This is my house, and I make the decisions here, declared my sister-in-law, rearranging the furniture in my room.
This is my house, and I make the decisions! The sharp, commanding voice cracked like a whip behind me.
Lena turned, still clutching the porcelain ballet figurinea fragile memory of her mother. In the doorway stood Zoe, tall and stiff, her cold eyes glaring. Her expression made it clear she believed she had every right to take charge.
I just wanted to put it on the shelf, Lena said softly, the familiar tightness of timidity closing around her throat.
The shelves are being rearranged too, Zoe snapped, gesturing broadly around the room. This furniture is old, bulky. A new sets arriving tomorrowlight, modern. This one, she nudged the dark oak dresser with her foot, can go to the summer house, unless my brother objects.
My brother. Always my brother. Simon. Lenas husband. His word, it seemed, no longer held any weight here.
Zoe, his elder sister, had moved in three weeks agoostensibly to stay awhile after a messy divorce. From day one, shed been pushing Lena out of her own life, slowly, methodically, like water eroding sand.
This side table definitely doesnt fit the new scheme, Zoe announced, grabbing the small table by the window, cluttered with Lenas books and poetry notebooks.
Wait! The word burst out before Lena could stop it. My things are on there.
Well pack everything neatly, Zoe said without turning, already sliding a stack of books to the floor. Theres plenty of spaceIve planned it all.
Lena watched in silence as this stranger sifted through her life, tossing it aside like rubbish. The air in the room turned thick, suffocating. She couldnt argue, couldnt find the words. Three years of marriage hadnt cured her childhood shyness, the fear of conflict beaten into her in foster care.
Dinner that evening was a tense, silent affair. Simon kept his eyes on his plate, avoiding his wifes gaze. He always withdrew at the first hint of an argument.
Simon, the new furnitureit must be expensive, Lena ventured carefully. Do we really need it? I liked the old pieces.
Lena, love, Zoe knows best, he muttered, poking at his mashed potatoes. Shes got an eye for design. Itll freshen the place up.
But its our room, Lena whispered, but her words drowned beneath Zoes crisp tone.
Exactlyfreshen it up, Zoe cut in, pushing her empty plate away. Youve got potential, Lena, but no boldness. A home reflects the soul. Its time you updated yours.
Her smile was saccharine, venomous. Lena felt her face flush. Her soul had no room for such ruthless force.
I dont want an update, she murmured.
Want it or not, youll live with beauty and order, Zoe stood, clattering plates loudly as she cleared the table. We start first thing. Simon, be free by ninethe furnitures arriving.
Simon only nodded, eyes still down.
Lena barely slept that night. She lay beside her snoring husband, staring at the ceiling, Zoes voice ringing in her ears: This is my house, and I make the decisions. It wasnt a whim. It was an ultimatum. A takeover.
Morning brought noise and chaos. Cardboard boxes and flat-pack furniture were hauled in. Two burly men, directed by Zoe, began dismantling Lenas room.
Careful! Lena cried as one bumped her beloved bookcase against the doorframe. The glass!
Relax, everythings under control! Zoe waved a printed floor plan dismissively.
Lena leaned against the hallway wall, an outsider at this celebration of change. Her belongingsbooks, trinkets, memorieswere stuffed into black bin bags and shoved aside. Simon had vanished, citing an urgent work call.
By noon, the room was empty. Bare walls, dusty floor marks where furniture once stoodit felt bleak, lifeless. Lena stepped inside. The air smelled of dust and loneliness.
Look at this space! Zoe strode in, beaming as if shed gifted the room a new existence. Once we assemble the new set, you wont recognise your little nest.
I dont recognise it now, Lena said quietly.
Oh, dont be dramatic! Zoe clapped her shoulderthe touch so false, Lena barely suppressed a flinch.
She watched as the men assembled the new furnituresleek, bright, chrome-handled. Stylish. Soulless. Not hers. Zoe dictated placement with sweeping gestures.
Sofa here, armchair opposite. And this she pointed to Lenas plant stand, has to go. Doesnt fit.
Wheres it going? Lenas voice cut clear and firmunfamiliar even to herself.
Zoe turned, startled.
Storage. Or the balcony. Those pots are outdated.
Theyre alive, Lena said. They stay.
Silence fell. The workmen paused, exchanging glances. Zoe straightened, eyeing her sister-in-law.
Lena, we agreed on a cohesive style.
I agreed to nothing. Lena stepped forward. Her hands trembled, but inside, something hardened. This is my room. My plants stay.
Darling, I just
And the furniture you call outdated? I bought it. With my money. Or am I not allowed a say in my own home?
Zoes mouth hung open. The quiet Lena had never spoken like this before. Even Lena hadnt known she could.
I just wanted whats best, Zoe faltered.
For whom? Lena pressed, momentum carrying her past the dam of fear. You? Youre a guest here, Zoe. A temporary one. And while you are, youll respect my house. My rules.
She glanced at the workmen.
Sorry, lads, but thats all for today. Leave it as it is.
The men hesitated, looking to Zoe.
Youre serious? She scoffed. Were nearly done!
I said leave. Lena touched the ficuss warm soil. You can go.
Zoe muttered something sharp, waving them off.
That evening, the storm broke. Simon returned to Zoes furious complaints.
Im trying to give them a fresh start, and your doormat of a wife throws a fit, sends the workers away, wastes money!
Simon slumped at the kitchen table. Lena set his dinner before him silently.
Lena, what happened? he asked wearily.
Nothing, she said calmly. I just stopped letting her walk over me.
Walk over me? Zoe shrilled. Im trying to live decently! She clings to her junk like a like a museum curator!
That junk is my life, Lena said, steel in her voice. And I wont let anyone toss it aside. No one.
Simon looked between them, exhaustion and something like surprise on his face.
Zoe, maybe it was too much change at once?
What? Zoe gaped. Simon! Im doing this for you! So you can have a beautiful home, like normal people!
We were normal before you came, Lena said quietly.
A heavy pause. Zoe seethed. Simon rubbed his forehead.
Fine, he sighed. Lets just figure it out. No more drastic changes.
Zoe stormed out.
Simon poked at his food.
Did you have to provoke her? Shes not herself after the divorce.
Neither am I, after her visits, Lena countered. Simon, this is our home. Yours and mine. We decide. Together.
He looked upreally looked at her, perhaps for the first time in yearsseeing not the shadow hed married, but a woman with defiance in her eyes.
Alright, he muttered. Ill talk to her.
But the talk clearly failed. Next morning, Zoe skipped breakfast. When Lena entered the living room, her belongings were back in the old furniture, dragged from the hallway. The room was a hybridhalf-new, half-old, her plant stand standing proud.
Not victory. A ceasefire. And Lena knew it wouldnt last.
Tension hung thick. Zoe waged guerrilla warfaremoving Lenas things, forgetting to clean, loudly praising friends who know how to keep a home and a husband. Lena endured, biding her time.
Then, Friday evening, Zoe announced:
Guests tomorrow. My friends. A housewarming.
Housewarming? Simon frowned.
Well, I live here now, Zoe smiled sweetly. Time to meet the neighbours. Three lovely ladies. So, Lena she turned, prepare something light but nice. And tidy up. The place is a mess.
Lena set down her spoon. She looked at
