and you keep putting it off. A proper wife wants children!”
“On what, Dan?” Emily spread her hands. “On your salary? Do you know how much nappies cost? School uniforms? GP prescriptions?”
“We’ll manage,” he waved it off. “Everyone else does!”
“Everyone else,” Emily shook her head. “And I’ll be stuck on maternity pay while you break your back fixing pipes for peanuts?”
Outside, pigeons cooed in the trees. Daniel fell silent, jaw working. Emily watched the muscle twitch in his cheek.
“You know what,” he finally said, turning back. “Enough arguing. Mum’s got problems.”
“What now?” Emily stepped away from the window.
“She can’t rent anymore,” Daniel rubbed his neck. “Her pension doesn’t cover it, and the landlord doubled the rent.”
Emily nodded. Margaret had been complaining for months about prices. The logical thing would be to move in with Simoninto the very flat she’d given him.
“I see,” Emily said. “So Simon’s lot will have to make space.”
Daniel straightened sharply. His eyes hardened.
“Mum’s moving in here,” he announced. “Temporarily, till she sorts something.”
Emily froze. His words echoed as if from far away.
“Here?” she repeated. “In our flat?”
“Yes, here!” Daniel raised his voice. “What’s the issue? There’s room.”
“Dan, where will she sleep? In the lounge?”
“What’s wrong with that?” he crossed his arms. “Mum sacrificed everything for her kids, and you’re being selfish!”
Emily stepped back against the wall. Indignation churned inside her.
“Why not with Simon?” she asked quietly. “He’s got the flat your mum gave him.”
“They’ve got a baby!” Daniel roared. “They need the space! Aren’t we family too?”
“We are family, but this flat is mine,” Emily reminded.
Her husband’s face darkened further. He stepped closer.
“Selfish! Always thinking of yourself! A decent wife would stand by her husband in tough times!”
Emily pressed against the wall. He was too close, suffocating.
“You won’t give me kids, at least help the family this way!” he went on. “Mum’s given her whole life for us!”
“Dan, listen” Emily began, but he cut her off.
“Maybe you don’t want a family at all? Just say it!”
Emily lowered her head. Daniel knew how to twist the knife, find every weak spot. Guilt washed over her.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “She can stay a while.”
A week later, Margaret moved into their lounge. She arrived with three suitcases and immediately started rearranging. The telly went by the window, the sofa against the wall, Emily’s houseplants exiled to the balcony.
“It needs more light in here,” the mother-in-law explained as she shifted furniture. “And those plants just gather dust.”
Emily silently watched her lounge become a stranger’s bedroom. Daniel helped his mother, carrying heavy boxes.
“Mum, you alright here?” he asked gently.
“I’ll manage,” sighed Margaret. “Bit cramped, though.”
Three months passed. Emily became a ghost in her own home. She crept about, afraid to disturb her mother-in-law. Apologised for every noise, every movement.
Margaret took complete control. She binned Emily’s washing powder, replaced it with her own brand. Banned her favourite posh sausages.
“These are too dear, get the basic ones,” she ordered in Tesco. “No need to waste money.”
Each morning, Emily cleaned under Margaret’s watchful eye. One day, taking out the rubbish, something caught her eye. She bent down and froze.
Her childhood photo album. The one with school pictures, birthday parties. Her only record of growing up.
With shaking hands, Emily pulled it out, stained with tea leaves.
“Margaret,” she called, stepping back into the lounge. “Why was this in the bin?”
Her mother-in-law didn’t look up from *Loose Women*.
“Oh, that? Binned it. Just clutter, taking up space.”
“These are my childhood photos!” Emily’s voice shook.
“Ancient history,” Margaret waved her off. “Why keep it?”
Something inside Emily snapped. Three months of humiliation, silence, and shame erupted.
“Get out!” she screamed. “Get out of my flat right now!”
The mother-in-law leapt from the sofa, eyes blazing.
“How dare you speak to your elders like that!” she shrieked. “Know your place!”
A dishevelled Daniel rushed from the bedroom. Hearing the shouting, he immediately took his mother’s side.
“Mum isn’t going anywhere!” he roared at his wife. “You’re the one who’ll be out on the street!”
But inside Emily, something had broken for good. Her scream died in her throat. She looked at her husband and his mother with icy calm. Rage gave way to clarity.
“The flat’s in my name,” Emily said quietly but firmly. “Only I decide who lives here.”
“How dare you!” Daniel stepped toward her, face purple with fury. “I’m your husband!”
“Ex-husband,” Emily corrected, turning to the wardrobe.
She yanked out a large holdall and began stuffing it with her mother-in-law’s thingsblouses, skirts, dressing gownswithout care.
“You’ve gone mad!” Daniel shouted. “Stop this now!”
Emily didn’t answer. She grabbed slippers from under the sofa, tossed them in the bag. The older woman scrambled, trying to snatch her belongings back.
“Love, calm down!” Her voice trembled with outrage. “We’re family!”
“Family?” Emily spun around. “Family doesn’t bin childhood photos!”
The mother-in-law shrunk back. Daniel tried to grab the bag, but Emily dodged.
“Mum’s given everything for her children!” he shouted. “And you chuck her out like rubbish!”
“For five years I put up with your nonsense,” Emily zipped the bulging bag. “For three months I’ve lived like a stranger in my own home!”
She marched to the bedroom for Daniel’s thingsjumpers, shirts, jeansall into another bag. Daniel followed, grabbing her wrist.
“Think! Where will we go?”
“Not my problem,” Emily wrenched free. “Go to Simon’s.”
“There’s no room at Simon’s!” the mother-in-law wailed from the lounge. “They’ve got the baby!”
“And *I’ve* got me!” Emily shouted back, hauling both bags to the door.
She returned for shoes, toiletries, knick-knacks.
“You’ll die alone!” Daniel shouted, pulling on his jacket. “You’ll come crawling back begging us to return!”
Emily silently held the door open. Her mother-in-law sniffled, stuffing the last of her things into a carrier bag.
“Dear, think again,” she pleaded. “Where will we live now?”
“Where you lived before me,” Emily replied.
Daniel grabbed his bag, stormed out. On the threshold he turned, face twisted in rage.
Margaret stepped out last, dragging her bags. She glanced back from the landing.
“Ungrateful!” she shouted. “We only ever wanted what’s best for you!”
Emily shut the door. Turned the key twice, slid the chain. Shouts, footsteps, the lift doors clanging echoed from the stairwell.
Then silence.
Emily stood with her back to the door, listening to her own breathing. For the first time in months, there was no blaring telly, no creaking sofa under Margaret’s weight.
She walked into the lounge. Put the sofa back, turned the telly around. Returned her plants to the windowsill.
Then she sat down, took the rescued photo album in her hands. Flipped through the pagesschool plays, a birthday with five candles, nursery graduation.
And suddenly she laughed. Quietly at first, then louder. The laughter turned to sobs of relief, then back to laughter. She laughed until tears streamed down her face, clutching the album to her chest.
The flat was hers again. Hers alone.
