The door swung open before I could reach the hallway. There stood Margaret Whitmore, my mother-in-law, framed in the doorway. Behind her, like a timid shadow, hovered a slender girl with frightened doe-like eyes.
“Were here to see James,” Margaret announced without greeting, stepping inside. The scent of expensive perfume and the chill of a January morning clung to her. The girl followed awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in her plain boots.
“James isnt home yethes at work,” I said, instinctively tightening the belt of my dressing gown.
“Thats fine. Well wait. We cant exactly stand outside, can we?”
Margaret strode straight into the living room, gesturing for her companion to sit on the sofa. She settled into an armchair opposite, hands folded primly on her handbag. Her gaze swept the roomcold, appraisingas if taking inventory of my home, my life.
“Eleanor, meet Annabelle. My old friends daughter from Devon.”
I nodded, still uncomprehending. A guest? A distant relative?
“Annabelle will be staying with us. Ive decided.”
The air in the room grew thick. I looked from Margaret to the girl, who seemed to wish she could vanish into the sofa.
“Staying with ushow?”
“In the literal sense,” Margaret leaned forward slightly. “James needs a proper wife. A homemaker. A mother for his future children. Not a part-time career woman.”
She said it so casually, as if discussing a new set of curtains. As if I, Jamess actual wife, didnt exist.
“I dont understand what youre saying,” my voice sounded foreign, hoarse.
“Whats unclear? Look at yourself. All you care about is meetings, projects, promotions. And whats at home? Emptiness. My son comes back from work to a house that smells of paperwork, not dinner. He needs care. Annabelle will provide that. Shes a lovely girlmodest, well-mannered. Cooks like an angel.”
The girl on the sofa hunched her shoulders, her cheeks flushed crimson. She was a pawn in someone elses game, terrified of her own role.
“You cant just bring another woman into our homethis is insane.”
“Im his mother, I know what he needs!” Margaret snapped. “I gave him life, and I wont let you ruin it. You youre a temporary mistake. One Ill help him correct.”
Id always tried to please her, to smooth things over. And this was where it ledbeing evicted from my own life like a failed housemaid.
Then the lock turned. James walked in.
He froze in the hallway, taking in the unexpected guests. His gaze flickered over his mother, lingered on the frightened Annabelle, then found me. My eyes must have said it allthe absurdity, the hurt, the humiliation.
Silently, James hung up his coat. No questions needed. He understood. Then he walked past his mothers chair, past the sofa, straight to me. He stopped in front of me and pulled me into a firm embrace. His arms were my lifeline, narrowing the world to just us two.
“James, what is this?” Margarets voice cut through the tension. It wasnt a questionit was a command.
He didnt turn. Didnt let go.
“It means, Mother, that youve walked into my home. And this” He tightened his hold. “is my wife, Eleanor.”
His tone was calm, but steel laced his words. Margaret rose slowly from her chair, and I knew the battle had just begun.
“I can see shes your wife! Thats why Im here! Im saving you! This woman is dragging you down! Annabelle” She gestured sharply to the sofa, “is a good, modest girl. Shell be your true support!”
“Mother, I dont need saving. Or a new wife.” James finally stepped back but took my hand, threading our fingers together. “Please take Annabelle and go.”
“Go?” Margaret scoffed darkly. “You dont understand. Ive made arrangements with her parentsthey trust me! Shes got nowhere to go! Do you want to shame me? Humiliate this innocent girl?”
Annabelle lifted tear-filled eyes to James, whispering something inaudible. The manipulation was crude but calculated. Margaret was painting him as a monster, ready to cast out a helpless waif.
“We can call her a taxi. Pay for a hotel,” I tried, my voice shaking.
“You stay out of this!” Margaret barked. “You no longer have a say here! This is between mother and son!”
James squeezed my hand tighter. “Dont you dare speak to my wife like that.”
“Oh, your wife!” She drawled. “For how long? Ill have my way eventually. Youll come to your sensesbut itll be too late.”
She sank back into the chair, making it clear she wasnt leaving.
“Im staying. Annabelle too. You need time to think, James. Morning brings wiser thoughts. Well sleep in the guest room.”
It was a tactical move. She was locking us into an unbearable standoff, turning our home into a battleground.
“Fine,” James said quietly, and my heart clenched. “One night.”
Margarets lips curled in a barely-there smirk. I knewthis wasnt compromise. It was war.
The night was long. We shut ourselves in the bedroom. James sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
“Why did you agree?” I whispered.
“Because I know her,” he said grimly. “If I threw her out now, shed make such a scene the neighbors would call the police. Shed lie at the doorstep, call every relative, claim wed kicked her and a poor orphan into the cold. Itd be her victory. This way, I have till morning.”
He looked up.
“Eleanor, I dont know what shes told that girl or her parents. But I cant just toss her out at midnight. Tomorrow, well handle this properly. As for Mother well talk later.”
In the morning, I went to the kitchen for waterand froze. Margaret was already there, setting out our wedding china. Annabelle sliced bread.
“Good morning, Eleanor,” Margaret cooed. “Were making breakfast. Annabelles such a treasure. Not like some.”
Her words were a direct jab. But the real blow came next.
In the living room, I found the finale of her performance. On the coffee table, where our wedding photo always sat, now stood a cheap vase. And Margaret held our framed picture in her hands.
“Here, Annabelle, put this away,” she said, handing it over. “Just leave it by the wall. Well toss it later. No need to dwell on the past.”
Annabelle, pale as a sheet, took the frame with trembling hands. She didnt want to, but defiance wasnt an option.
And thats when James walked in. Dressed for work, he took in the scenehis mothers triumphant smirk, Annabelle clutching our photo, me rooted by the door.
His face changed. Calm gave way to icy, controlled fury.
He walked to Annabelle. “Put it down.”
She hastily set the photo on the floor.
Then he turned to his mother. Stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“Mother.”
“Yes, darling?” She still smiled, confident in her power. “Finally see reason?”
He came to me, took my hand, and led me to stand before her.
“Mother, you spent my whole life teaching me to be a man. To stand by my word, to protect my family.”
He paused, and his voice turned to stone.
“Well, heres the truth. I could divorce Eleanor. I could even fall for someone else. But I will neverneverbe with a woman you bring into my home. That choice is mine. And your son died the day you decided to live his life for him.”
Each word struck like a slap. Margarets smile dissolved into confusion, then horror. She looked at him as if he spoke a barbaric tongue. Her posture crumbled; suddenly, she was just an old, broken woman.
“How how could you?” she whisperedno command now, just shattered disbelief. “I only wanted whats best”
“Your best ruins my life,” James said calmly. He opened the door wide. “Please leave.”
Annabelle moved first. She grabbed her purse, mumbled apologies”She said you were divorced, that you wanted me”and fled.
Margaret stood alone. She rose unsteadily, leaning on the chair. Her movements were frail, ancient. At the door, she turned.
“Youll regret this,” she said hollowlyno threat left, just bitterness.
James didnt reply. His silence was answer enough.
She broke first. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she hurried to the lift.
James closed the door. The lock clicked.
