“Mom matters more to me than you do,” said the man, taking his salary.
“Mom matters more to me than you,” said Edward, slipping his pay card into his jacket pocket. “And if you dont like it, you can pack your things.”
Emily stood by the kitchen sink, stunned. A wet plate slipped from her fingers and shattered against the tiled floor, fragments scattering everywhere.
“Eddie, what are you saying?” She turned to face him. “All I asked was to leave half your salary for groceries. Our fridge is empty.”
“Mums struggling too,” Edward snapped, buttoning his jacket. “She needs medicine, bills paid. You only think about yourself.”
Emily crouched to gather the shards, hands trembling. A sharp edge sliced her finger, drawing blood.
“I dont mind helping your mum, Eddie. But *we* need to eat too. Pay the electric bill.”
“Youve got a job,” he tossed back, heading for the door. “Live off that.”
“Half of what you earn! I pay Lucys nursery fees, buy her clothes, shoes”
Edward paused in the doorway.
“Mum raised me alone. Dad died at the factory when I was eight. She worked two jobs to put me through university. Now its my turn to care for her.”
“But she gets her pension,” Emily argued. “Weve got a child.”
“Pensions pennies. And shes your daughter too, by the way.”
The door slammed. Emily was left with a bleeding finger and broken pieces on the floor.
From the nursery came soft cries. Three-year-old Lucy had woken. Emily bandaged her finger and hurried in.
“Mummy, Im scared,” Lucy sniffled. “Daddy shouted.”
“Dont worry, sweetheart,” Emily whispered, lifting her. “Daddys just tired. Its okay.”
But nothing was okay. Rain tapped the window, the flat was coldheating still off, and Emily skimped on the heater. Her purse held £20 till payday. Enough for petrol to work and basics.
Lucy dozed in her arms. Emily laid her back down and returned to the kitchen. Each shard she picked up felt like a stab in the heart.
Shed met Edward six years ago at the accounting firm where she worked. Hed been the new programmertall, serious, well-read. Recited poetry. At twenty-four, hed seemed her prince.
Hed confessed early: lived with his mum, helped her out. Emily found it endearingwhat a devoted son. His mother had been cool at the wedding, but Emily tried: gifts, help with chores during visits.
Things worsened after Lucys birth. Edward spent more time at his mums, claiming she was unwell. Emily didnt protesther maternity pay was meagre, his salary covered them all.
But when she returned to work, his mum complained: the neighbour got a new telly, hers was broken; the doctor prescribed pricey pills her pension couldnt cover.
Edward gave her morefirst a third, then half his pay. Emily broached it gentlythey needed funds too. He called her selfish.
Today, hed said the words that changed everything: *Mom matters more.*
Emily finished cleaning and opened her budgeting notepad. Rent: £450. Nursery: £200. Bare-minimum groceries: £300. Her salary: £900. The numbers didnt add up.
Her phone rang. Her best mate, Claire.
“Em, you alright? Youve gone quiet.”
“Fine,” Emily lied.
“Your voice says otherwise. Whats happened?”
Emily cracked. Told her about the salary, the £20, his words.
“Are you *kidding* me?” Claire hissed. “Hes lost the plot! Cant provide for his own family?”
“Claire, his mums alone. Its hard for her”
“And youre not? Raising Lucy solo while he plays dutiful son? Bet shes milking it.”
After hanging up, Emily felt calmerbriefly. Edward returned that evening, smug.
“Got Mum a new telly,” he announced, hanging his coat. “She was over the moon.”
“With what money?” Emily asked quietly.
“Mine. Problem?”
“Weve no milk for Lucy tomorrow. Or bread.”
“Buy it. Isnt that what your wages are for?”
“Rent and nursery. You *know* that.”
Edward scowled. “Always whinging. Mum gave me *everything*you just count pennies.”
“Im counting for our *daughter*!”
“Shes mine too. But Mum comes first.”
Emily went to bed fully dressed, tears soaking the pillow. She remembered childhood fairy taleswicked stepmothers. Turns out, real-life villains werent always step-parents.
Next morning, she dropped Lucy at nursery and dragged through work. A colleague noticed.
“Em, youre white as a sheet. Ill?”
“Didnt sleep.”
But no doctor could fix this. Her heart was what ached.
At the supermarket, her basketmilk, bread, pastacame to £22. She had £20.
“Sorry,” she told the cashier, “put the milk back.”
“Mummy, wheres my milk?” Lucy asked at home.
“Tomorrow, love. Tea with sugar tonight.”
Lucy frowned but didnt fuss. At three, shed learned “tomorrow” often meant “never.”
Edward came late, ate plain potatoes.
“Bit grim tonight.”
“No money for meat.”
“Borrow from Claire, then.”
Emily exhaled. “Eddie, cant you leave *some* of your pay?”
He set his fork down.
“Emily, Ive told you. Mums my priority. She sacrificed *everything* for me. Whatve *you* done that compares?”
The words gutted her.
“I bore your child. Keep this house. Cook, clean”
“Wife and mother duties. Mum *chose* to give up her life for me.”
“So I must sacrifice Lucys for your gratitude?”
“Dont be dramatic.”
“Lucy asks why shes got no new toys. Why we never go to the zoo. What do I say?”
“Say moneys tight. Teach her its value.”
Emily washed up, hands shaking.
“And if your mum demands a fur coat next? A *car*?”
He stood abruptly.
“Enough! Dont speak about her like that!”
“She *is* demanding! First pills, now a telly. What next?”
Edward glared.
“Get a second job if youre short.”
“Who collects Lucy? Who stays home when shes ill?”
“Hire a nanny.”
“With *what*? Your mums spending it all!”
Edward turned to the window, silent.
“You dont understand me. Our values differ.”
“Clearly. Mine include our child. Yoursyour mum.”
“And I wont apologise for that.”
“Then live with her. Why keep a wife who doesnt matter?”
He faced her.
“Maybe I should.”
“Fine. Ill file for divorce tomorrow.”
Edward paled.
“Youre serious?”
“Deadly. If shes your priority, be with her. Lucy and I will manage.”
“Where will you go?”
“Not your concern. My parents will help.”
“You think this is easy for me?”
“Is it easy watching my child go without?”
Edward sank into a chair, head in hands.
“I never meant this.”
“But here we are. Well both live with our choices.”
Emily packed a bag. Tomorrow, shed go to her parents. Itd be hardbut honest. No more being told she came second. No more Lucy wondering why Daddy didnt love her enough.
And Edward? Hed have the person who mattered most. Just the two of them.
Only his mother wouldnt see her grandchild again.
Some things couldnt be forgiven.
