Are you serious? Emily asked, echoing her husbands words.
James gave a small nod, took a sip from his mug, and winced. The tea was scalding.
Yes, exactly that. My sister has demanded that Mum transfer the twobed flat to her name and move out because Victor has proposed to her. A young couple needs somewhere to live, you see? James said in a high, affected tone, mimicking his sister.
Emily stared at him, hardly believing her ears. It was beyond reasondemanding a parents home as if it were a gift?
What did Mum say? Emily asked cautiously.
James shook his head.
Theres no clear answer yet. But I know Mum, and I know how much she dotes on Sarah. So anythings possible. He paused, eyes drifting toward the window. You know, years ago Mum sold the cottage to fund Sarahs university fees. And what happened? She dropped out in her second year. Turns out you actually have to study, can you imagine?
Emily snorted.
Your sister never was the studious type.
James fell silent. Emily could see the tension in his shoulders, the grip on his mug. What could she say? What advice could she offer? Family was always a tangled knot.
Days turned into weeks. James called Mum several times, but each conversation was brief and strained. Emily stayed out of it, recognising that this was his story, his pain.
One Saturday they decided to visit Jamess mother.
James slipped the key into the lock. Emily lingered on the threshold, eyes widening at the chaos inside. Boxes, bags, rolledup blankets crowded the walls, the sofa, the kitchen tablean entire flat in the midst of a move.
Mum? James called as he stepped in.
Margaret Andrews emerged from the hallway, face drawn, shadows under her eyes. Emily had never seen her mother look so exhausted.
James, Emma, come in, Margaret said softly.
James scanned the room, then asked straight away, Are you giving the flat to Sarah?
Margaret sighed, lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa, pushing a stack of dishes aside.
Itll be better this way, love. A young couple needs their own place. Victors a good lad, he works. I can manage elsewhere.
Emily stood apart, her gut clenched. How could anyone give away the only flat they owned? Where would Margaret go?
Where will you live then? James asked hoarsely.
Ill rent a small room. My pension isnt much, but itll cover me. Dont worry about me, Margaret replied.
Emily saw Jamess face turn pale, his hands tremble. She said nothing; it wasnt her battle.
Two months later Margaret was living in a rented flat in another part of town. James visited often, bringing groceries, medicine, helping with the bills. Emily offered no objections, simply understood that her husband was still hurting.
One evening James returned home, shoulders slumped, silence hanging over him. He sat at the kitchen table and stared at a point on the wall.
Whats wrong? Emily asked, sitting opposite him.
James lifted his eyes slowly. Mum cant get by. My pension doesnt stretch to rent and living costs. Shes just scraping the ends together.
Emily frowned. Then she should move back into her flat.
The flats already in Sarahs name. She wont let Mum back in. She says they and Victor are planning renovations and Mum would be in the way.
Emily sensed where the conversation was heading, already hearing the next line. As if reading her thoughts, James continued, Maybe we should take Mum in. We still have our twobed flat. Itll be enough space.
His words echoed in Emilys mind. It was her flat, her hardwon property. Yet she stayed silent, allowing James to persuade himself, even as every fibre of her being resisted. What could she say? That she didnt want to welcome a mother who had been driven out by her own daughter? That would be cruel.
Four days later Margaret moved in with them. On the first day she was like a gentle dandelion, apologetic and grateful, promising not to be a burden.
Emily convinced herself that everything would settle. They had never quarreled with Margaret before; why start now?
But a week passed and things began to shift.
First, Emilys favourite blue mug vanished.
Margaret, have you seen my mug? The one with the daisies? Emily asked.
Margaret hesitated. Oh, darling, Im sorry. I dropped it while washing the dishes. Ill buy you a new one, I promise.
Emily nodded. Accidents happen.
The next day the expensive hand cream Emily kept in a silver jar was gone.
Margaret, have you any idea where my cream went? Emily inquired.
Margaret held up an empty pot. I used it on my feet, love. The airs been terribly dry, and I needed something soothing.
Emily clenched her jaw. She would simply replace it.
The final straw was the meat. Emily had bought a premium ribeye for a dinner of steaks. Returning from work she found a pan on the stove filled with greasy patties, the mince mixed with more bread than beef.
Margaret, Emily said as calmly as she could, this is expensive meat. Its not meant for cheap burgers.
Margaret turned from the stove. I always do it this way. These patties are lovely, give them a try. Whats the harm?
James, lounging in the living room, pretended not to hear.
In the weeks that followed Margaret imposed a strict routine. Breakfast became oatmeal and a boiled egg. Once a week she conducted a thorough house cleaning, always on Saturday at eight oclock sharp. Lights out was nine, even on weekends.
Emily moved through the flat, barely holding back fury. James tried to soothe her, begging patience, promising to speak with Margaret. Nothing changed.
At dinner Emily spread cottage cheese on a slice of bread, added a tomato slice. She was exhausted from work and didnt feel like cooking anything elaborate.
Margaret frowned. You have no taste, Emma. Thats what you eat?
Emily lifted her head slowly. It suits me.
Youre ruining my son with your habits, Margaret snapped, voice rising.
Emily froze, sandwich in hand.
Yes, you are, Margaret pressed on, gaining momentum. James looks at you and thinks its acceptable to be lazy, to ignore the dishes, to let the laundry pile up. I raised him differently. I taught him order and neatness. Youre undoing all my effort.
Emilys patience finally snapped.
Ive endured enough, she said coldly. I tried to respect your age, kept silent while you broke my things, used my cosmetics, spoiled my food. But Ive had my fill. If its this bad, you can go back to the flat that you gave away to your daughter. Dont stay in the house I bought with my own money.
Emma! James leapt up. What are you saying?
What I think! she shot back at him. I have my own rules, and the first one is: your mother will not be in my house!
Margarets face turned ashen.
James! Do you hear what your wife is saying? Stop her! James pleaded.
Mother, Emma, lets calm down, he tried to mediate.
No! Emily glared at Margaret. She can pack and leave. I dont care where.
We cant kick my mother out! James shouted, his voice cracking. Do you understand what youre saying?
Emily laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. You cant. But I can. By evening, shell be gone.
James sat up straight, his expression hard as stone. If she leaves, Ill leave too.
Emily held his gaze for a long moment. Oh, have we really sunk to ultimatums? You forgot the promise you made to keep your mother calm. You asked me to be patient, and now you set conditions? Well played, James.
Margaret burst into tears and fled down the hallway. James stood in the kitchen, stunned.
They began to gather Margarets belongings slowly, in silence. Emily didnt help; she stayed at the kitchen window, watching the empty room, feeling a strange, cold calm settle over her.
After an hour James and Margaret emerged into the hallway, suitcases and bags in hand. James opened the front door, letting his mother step out first, then turned to Emily.
Emma, lets
Emily cut him off. If you still dont understand that Mum loves only her daughter and uses you, its best we part ways now, before she roots herself deeper into our lives.
She walked to the door and slammed it shut in Jamess face.
Taking Margaret out was a mistake, but now Emily saw clearly: James could not stand up to his mother, and that meant there was no future for their marriage.
The divorce went quietly. There were no children, no shared assets. James looked at her with sorrowful eyes, begging for forgiveness, promising never to involve his mother again. Emily, however, had long stopped giving anyone a second chance.
