**Diary Entry – 12th May**
*”You asked me not to interfere,”* my husband said, and left for his mothers.
She sat on the edge of the sofa, wearing that grey knitted jumper shed made for herself a year ago while he was illwarm, with cable stitches down the sides. Her hands rested on her knees as if nailed there.
*”Are you serious?”* she asked, voice steady. *”Youre leaving? Now?”*
*”When else?”* he replied. *”Before you decide how I should live again? Before you tell me what to do?”*
*”I never told you how to live,”* she said. *”I just said your mother oversteps. She calls every day, turns up unannounced, touches my things, crosses every line.”*
*”You said I had to choose,”* he reminded her. *”Her or you.”*
*”I never said that,”* she countered. *”I asked you to talk to her. To explain were a family. That we have our own life. Not to choose.”*
*”You said, Its her or me,”* he insisted, setting his suitcase down. *”I remember every word. You shouted it in the kitchen when she brought strawberries we never asked for. She acts like this is her house! When will it end?!”*
*”Yes, I shouted,”* she admitted. *”Because she arrived at six in the morning, woke us up, dumped the berries on the table, said, You ought to wash these windows, lovetheyre filthy, then marched into the bathroom like she lived here. I dont mind guests, but I need my own space. Is that a crime?”*
*”You called her that woman,”* he said. *”That womans here again. That woman wont leave. I heard it every time she left.”*
*”I didnt use her name because she didnt act like a guest,”* she said. *”She acted like the lady of the house. And me? Like a lodger. You saw how she rearranged the furniture, moved your things, cleared my books off the shelf because they cluttered the place.”*
*”She just tries to help,”* he muttered, but his voice wavered.
*”Help?”* She laughed bitterly. *”When she shrank my wool dress in the wash? When she threw out my medicine because its full of chemicals? When she told the neighbours I was having a breakdown? Thats help?”*
He fell silent, staring at the floor.
*”I never asked you to choose,”* she repeated. *”I asked you to stand by me. To defend us. And you stayed silent. Every time. You let her talk down to me, interfere, treat me like an outsider. And when I finally said enough, you walk out? Just like that?”*
*”You dont understand,”* he said. *”Shes all I have left. Dads gone, my sisters abroadIm her only support. And you want me to say, Mum, youre not needed anymore?”*
*”I dont want that,”* she said quietly. *”I want you to say, Mum, we love you, but were a family too. Visit when we invite you. Call before you come. Respect my wifes things. Is that so hard?”*
*”You dont know how she was after Dad died,”* he said. *”Shes fragile. Needs stability.”*
*”And me?”* she asked. *”Dont I need stability? Dont I deserve a home where Im not a stranger?”*
He didnt answer. Picked up his suitcase and walked to the door.
*”Will you come back?”* she asked.
*”I dont know,”* he said. *”Not until you see I cant choose between you.”*
The door clicked shut. The flat fell silent, save for the ticking hallway clock.
She didnt cry. Just sat there, staring at their wedding photo on the wallhim in a suit, her in long sleeves, smiling by a fountain, guests cheering behind them. It felt like another life.
Hed always been gentle. Never raised his voice. But hed never stood up for her either. His mother was sacred. A saint. A victim. And if anyone disagreed, they were the problem.
Theyd married ten years ago. She, a widow; he, a bachelor. His mother had accepted her coolly at first, then with suspicion, then outright disdain.
*”Youre four years older,”* shed said at their first meeting. *”What if you cant have children?”*
*”Were not planning to,”* shed replied.
*”But what if you change your mind?”* his mother pressed. *”Late babies run weak in our family. I know what Im talking about.”*
Shed wanted to leave. But hed said, *”Give her time. Shes just protective.”*
Shed told herself, *”Itll get better. People adjust.”*
They never did.
Two days later, the neighbour called.
*”Claire, did you know? Your husbands moved to his mums. Took his things. Is it for good?”*
*”I dont know,”* she said.
*”And that battle-axe of yours was round yours today. Broom in hand, taking out bins. Said you were too poorly to clean.”*
Claire went cold. *”She was in my house? She doesnt have keys.”*
*”Oh, she does,”* the neighbour said. *”Saw her lock up with her own after she left.”*
Claire hung up, grabbed her coat, and went home. The door was locked. She fumbled with her key. Inside, the hall smelled of lavenderhis mothers cleaning spray.
Everything was in place, but wrong. The rug was crooked. A vase was missing from the shelf.
She checked the bedroom. His wardrobe was empty, save for a few old shirts. Her drawers were shut, but her comb wasnt where shed left it.
She sat on the bed. Didnt cry. Just thought, *”Hes gone. And shes still here. In my home. With my keys.”*
The next day, she went to his mothersa pebbledash house on the outskirts. The woman answered the door, smiling sweetly.
*”Oh, Claire dear. Come in. Andrews home.”*
*”Im not here for Andrew,”* Claire said. *”Im here for my keys.”*
His mother feigned confusion but let her in. *”Tea?”*
*”No. You were in my house yesterday. Cleaning. Without permission.”*
*”I didnt touch your house,”* the woman said airily. *”I was helping my son. Hes distressed. Thanks to you.”*
*”I didnt distress him,”* Claire said. *”I asked him to protect our marriage. And he ran to you.”*
*”You gave him an ultimatum,”* his mother shot back. *”Me or you. What choice did he have?”*
*”I never said that,”* Claire said. *”I asked him to talk to you. Respectfully. Like family. And he stayed silent. Every time. You know it.”*
*”I know he loves me,”* the woman said. *”And you tried to take him away.”*
*”I wanted him to be a husband, not a son,”* Claire said. *”To defend his wife, not flee to his mum at every bump in the road.”*
*”There were no bumps,”* his mother sneered. *”Just you. Your nagging. Your dont touch my things.”*
*”Because theyre mine,”* Claire said. *”I had a life before him. A home, a job, friends. I married him because I loved him. Not to be your maid.”*
*”Youre not a maid,”* the woman said. *”Youre my sons wife. And wives are part of the family.”*
*”Family isnt just you and him,”* Claire said. *”Its us. And if you cant respect that, youre not family. Youre a stranger.”*
The woman paled. *”Youre mad.”*
*”No,”* Claire said. *”Im finally awake. The keys, please.”*
Silently, the woman fetched them from a drawer. *”I wont give him up.”*
*”Hes not a toy,”* Claire said. *”Hes a grown man. Let him decide where he belongs.”*
A week later, a solicitors letter arrived. The house was in his name, but she
