Did she really say that? Gwen asked, looking at her husband.
Max nodded and took a sip from his mug. The tea was scalding, and he winced.
Exactly that. My sister wants Mum to transfer the twobed flat to her and move out because Victor has proposed. A young couple needs a place, you understand? Max said in a high, somewhat affected tone, clearly mimicking his sister.
Gwen stared at him, unable to believe her ears. It was absurd to demand a flat from ones parents, let alone for free.
What did Mum say? Gwen asked cautiously.
Max shook his head.
No clear answer. But I know Mum. She dotes on Sophie, so anythings possible.
Could a daughter really push her mother out of the only home she owned? Gwen would never have imagined asking her own parents for something like that. She had refused to take a loan for a deposit, saved every penny, bought a flat, and paid off the mortgage before she even married. It was her house, her property, and she was proud of it.
You know, Max continued, glancing away, Mum sold the cottage last year to fund Sophie’s tuition. And what happened? She dropped out in her second year. Turns out you actually have to study at university, can you believe it?
Gwen snorted.
Your sister never was much for perseverance.
Max fell silent. Gwen could see the tension in his shoulders, the grip on his mug tightening. What could she say? What advice could she offer? Family was always complicated.
Days turned into weeks. Max called Mum a few times, but the conversations were short and strained. Gwen stayed out of it, knowing it was his pain.
One Saturday they decided to visit his mother.
Max unlocked the door with his key. Gwen stopped on the threshold. The flat was buried under boxes, bags, folded blankets. Stuff was stacked against the walls, on the sofa, on the kitchen table. The whole place resembled a moving day disaster.
Mum? Max called as they stepped inside.
Nora stepped out of the hallway, her face drawn, shadows under her eyes. Gwen had never seen her mother-in-law look so exhausted.
Max, Gwen, come in, Nora whispered.
Max scanned the room and asked bluntly,
Are you giving the flat to Sophie?
Nora sighed, pulled a dishsoap box aside and sat on the edge of the sofa.
Itll be better that way, love. A young couple needs their own space. Victors a good lad, holds a steady job. I can manage.
Gwen stood beside them, her stomach twisting with anger. How could anyone hand over their only flat? Where would Nora go?
Where will you live? Max asked hoarsely.
Ill rent a room. My pension isnt much, but itll do. Dont worry about me.
Gwen saw Maxs complexion drain, his hands tremble, yet she said nothing. This wasnt her battle.
Two months later Nora was living in a modest rented flat in another borough. Max visited often, bringing groceries, medicines, helping with chores. Gwen didnt interfere; she understood he was coping.
One evening Max returned home, dejected and silent. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at nothing.
Whats wrong? Gwen asked, sitting opposite him.
Max lifted his eyes slowly.
Mum cant get by. My pension barely covers the rent and basics. Shes barely scraping together.
Gwen frowned.
Then she should move back into her flat.
The flats already in Sophies name, and she wont let Mum back in. She says theyre planning renovations and Mum would be in the way.
Gwen sensed where this was heading. Before Max could finish, he blurted,
We should take Mum in. We have a twobedroom flat; theres room.
His words echoed in Gwens mind. Our flat, she thought, but its my flat. She stayed quiet, allowing Max to convince himself, though every fibre of her being resisted. What could she say? Refusing to let in a mother that his sister had driven out would sound cruel.
Four days later Nora moved in with them. At first she was like a gentle dandelion, apologising constantly, promising not to be a burden.
Gwen tried to reassure herself that everything would be fine. They had never quarreled with her before. How could they start now?
After a week, things began to shift.
First, Gwens favorite mug vanished.
Nora, have you seen my blue mug with the flowers? Gwen asked.
Nora hesitated.
Oh, dear, Im sorry. I dropped it while washing dishes. Ill buy you a new one, I promise.
Gwen nodded. It happens.
The next day the expensive handcream Gwen bought from the boutique was gone.
Nora, have you seen my cream? Gwen asked.
Ah, that? Nora held up an empty pot. I used it on my feet. The air is so dry; my skin was cracking. Its a good cream, really.
Gwen clenched her teeth. She would just buy another.
The final straw was the meat. Gwen had bought a pricey fillet for steaks. When she got home, the skillet on the stove held greasy meatballs, and the mince was mostly breadcrumbs.
Nora, this is a premium cut, not for meatballs, Gwen tried to stay calm.
Nora turned from the stove.
I always do it like this. The meatballs came out brilliant, give them a try. Whats wrong?
Max, sitting in the lounge, pretended not to hear.
Weeks passed and Nora set her own rules. Breakfast was always porridge with a boiled egg. She instituted a mandatory Saturdaymorning deep clean at eight oclock. No going to bed after nine, even on weekends.
Gwen walked through the house, barely containing her fury. Max tried to soothe her, promising to talk to his mother, but nothing changed.
At dinner Gwen spread cottage cheese on toast, topped with a slice of tomato. She was exhausted from work and didnt feel like cooking anything elaborate.
You have no taste, Gwen, Nora scoffed. Thats what you eat?
Gwen lifted her head slowly.
Im fine with my meal.
Youre ruining my son with your habits, Nora snapped. Max watches you and thinks its okay to be lazy, not to wash dishes right away, not to iron clothes. I raised him to be orderly. Youre undoing all my efforts.
Gwens patience snapped.
Ive had enough, she said coldly. I tried to respect your age, to stay quiet when you broke my things, used my cosmetics, spoiled my food. But no more. If its this bad, go back to the flat you gave to my sister. Dont stay in the house I bought with my own money.
Gwen! Max leapt up. What are you saying?!
Exactly what I think! Gwen turned to him. I have my own rules too, and the first one is: your mother will not live in my house!
Noras face turned ashen.
Max! Do you hear what your wife is saying? Stop her!
Mum, Gwen, lets calm down, Max tried to mediate.
No! Gwen stared at Nora. Let her pack up and leave. I dont care where she goes.
We cant kick my mother out! Max shouted. Do you understand what youre saying?
Gwens laugh came out hoarse, bitter.
You cant, but I can. By evening she wont be here.
Max straightened, his face turning stonecold.
If she leaves, Ill go too.
Gwen held Maxs gaze for a long moment.
Oh, have we come to ultimatums? You quickly forgot you promised to keep your mother calm. You asked me to be patient, and now you set conditions? Well played, Max.
Nora burst into tears and fled down the hallway. Max stood in the kitchen, stunned.
They began packing silently, slowly. Gwen did not help; she sat at the kitchen table, looking out the window at the empty street, a strange, cold calm settling over her.
After an hour, Max and Nora emerged in the hallway, suitcases and bags in hand. Max opened the front door, letting his mother go first, then turned to Gwen.
Gwen, lets
She cut him off.
If you still dont understand that a mother loves her daughter and uses you, its better we part now, before she completely seeps into our lives.
She shut the door firmly in his face.
Taking the motherinlaw in had been a mistake. Now Gwen saw the truth: Max could never stand up to his mother, and their marriage had no future.
They divorced quietly, with no children or shared assets. Max looked at her with pleading eyes, begging forgiveness, promising never to involve his mother again. But Gwen had learned that some chances are not worth taking.
In the end, she realized that love that asks you to abandon your own home and dignity is not love at all; it is a burden that only erodes the soul.
