Aren’t you ashamed to ask my son for food?” shouted the mother-in-law, hearing the request

**Diary Entry 12th April**

I never thought it would come to this. The tension in our little flat has been unbearable lately.

*”Arent you ashamed, begging my son for scraps?”* My mother-in-laws voice was sharp as a knife when she heard me mention food.

*”Emma, did you buy this cream?”* Susan asked, turning the small jar over in her hands. *”It looks expensive.”*

*”No, Daniel brought it,”* I replied, drying my hands on a tea towel. *”Says it helps with wrinkles.”*

Susan set it back on the shelf with a disapproving click of her tongue. *”Wrinkles,”* she muttered. *”He spends on nonsense while we scrape by.”*

It was true. Just this morning, Daniel had called, apologisingagainfor delaying the food shop till tomorrow.

*”What are we making for lunch?”* Susan pressed, arms crossed. *”Theres only potatoes and carrots in the fridge.”*

I shrugged. *”Soup, maybe?”*

*”Soup? With what? No meat, no chickenjust veg?”*

*”Vegetable soup, then,”* I said, pulling out an onion and half a cabbage. *”Itll do.”*

Susan shook her head. In her day, women planned meals a week ahead. No empty cupboards, no last-minute scrambling.

*”What about Lily?”* she asked, nodding toward the living room where my four-year-old was watching cartoons. *”She wont eat just soup.”*

*”Ill make porridge. Or pasta with butter. Kids love that.”*

*”Is there even any butter left?”*

I checked the fridge. *”Barely fifty grams.”*

Susan sighed deeply. *”Living hand to mouth, and he buys face cream.”*

The air thickened. She perched on a stool, her fingers drumming the counter. *”Emma, love maybe pop to the shop? Just bread and milk for Lily?”*

*”With what money?”* I turned to face her. *”Ive got nothing till payday.”*

*”Nothing? But you work!”*

*”And my wages come Friday. Right now, my purse is empty.”*

Susan paced, her slippers scuffing the linoleum. The silence was heavy. Daniel was late with money, I had none, and Lily needed feeding.

*”My pensions gone on pills,”* she admitted quietly. *”Blood pressures been dreadful. Had to get the expensive ones.”*

*”Well manage till tomorrow,”* I said, though my hands trembled as I peeled potatoes.

*”Manage? The childs starving!”*

*”What do you want me to do? Fry air?”*

*”Think of something! Youre her mother!”*

Lily wandered in then, pyjamas wrinkled, rubbing her eyes. *”Grandma, whens dinner?”*

*”Soon, darling,”* Susan cooed, scooping her up. *”Mummys cooking now.”*

I stirred the pot, watching the sad, pale chunks of potato bob in the water.

*”Mum, can I have biscuits?”* Lily asked, peering into the cupboard.

*”Only crumbs left,”* I said. *”After soup, okay?”*

*”What kind of soup?”*

*”Potato.”*

She pulled a face. *”I want meat, like at Auntie Claires.”*

Susan exhaled sharply. Lily wasnt wrongkids need proper meals, not watery veg.

The phone call to Daniel changed nothing. *”Hell bring food tomorrow,”* Susan said, hanging up. *”Swears it.”*

Lily licked biscuit crumbs from her palm. Susans jaw tightened.

*”Emma, call someone. Friends, family. Just for Lilys sake.”*

*”No.”*

*”Why? Pride?”*

*”Decency. I wont beg.”*

Susans voice rose. *”Its not begging! Its survival!”*

Lily cried. Susan rocked her, whispering promises. *”Grandmall sort it.”*

In the end, it was Mrs. Thompson next door who saved usmilk, yoghurts, even sausages. *”Neighbours help neighbours,”* shed said kindly.

Lily devoured the food, grinning. I sat there, throat tight, realising: sometimes, swallowing your pride is the only way to keep someone else fed.

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Aren’t you ashamed to ask my son for food?” shouted the mother-in-law, hearing the request
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