The tension in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with a knife. “If you dare argue, my son will toss you out on the pavement,” the mother-in-law snapped, conveniently forgetting whose flat this was.
“Charlotte, bake a steak and kidney pie for supper tomorrow,” Margaret Harrington declared, sweeping into the kitchen and settling at the table. “I havent had a proper home-cooked meal in agesyoure always serving up these odd foreign dishes.”
Charlotte turned away from the hob, where she was frying sausages for dinner. Her mother-in-law sat with her usual pinched expression, fussing with the hem of her worn-out cardigan.
“I cant eat kidney, Margaret,” Charlotte replied evenly, flipping a sausage. “I wont be making it.”
“What do you mean, you wont?” Margarets voice turned sharp as a blade. “Ive asked politely, and you refuse? Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that? In my day, daughters-in-law knew their place!”
“This isnt about respect,” Charlotte said, shifting the pan to a cooler burner. “If I cook kidney, Ill have a reaction. Make it yourself if youre that bothered.”
“Make it myself?” Margaret shot up from her chair. “Im not your skivvy! Youre the lady of the houseact like it! And this allergy nonsense is just an excuse. You cant be bothered to roll out pastry!”
“Margaret, whats laziness got to do with it?” Charlotte turned to face her. “I cook, clean, do the laundrybut I wont make a pie thatll make me ill!”
“Wont or cant?” Margaret took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “You think just because my son married you, you can push me around? Well see whos really in charge here!”
Keys jingled in the hallwayWilliam was home. Margarets face instantly crumpled into a wounded expression.
“Will, love,” she rushed to him. “Thank heavens youre here. Your wifes been downright disrespectful! I asked for a simple pie, and shes mouthing off at me!”
William hung up his coat and gave Charlotte a weary glanceshe stood by the hob, jaw tight.
“Charlotte, whats all this?” he asked, smoothing his tie. “Why wont you help Mum?”
“Im allergic to kidney, Will,” Charlotte said quietly. “Ive explained it to Margaret.”
“Allergic? Since when?” William waved a hand. “Mum, dont fret. Charlotte will make the pie tomorrow. Wont you, darling?”
Charlotte stared at her husband, then at Margaret, who smirked triumphantly. Her chest ached with betrayal.
“No, I wont,” she said firmly, untying her apron and walking out. “Sort your own supper.”
She shut the bedroom door behind her. Muffled voices drifted through the wallWilliam and his mother chatting over their meal as if nothing had happened. As if she hadnt just crumpled onto the bed, tears soaking the pillow.
The next morning, Charlotte rose early. Margaret was still asleepthe flat was oddly silent. William sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through news on his phone, a mug of tea steaming beside him.
“Will, we need to talk,” Charlotte said, sitting across from him, fingers laced tight. “Properly.”
He glanced up, brow furrowed.
“About what?”
“Your mother,” she inhaled sharply. “Ive had enough of the constant criticism. Nothing I do is rightnot the cooking, the cleaning, even how I dress. I wont be ordered about in my own home.”
“Charlotte, dont be daft,” William set his phone down. “Mums fine. Shes just set in her ways.”
“Her ways?” Charlottes voice turned brittle. “Is that what you call bullying? Will, maybe its time she found her own place. We could help with rent”
William slammed his mug down.
“Are you suggesting we kick my mother out?” His voice turned icy. “She asked to live with us, and youd toss her to the curb?”
“Im saying she needs her own space,” Charlotte reached for him, but he pulled back. “Were youngwe deserve privacy.”
“Not another word,” William stood, straightening his cufflinks. “Mum stays. End of discussion.”
The front door slammed behind him. Charlotte sat alone, staring at his half-finished tea. The bitterness clung to her throat. She washed the mug slowly, setting it on the rack to dry.
The injustice gnawed at her. Margaret had given her own flat to her daughter, then insisted on moving in with them. And William acted as if it were perfectly normal! Charlotte was tired of living under his mothers scrutiny.
Half an hour later, Margaret appeared, hair perfectly coiffed, dressing gown cinched tight. Her lips pursed in disapproval.
“Well, that was quite the performance,” she sniffed. “Thought my boy would take your side, did you?”
Charlotte sipped her tea, ignoring the jab.
“See?” Margaret continued, settling at the table. “He knows whos in charge. And since thats settled, youll do as I say.”
Charlotte set her cup down harder than intended.
“Today, youll scrub this flat top to bottom,” Margaret ordered. “Windows, floors, the loospotless. You swan about like royalty, but this place is filthy!”
“Its not filthy,” Charlotte muttered.
“Not filthy?” Margarets voice rose. “I saw dust on the mantel yesterday! The hall mirrors streaked! Keep arguing, and Ill tell William youre disrespecting me!”
Something in Charlotte snapped. A taut wire finally frayed beyond repair. She turned sharply.
“No,” her voice was steel. “I wont. Ive obeyed you long enough. Ive lost myself in this! Cooking your meals, scrubbing on command, biting my tongue when you shoutno more!”
Margaret shot up, face flushing crimson.
“How dare you?” she shrieked. “You ungrateful little”
“I dare!” Charlottes voice cracked like a whip. “Im a person, not your servant! I wont take another snide remark!”
“Keep this up, and my son will throw you out!” Margaret screeched, shaking a bony finger.
And then Charlotte broke. Years of silence, months of humiliation, spilled over in a single, unstoppable wave. She drew herself up tall. Her voice carried such force that Margaret stumbled back.
“Youve forgotten whose flat this is! Forgotten who let you live here rent-free, who pays the bills, who puts food on your plate! Let me remind youthis is my flat! Mine, bought before I ever met your son!”
Margaret gaped, speechless.
But Charlotte wasnt finished.
“From today, youll keep your opinions to yourself. Or it wont be me leavingitll be you. Clear?”
For a moment, Margaret stood frozen. Then her face twisted in fury.
“You vile girl!” she spat. “Im his mother! Youll show me respect!”
“Respects earned,” Charlotte shot back. “And youve done nothing to deserve it!”
Margaret stormed off, slamming her bedroom door so hard the windows rattled. Muffled shouting followedno doubt a frantic call to William.
Charlotte finished her tea, collected her bag, and left for work. Let Margaret tattle. For the first time in years, shed spoken her truth.
That
