“You took my son from me, and I’ll take everything from you,” said the mother-in-law.
“Emily, why are you up so early?” asked Margaret Wilson, peeking out from her room. “It’s half six in the morning.”
“I have to get to work early today,” Emily replied, hurriedly stuffing documents into her bag. “Theres an unexpected team meeting.”
Margaret shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers and began clattering dishes. Emily tried to slip past unnoticed, but no such luck.
“What about breakfast? Will my boy go to work hungry?”
“Olivers a grown man, he can make his own breakfast,” Emily said, pulling on her jacket and searching for her keys.
“Oh, is that so?” Margaret turned to face her fully. “In my day, a wife knew her duties. Women took care of their husbands properly.”
Emily took a deep breath. This was the same conversation they had every morning since Margaret moved in after her illness six months ago. The constant scrutiny and criticism never let up.
“Margaret, Oliver and I decide together who does what. We have a partnership.”
“Partnership!” Margaret scoffed. “My boy never went hungry under my roof. Now I see him losing weight.”
Emily bit back a retort that thirty-year-old Oliver was hardly a boy. Arguing with Margaret was like shouting into the wind.
“Look, Im running late. Olivers still asleepwake him at eight.”
“Oh, Ill wake him, dont you worry. I know my responsibilities, unlike some.”
At work, Emily couldnt concentrate. Her colleague Lucy noticed her distraction by lunchtime.
“Whats wrong? You look exhausted,” Lucy said, settling into the chair beside her with a coffee.
“Same old with the mother-in-law. Every single day. I dont cook right, I dont clean right, I dont talk to Oliver right.”
“And he doesnt stick up for you?”
Emily gave a bitter laugh.
“Hardly. His mothers a saint to him. Says shes been ill, shes stressedwe have to be understanding.”
“I see. How much longer is she staying with you?”
“No idea. Officially, shes recovered, doctors say she can live alone. But Olivers terrified to let her go. What if something happens?”
Lucy shook her head sympathetically.
“Thats rough, Em. I cant stand my mother-in-law, and I dont even live with her.”
That evening, Emily came home tired and hungry. The flat smelled of roast beef and mashed potatoes. Oliver sat on the sofa with a plate in hand, watching telly.
“Hello, love,” he said, not looking up. “How was work?”
“Fine. Whats for dinner?”
“Mum made roast beefits delicious. Theres some left in the kitchen.”
Emily walked in to find Margaret washing dishes.
“Good evening, Margaret.”
“Evening,” Margaret replied curtly, not turning around.
Emily lifted the lid of the pot. Inside was one thin slice of beef and a spoonful of mash.
“Is this all thats left?”
“Not enough?” Margaret finally faced her. “I thought you were watching your weight. Always complaining about your jeans being tight.”
“Im not complaining, just mentioning they fit snugly sometimes.”
“Well, there you go. Im looking out for your health.”
Emily took her plate to the lounge. Oliver was engrossed in a nature documentary.
“Ol, can we talk?”
“Sure. What about?”
“Go look in the kitchen. See how much food your mum left me.”
Oliver reluctantly got up and returned moments later.
“So what? Its a normal portion.”
“Maybe for a sparrow. Oliver, Ive worked all day, Im starving, and I get scraps.”
“Mum!” he called toward the kitchen. “Whys there so little food left?”
“Darling, I thought Emily wasnt very hungry. Shes always talking about slimming down.”
“See?” Oliver turned to his wife. “Mum was trying to help, thinking of you.”
Emily felt something boil inside her.
“Oliver, your mum deliberately leaves me next to nothing. Every. Single. Day.”
“Dont be ridiculous. Mums kindhearted.”
“Kind to you. To me, she treats me like a bad housemaid.”
A loud sniffle came from the kitchen. Oliver jumped up.
“Now youve upset her! Shes unwell!”
“And Im what, perfectly healthy?”
But hed already gone to comfort Margaret. Emily sat alone with her half-eaten meal.
Later, the kitchen fell quiet. Oliver returned, looking sheepish.
“Sorry, love. Mums really struggling. Says she feels like a burden.”
“Good. She should.”
“Emily!”
“What? Were a young couplewere supposed to be building our life together. Instead, were under constant surveillance.”
“Shes not spying, she cares.”
“Cares? She critiques everything I do! The laundry, the cooking, the way I speak to you!”
Oliver sat beside her on the sofa.
“Look, lets give it a little longer. Shell adjust. Then well find her a nice flat nearby.”
“When?”
“I dont know. But we will, I promise.”
The next day, Emily came home early to cook dinner herself. She bought groceries, hoping for a peaceful evening.
But as she opened the door, she heard Margarets voice:
“Yes, darling, I understand your wife. Young, inexperienced. But my patience isnt endless.”
Emily froze in the hallway. Oliver replied quietly, but she caught it:
“Mum, dont say that. Emilys wonderful.”
“Wonderful, but not for you. Look how thin youve gotten! And that temper of hersalways dissatisfied, always complaining.”
“Shes just tired from work.”
“Work, work! What about home? Family? Her priorities are all wrong. Oliver, Ive been thinking maybe you rushed into this marriage.”
A chill ran down Emilys spine. She quietly took off her shoes and walked into the kitchen, pretending shed heard nothing.
“Good evening,” she said evenly.
“Oh, Emily, we didnt hear you,” Margaret said, not even feigning guilt. “How was work?”
“Fine. I thought Id make dinner.”
“Dont bother, Ive made beef stewyour favourite,” Margaret said to Oliver.
“Thanks, Mum. That alright with you, Em?”
“Of course,” Emily lied.
Dinner conversation was stilted. Oliver talked about work, Margaret fawned, and Emily ate the admittedly delicious stew in silence.
“Emily, any plans this weekend?” Margaret asked suddenly.
“Not really. Why?”
“I need Oliver to take me to the clinic. Tests to run.”
“Course, Mum. No problem.”
“Good. I worried Emily mightve booked you up.”
The faintest mockery laced Margarets tone. Emily looked up and met her gazetriumph glittered in her mother-in-laws eyes.
After dinner, Emily retreated to the bedroom with a headache. Lying there, she realized: Margaret had declared war. And Oliver didnt even see how his mother was turning him against his wife.
He came to bed late, finding her half-asleep.
“Hows your head?” he asked, sitting on the edge.
“Better.”
“Em have you noticed Mums been acting odd?”
“How so?”
“Just saying things. One minute she complains about feeling in the way, the next she refuses to leave.”
Emily propped herself up.
“Like what, exactly?”
“Last night she said shes afraid our marriage was a mistake.”
“What did you say?”
“That we love each other and can handle anything.”
“Oliver, your mother hates me. And shes trying to drive us apart.”
“Dont be daft. Mums just protective.”
“She wants me gone.”
“Emily, youre overreacting. Mum says things she doesnt mean.”
“If you believe that, watch her tomorrow. Really watch.”
The next day, Oliver worked from home. Emily asked him to observe his mother closely.
When she returned that evening, his expression told her everything.
“Well?” she asked once they were alone.
Oliver sighed heavily.
“You were right. Mums been strange today.”
“What happened?”
“She wouldnt stop talking about you. How messy you are, how disrespectful. Then outright said I shouldnt have married you.”
“And you said?”
“That I love you and wont let anyone interfere.”
“And she?”
Oliver hesitated.
“She cried. Said Id chosen a wife over my own mother.”
“Classic emotional blackmail.”
“Emily, shes unwell. The surgery, her nerves”
“How long will you excuse her with that? Shes deliberately trying to break us up!”
“Alright, Ill talk to her. Make it clear shes wrong.”
The next morning, Emily woke to raised voices in the kitchen. Oliver and Margaret were arguing.
“Son, you dont see what shes really like!”
“Mum, stop! Emilys my wife, and you will respect her.”
“Respect? For what? Turning you against me?”
Emily got up and headed to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.
Margaret stood rigid with fury. Oliver sat at the table, head in hands.
“You took my son from me, and Ill take everything from you,” Margaret spat when she saw Emily.
“Mum!” Oliver cried.
“Take what?” Emily asked calmly.
“Youll see. Think I dont know how to handle your sort? Forty years Ive livedI know where women like you crack.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Warning you. My son lives as I say. Cross me, and youll regret it.”
“Mum, what are you saying?” Oliver stood. “How can you speak to my wife like that?”
“And how does she speak to me? Think I dont notice her sneers? Her whining about me to you?”
“Mum, Emily never”
“Quiet!” Margaret cut in. “Youre blind, son. Cant see what this girls doing to our family.”
Emily couldnt stay silent.
“Margaret, I didnt take anyone. Oliver chose me. If you dislike it, youre welcome to move back to your own flat.”
“Oh ho!” Margaret drew herself up. “Throwing out a sick woman from her sons home!”
“Im not throwing you out. Im suggesting we live separately.”
“Shes right, Mum,” Oliver said quietly. “Maybe moving out is best.”
Margaret looked as if hed stabbed her.
“So thats it,” she hissed. “You choose her.”
“I chose my wife when I married her. Youll always be my mother.”
“Fine. Lets see what you do when she leaves you.”
“Mum, what are you”
But Margaret stormed out, slamming the door.
Oliver and Emily were alone. He rubbed his temples.
“Sorry, love. Never thought itd come to this.”
“Ol, your mothers serious. Im scared shell actually do something.”
“What can she do? Just words in the heat of the moment.”
“I dont know. But that wasnt just angerthat was hate.”
Oliver hugged her.
“She wont hurt you. I wont let her.”
Yet Emily knew: this was only the beginning. Margaret had declared war, and she wouldnt back down.
At lunch, her friend Charlotte called.
“Em, did you know your mother-in-law rang my mum?”
“What? Why?”
“Asked all sorts about you. School, ex-boyfriends, if you ever had problemsdrink, drugs”
Goosebumps prickled Emilys neck.
“What did your mum say?”
“Just that you were a good kid, did well in school. Whys she asking?”
“No idea. Just being nosy, I guess.”
But Emily knew: Margaret was digging for dirt.
That evening, the air at home was thick with tension. Margaret ignored Emily, doting theatrically on Oliver.
“Darling, I made your favourite lamb chops,” she cooed. “Eat up, son, eat up.”
“Thanks, Mum. Lovely.”
“And for you, Emily, plain boiled veg. Watching your figure, arent you?”
Emily stared at her plate of unseasoned broccoli.
“Thanks, but Im not dieting.”
“Oh, dont be shy. Girls your age all fret about their weight.”
Over dinner, Margaret regaled Oliver with neighbourhood gossip. Emily tuned out until she heard a familiar name.
“Linda next door says her daughter-in-law came home drunk again, hitting her husband. Some women, eh?”
“Terrible,” Oliver agreed.
“Thank heavens my boy knows how to pick a decent girl.”
Emily looked up, meeting Margarets gaze. The unspoken threat was clear: *I can say anything about you.*
After dinner, Oliver showered while Emily cleared up. Margaret approached from behind.
“Know what, Emily? I spoke to an old schoolmate of yours today. Interesting things I heard.”
“Who?”
“Sophie Carter. Told me how you got drunk at prom. How you snogged some boy behind the cricket shed.”
Emily turned.
“And?”
“My son thinks he married a good girl. Turns out youre just like the rest.”
“Margaret, I was seventeen. Whats the crime?”
“No crime. Oliver just doesnt know. Whether he finds out thats up to you.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Im giving you a choice. Walk away now, before I tell him what you really are.”
“And what am I?”
Margaret leaned in.
“A slut who seduced my boy. Think I dont know you slept with him before marriage? Think I dont see how youve bewitched him?”
Emily stepped back.
“Youre sick.”
“Sick, but not blind. Ive seen your kind. Pretty, cunning. Wrap men round your finger, then bleed them dry.”
“I have a jobI pay my own way.”
“For now. Have babies, quit work, and youll leech off my son.”
Oliver appeared in the doorway.
“Whats all this?”
“Just girl talk,” Margaret said sweetly, tone flipping instantly. “Emily was telling me about her day.”
That night, Emily lay awake. The war had begunand Margaret would fight dirty.
She knew she should tell Oliver everything. But would he believe her? To him, his mother was blameless; his wife, yet unproven.
Tomorrow would bring fresh attacks. And Emily feared she was losing before the battle had even started.
