Clear out a room in the house, my parents will be living there now, my husband tells me, his decision already made.
Emily is at her desk when someone knocks on the office door. James peers in, looking at the familiar space with a strangely fresh perspective.
May I come in? he asks, already having stepped over the threshold.
She nods without taking her eyes off the screen. The house, inherited from Aunt Margaret five years ago, is spacious and bright, with three bedrooms. Emily has turned one of them into the perfect officeorder and silence rule here.
Listen, James begins, perching on the edge of the sofa, my parents are complaining again about the city bustle.
Emily finally turns to him. After ten years of marriage she can read his tone like a book. Theres a note of uncertainty now.
My mum says she cant sleep because of the noise, James continues. And dad keeps saying hes fed up with all the running around. On top of that, the rent keeps rising.
I see, she replies shortly, returning to her work.
But the talk about his parents doesnt stop. Every evening James finds a new excuse to bring up their problemssometimes its the smog, sometimes noisy neighbours upstairs, sometimes the steep stairs in the block.
They dream of quiet, you know? he says once at dinner. Of peace, of a proper home.
Emily chews slowly, thinking. James never talks much; his sudden focus on his parents woes feels odd.
So what do you suggest? she asks cautiously.
Nothing special, he shrugs. Just thinking about them.
A week later Emily notices James entering her office more often than usual. At first he claims hes looking for documents; later he just lingers, measuring the room with his eyes.
Nice room, he remarks one evening. Bright, spacious.
Emily looks up from her papers. Theres something new in his tone, something like an appraisal.
Yes, I like working here, she answers.
You know, James says, moving to the window, maybe you could move your office to the bedroom? You could set up a workspace there too.
A tight knot forms inside Emily. She puts down her pen and looks directly at James.
Why should I move? Its comfortable here.
I dont know, he murmurs. Just thought about it.
The idea of moving wont leave her alone. She starts noticing how James scans the office, mentally rearranging furniture, lingering at the doorway as if already picturing a different layout.
Listen, he says a few days later, isnt it time to free up your office? Just in case.
The question sounds like a decision already made. Emily flinches.
Why should I free up the room? she asks, sharper than intended.
Just thinking, James hesitates. I thought we could have a spare room for guests.
She already sees the pattern. All the talk about his parents, all the casual remarks about the officeparts of one plan that never includes her opinion.
James, she says slowly, be straight with me. Whats going on?
He turns toward the window, avoiding her gaze. Silence stretches. Emily realises something has already been decided, without her.
James, she repeats firmly, whats happening?
He finally turns, his face flushed with embarrassment, but a flicker of resolve appears in his eyes.
My parents are really tired of the city hustle, he begins cautiously. They need peace, you know?
Emily rises from the desk. Anxiety builds, the kind shes tried to ignore for weeks.
And what do you suggest? she asks, already guessing.
Were one family, James says, as if that settles everything. We have an extra room.
Extra. Her office, her refuge, her spacenow an extra room. Emily clenches her fists.
This isnt an extra room, she says slowly. Its my office.
Yes, but you could work in the bedroom, James shrugs. My parents have nowhere else to go.
The line sounds rehearsed. Emily realises this isnt the first time this conversation has happenedjust not with her.
James, this is my house, she says sharply. I never agreed to your parents moving in.
But you dont mind, do you? he counters, irritation edging his voice. Were family, right?
Again the excusefamily. As if being family automatically silences her. Emily steps toward the window, trying to steady herself.
And what if I do mind? she asks without turning.
Dont be selfish, James snaps. Its about elderly people.
Selfish. For not giving up her workspace, for wanting a say. Emily turns back to him.
Selfish? she repeats. For wanting my opinion considered?
Come on, James waves his hand. Its a family duty. We cant abandon them.
Family duty. Another polished phrase meant to shut her down. But Emily is no longer willing to stay quiet.
And what about my duty to myself? she asks.
Stop dramatising, he brushes off. Its not a big deal, just move the computer to another room.
Not a big deal. All those years shes built the perfect office dismissed as trivial. Emily now sees James for the first time.
When did you decide everything? she asks quietly.
I didnt decide anything, he begins to defend himself. Just thinking about options.
Youre lying, she says. Youve already spoken to your parents, havent you?
Silence speaks louder than words. Emily sits back down, trying to process the betrayal.
So you consulted everyone except me, she states.
Stop it, James explodes. What difference does it make who talked to whom?
What difference. Her opinion, her consent, her homewhat difference. She realises hes acting like the owner, ignoring her rights.
The next morning James walks into the kitchen looking like a man whos made a final call. Emily sits at the table with a mug of tea, waiting for yesterdays conversation to continue.
Listen, he starts without preamble, my parents have finally decided to move.
Emily looks up. Theres no room for discussion in his tone.
Clear out a room in the house, now my parents will live there, he adds, as if giving an order.
For Emily this is a moment of revelation. They havent even consulted her. James doesnt just fail to askhe excludes her outright.
The mug trembles in her hands. Everything turns over as she recognises the scale of the betrayal. James stands waiting for her reaction, as if commanding a servant.
Are you serious? she says slowly. You just decided for me? I told you yesterday Im against it!
Calm down, he waves off. Its logical. Where else can they live?
Emily places the mug down and stands, her hands shaking with accumulated anger.
James, youve betrayed me, she says directly. You put your parents needs above our marriage.
Dont dramatise, he mutters. Its family.
And what am I, a stranger? Emilys voice sharpens. Youve crossed my boundaries and ignored my voice in my own home!
James turns away, clearly not expecting such a reaction. All these years shes obediently gone along with his decisions, but now something has broken.
You treat me like help, she continues. You decided I should endure and stay silent.
Stop the hysteria, he snaps, irritated. Nothing serious is happening.
Nothing serious. Her opinion dismissed, her space takennothing serious? Emily steps closer.
I refuse to give up my room, she declares firmly. And I wont let your parents move in without an invitation.
How dare you? James erupts. Theyre my parents!
And this is my house! Emily shouts. I wont live with a man who sees me as nothing!
James steps back, seeing her genuine rage for the first time. In her eyes burns a resolve he never noticed.
You dont understand, he says, confused. My parents are counting on us.
And you dont understand me, Emily cuts in. Ten years and you still treat me like a toy.
She walks across the kitchen, gathering her thoughts. Years of bottled words finally burst out.
You know what, James? she says, turning to him. Get out of my house.
What? he is taken aback. What are you talking about?
Im no longer willing to live with a man who doesnt consider me, Emily says slowly and clearly.
James opens his mouth but finds no words. He never expected this turn.
This is our house, he mumbles.
Legally the house is in my name, Emily reminds him coldly. I have every right to ask you to leave.
James stands as if he cant believe what hes hearing. Shock hits him; he realises hes crossed an invisible line.
Emily, lets talk calmly, he tries. We can reach an agreement.
Too late, she replies. The agreement should have been made before you decided.
James tries to object, but the stubborn look in her eyes makes the words stick in his throat. Emily is no longer the compliant wife who makes concessions for years.
Pack your things, she says calmly.
A week later Emily sits in her office enjoying the silence. The house feels larger without the strangers. The order she cherishes is finally restored.
She feels no regret, only a quiet satisfaction that she defended her boundaries and her selfrespect.
The phone rings. Its Jamess number. Emily lets it go to voicemail and returns to her work. Love and family are impossible without respect, and no sense of duty to relatives gives anyone the right to trample on the person beside them.
She finally understands.
