The air in the flat was thick with tension, like the moment before a thunderstorm. “If you dare argue, my boy will toss you right out onto the pavement,” the mother-in-law declared, as though shed forgotten whose home this truly was.
“Emily, bake a steak-and-kidney pie for supper tomorrow,” Margaret Harrington announced, sweeping into the kitchen and settling at the table with an air of entitlement. “Its been ages since Ive had a proper pieyoure always cooking these foreign dishes.”
Emily turned from the hob, where she was frying sausages for dinner. Her mother-in-law sat with that same pinched expression, fussing with the sleeves of her familiar maroon cardigan.
“I cant eat kidney, Margaret,” Emily 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 you, 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,” Emily said, shifting the pan to a cooler spot. “If I cook kidney, Ill have an allergic reaction. If you want it so badly, make it yourself.”
“Make it *myself*?” Margaret shot up from her chair. “Im not your skivvy! Youre the lady of the houseits your job to cook what I ask! And this allergy nonsense is just laziness. You cant be bothered with pastry!”
“Margaret, whats laziness got to do with it?” Emily faced her squarely. “I cook, clean, do the washingevery single day. But I wont make a steak-and-kidney pie because my body wont allow it!”
“Wont or *shant*?” Margaret took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “You think just because my son married you, you can lord it over me? Well see who really runs this household!”
Keys jangled in the hallWilliam was home. Margarets face crumpled into a mask of wounded dignity.
“Will, darling,” she rushed to him. “Thank heavens youre here. Your wifes grown quite above herself! I asked for a pie, and shes been downright rude to me!”
William hung up his coat and shot his wife a weary glanceshe stood by the hob, jaw tight.
“Emily, whats all this?” he asked, rubbing his temples. “Why wont you do as Mum asks?”
“Im allergic to kidney, Will,” Emily said quietly. “Ive explained it to Margaret.”
“Allergic? Since when?” William waved a hand. “Mum, dont fret. Emily will bake the pie tomorrow. Wont you, love?”
Emily looked at him, then at Margaret, who smirked in triumph. Her chest ached as though squeezed.
“No, I wont,” she said firmly, untying her apron and striding toward the bedroom. “Sort your own supper.”
The door clicked shut behind her. Muffled voices drifted through the wallsWilliam and his mother, chatting over their meal as if nothing had happened. As if she hadnt just vanished into thin air.
By morning, Emily rose before dawn. The flat was eerily silentMargaret still asleep. William sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through headlines, a half-drunk cuppa beside him.
“Will, we need to talk,” Emily said, clasping her hands. “Properly.”
He glanced up, brow furrowed.
“About what?”
“Your mother,” she inhaled. “Im done with the constant criticism. Margaret picks at everythinghow I cook, how I clean, even what I wear. I wont be ordered about in my ownin *our* home.”
“Emily, whats got into you?” William set his phone down. “Mums fine. Shes just set in her ways.”
“*Set in her ways*?” Emilys voice turned brittle. “Is that what you call bossing grown adults about? Will, maybe its time she found her own flat? Were youngwe need space.”
Williams mug hit the saucer with a clatter.
“Youd chuck my own mother *out*?” His voice turned flinty. “She asked to live with us, and youd toss her onto the streets?”
“I didnt say that,” Emily reached for him, but he pulled back. “Just somewhere separate. Wed help with rent”
“Not another word,” William stood, grabbing his briefcase. “Mums no trouble. If anything, she *helps*cooking, tidying”
“When does she *ever* cook?” Emily shot up. “Will, open your eyes! I work, come home, make dinner, scrub, launderwhile your mother *criticises*!”
“Enough,” he cut her off, yanking on his jacket. “Mum stays. End of.”
The door slammed. Emily stood alone, staring at his abandoned tea. The bitterness of the conversation clung to her like the dregs in the cup. She washed it slowly, set it to dry.
The injustice gnawed at her. Margaret had handed *her* flat to her daughter, then insisted on moving in with them. And William saw nothing wrong with it! Emily was sick of living under his mothers watch.
Half an hour later, Margaret glided into the kitchen, hair perfectly coiffed, robe primly fastened. Her lips pursed in disapproval.
“Well, what a performance last night,” she began without preamble. “Ungrateful, thats what you are. Thought my son would side with *you*?”
Emily sipped her tea, refusing to rise to the bait.
“See?” Margaret smirked, settling at the table. “My boy knows whos in charge here. And since thats settled, youll do as I say!”
Emily set her cup down harder than intended.
“Today, youll scrub this flat top to bottom,” Margaret continued. “Windows, floors, bathroomeverything gleaming. You prance about like Lady Muck, but this place is *filthy*!”
“It *isnt* filthy,” Emily muttered.
“Not filthy?” Margarets voice climbed. “I saw dust on the sideboard yesterday! The hallway mirrors smeared! Argue again, and Ill tell William you defy me!”
Something in Emily snappedlike a wire pulled too taut. She whirled on Margaret.
“*No*.” Her voice rang clear. “I wont. Ive obeyed you too long. Ive lost *myself* in this! Cooking your whims, cleaning on command, biting my tongue when you shout! *Enough*!”
Margaret lurched up. Her face purpled with outrage.
“How *dare* you? How *dare* you speak to me like that?”
Emily raised her voice.
“I *dare*! Im a person, not your drudge! And I wont take your nagging another day!”
“If you backchat, my son will throw you out!” Margaret shrieked, shaking a fist.
Then something in Emily broke freeyears of silence, months of humiliation, surging forth in one fierce wave. She straightened to her full height. Her voice rang so strong Margaret stumbled back.
“Youve forgotten whose flat this is! Forgotten who lets you live here! Who houses you rent-free, pays the bills, stocks the fridge! Let me remind youthis is *my* flat! Bought before marriage. Before I ever met your son!”
Margaret froze, mouth gaping. Clearly, she hadnt expected this.
But Emily wasnt finished.
“From today, youll *not* order me about. Or its *you* wholl be out on the street. Understood?”
For a moment, Margaret stood like stone. Then she flushed crimson, eyes narrowing to slits.
“How *dare* you?” she screeched. “Im your husbands *mother*! Im your *elder*! You *owe* me respect!”
“Respects *earned*,” Emily shot back. “And youve done nothing to earn it in all these months!”
“Ill tell William!” Margaret gasped. “Hell hear how you treat me!”
“Go ahead,” Emily folded her arms. “Just dont forget to mention you live here *for free*!”
Margaret spun on her heel and stormed off, slamming her bedroom door. Moments later, an aggrieved voice rosecalling William, no doubt. Fragments reached Emily: “*Disrespectful threatens me wants me gone*”
Emily finished her tea calmly, dressed for work. Let Margaret tattle. Today, shed spoken her truth.
That evening, William stormed in, face flushed with rage.
“What the *hell* is wrong with you?” he bellowed. “Mums told me everything! How *dare* you threaten her?”
“*Warn* her,” Emily corrected, hanging up her coat. “And
