It’s your mother so its your duty! he declared, yet she had had enough. Eleanor buttoned her son’s coat, clenching her jaw to keep the fury at bay. Once more she faced the nightmare she dreaded most: a visit to her motherinlaw. From the first meeting their relationship had been a constant skirmish.
Agnes Whitaker had never accepted Eleanor as her son’s wife. Whatever Eleanor did, Agnes could always find a flaw, a fresh barb to hurl.
Again, Eleanor? Henry sighed, noting the tight set of her shoulders. You dont want to go, do you?
Eleanor let out a bitter chuckle.
Are you really asking me that, Henry? You know exactly why I wont go!
Her eyes flared.
Shell berate me again, tear me down, say Im raising our boy wrong! Shell claim Im not a proper mother, even though I work, run the house, cook, clean and foot every pound of the bills! Im the one holding this family together by sheer will!
But youre at home all day, Henry shrugged.
Eleanors gaze darkened.
Oh, really? You think I just sit idle, waiting for money to rain from the sky?
I work too, he growled. Its not my fault Im not paid more.
The truth was that Eleanor, a freelance designer, earned three times as much as Henry. She was the familys breadwinner.
Cant you go alone? she asked, hoping for a loophole.
Its Mothers Day, Eleanor! You cant ignore my mother!
She inhaled a sigh and finished dressing her son. Two hours later they stood at Agness front door.
In the sitting room, Henrys niece, Emily, was already perched on the settee. Eleanor had long sensed that Agnes favored Emily, treating her like royalty while barely acknowledging her own grandson. It was no surprise; Emilys parents had died five years earlier, and Agnes had raised her as her own child.
Around them, Agness sisters laughed boisterously, clinking their wine glasses.
Then, abruptly, Agnes dropped a bomb.
I have decided, she announced gravely. I will bequeath my flat to Emily. You, Henry, already have a home.
Henry didnt flinch. He simply nodded.
A few days later the paperwork was settled. The flat belonged to Emily, on the condition she could move in only after Agnes passed away.
But fate had other plans.
A sudden stroke left Agnes paralyzed, unable to tend to herself.
Well have to move in with Mum, Henry declared with finality. She cant be left alone.
A cold shiver ran through Eleanor. She understood the implication.
She would have to feed, dress, bathe her, while still working and caring for their son.
She said nothing.
Weeks slipped by, and Eleanors patience thinned.
One evening she finally erupted.
Henry, the flat belongs to Emily. Shouldnt she be looking after her mother?
Emily is at university, Henry. She has a boyfriend. Do you expect her to bring him here?
Eleanor let out a dry, icy laugh.
I cant take this any longer!
He crossed his arms.
Oh, I see. Youre already exhausted?
Her hands trembled with anger.
Im suffocating! Everything rests on me! YOU, your mother, our child, my job I CANT!
But you work from home, he murmured, smug.
Eleanors stare cut sharper than shattered glass.
And what of it? You think I dont really work?
Her heart pounded like a drum.
You know what? From now on its YOUR turn to look after your mother!
Its my mother, but shes also your motherinlaw! Its your role! You want me to wash her, perhaps?
A deathly silence fell.
Then, in a voice as cold as frost, Eleanor said,
I owe you nothing.
Henry chuckled.
In that case, hire a caregiver!
Oh? Youll pay for it?
Why should I foot the bill?
Then there wont be any caregiver.
He crossed his arms.
Use your mothers pension. Or your salary?
Henrys features hardened.
And why did I even marry a wife?
It was the spark.
Something inside Eleanor finally cracked, blindingly bright. She saw how Henry had used her for years.
And Emily? She had never even visited her grandmother.
That night Eleanor lay awake.
At dawn she knew what she had to do. The moment Henry left the house, she packed, took her son, and walked out.
She sent a single message, then blocked his number:
I will not bear this burden alone any more.
That evening Henry stormed in.
Either you come back, or Im filing for divorce!
Eleanor smiled softly.
Go ahead. I was about to.
For the first time Henry looked lost.
She wasnt waiting for apologies; her decision was set.
A month later their divorce was finalized. Henry never apologized.
And Eleanor?
She never regretted leaving.
Six months later she heard the news.
Agnes had died.
And Emily?
She threw Henry out without a flicker of remorse.
Only then did he understand.
He had lost everything.
