Emily slipped into the kitchen in her wellworn joggers and a wrinkled tee, radiating that Saturdaymorning vibe of just before the coffee kicks in. She poured herself a glass of water from the filter, barely glancing at her husband. Jack was perched at the tiny table by the window, nursing his mug as the morning sun drew mischievous patterns on the tablecloth. His mind, however, seemed to be elsewhere.
Hey, love, a quick favour, Emily said, setting down her mug. Mum needs a hand the baywindow panes need a good scrub and she cant quite manage the grocery run for the week on her own. Think you could pop over today?
This wasnt the first time a request like this had popped up. It had started with the innocent, Emily, could you drop Mum some bread? or Mind swinging by with her meds? Then it grew into fullblown trips across town with heavyweight tote bags, deepcleaning raids at her motherinlaws house, and even the odd DIY fix that Mrs. Thompson swore only a spry young lad could handle. Meanwhile, Jack was rarely seen at his own mothers doorstep. Im knackered, or just dont feel like it, hed often mutter. Youre free, arent you? Emily would sigh, grab a bucket, and set off, listening patiently to his mothers endless rants about health, rising prices, noisy neighbours, and how poor Jack gets the short end of the stick.
Emilys voice, unusually steady, cut through the kitchen clatter. Jack, Ive already told you. Im your wife, not a personal assistant for your mum, and certainly not a freeofcharge housekeeper. If Mrs. Thompson needs serious help, why dont you do it yourself? Youve got the day off, havent you? Or have you forgotten?
Jack blinked, caught offguard. Usually these talks ended with Emily sighing and conceding after a few coaxing words.
Uh I thought youd he stammered, frowning. Its not that hard! Womens work washing windows, buying groceries youre better at that, arent you?
Emily twisted her lips into a grimace that spelled trouble.
Womens work, really? she said sardonically. So lugging fivekilogram bags of potatoes up to the seventh floor and wiping grime off windows is now exclusively a ladys duty? And youll just lounge at home, saving your energy for a cosy evening on the sofa?
The tension thickened. Jack slammed his glass onto the counter, his face flushing.
Come off it, whats the big deal? Im just asking! You know Mums alone, shes getting on, its tough for her! Instead of help I get a drama queen!
Drama queen? Emily arched an eyebrow. So my refusal to be a servant is hysterics? Listen up.
What else?
Im your wife, not a errandgirl! If your mum needs help, youre the one who should be there. Its your filial duty. Or do you think a son should offload everything onto his wife? Im not asking you to look after my mother; her problems are mine, and Ill sort them myself. So, darling, grab the list, a rag, a bucket, and head to Mums. Use my gloves if youve forgotten yours. Ive got my own tasks now. No more of these requests, got it?
Jack stared at her as if she were an alien. The usual deference evaporated, replaced by a cold, decisive stare.
This is disrespectful to my mother! he shouted, stepping forward.
No, Jack, its respect for yourself. Basic selfrespect. If you cant see that, thats your problem.
Emily rose, circled the table with calm precision, and left the kitchen, leaving Jack in a patchwork of sunlight, broken comfort, and a sudden realization that life might not be as cosy as it seemed.
Not ready to surrender, Jack followed her into the lounge where she had planted herself with a book. He halted in the doorway, fists clenched, his face a picture of fury.
So you just decide to say no? To ignore my pleas about Mum? Is that how a wife should behave?
Emily lowered the book slowly.
Do you think its normal, Jack, to dump your sons responsibilities onto his wife? she asked, voice steady. You talk about Mum, yet forget shes yours. She has a son a grown, healthy man with a day off. Why does he send you instead of helping himself, while you plan a lazy day on the couch?
Because it never bothered anyone before! Jack blurted, lunging forward. You always helped, everything was fine! What changed? Did you get a crown or think youre special?
Changed is that I cant keep being the convenient helper for both of you, Emily replied, fatigue laced with steel. Im tired of being the goto person while my own time, energy, and wishes are ignored. You say you always said yes. Have you ever considered the cost to me? How many times have I sacrificed my plans, my rest, even my health just to keep the peace?
Jack waved a hand dismissively, as if swatting away a fly.
Oh, here we go again, the martyr act! No one forced you, you chose it. So it must have been comfortable for you!
Emily smirked bitterly. I chose it because I wanted a harmonious household, hoping youd notice how much I do. Instead you treated it as a given, as if I were obliged to cater to every relative of yours. My own mother never asked you to help with her windows or garden. She knows we have our own lives. Yet your mum, alongside you, treats me like a free resource you can tap at will.
Dont compare them! Jack roared, face twisted with anger. My mother has always looked after us! And now you act selfish when she asks for help? Pure selfishness!
And whos going to think of me if I dont? Emily shot back, meeting his gaze without flinching. You? Or Mrs. Thompson, who after a tidyup starts bragging about the neighbours daughterinlaw baking pies every day? No, Jack. This chapter is over. I wont be the carpet you all trample on, hiding behind duty and help to justify your exploitation.
The room felt like a pressure cooker. Jack sensed his control slipping. His usual authority, his right to direct, was crumbling before his eyes. Hed grown accustomed to Emilys yielding nature, but this cold, resolute woman was throwing him off his perch.
Youre ungrateful! he gasped. Were all in this together and you you dont appreciate us! You couldnt care less about our feelings!
Feelings, huh? Emily laughed, though there was no mirth. When was the last time you asked about mine? When I trudged home after a full day at your mums and you just said, All right, done? Good job. My needs? A simple bit of rest, a touch of human attention? Never. Its easier to have a wife who silently does whatever is asked.
Jack paced like a caged animal. His usual guilttrip tactics fell flat, only feeding his frustration.
Fine, he finally panted. If you wont do this nicely, Ill do it my way. Youll hear from my mum soon enough.
He fished out his phone and dialed. Emily sat cool, a faint glint of disdain on her face, knowing exactly what was coming the heavy artillery of a mother always on the sons side.
A few seconds later, a slightly annoyed voice answered.
Jack, love, youre calling early? Im just trying not to stress myself.
Mum, you wont believe whats happening! he shouted, the words booming for both to hear. I asked Emily to go to you, clean the windows and grab the groceries. Shes thrown a fit! She says youre my mother, I should go myself, not send a girl to run errands. Can you imagine?
A heavy silence settled. Emily smiled to herself; she knew her motherinlaw loved a dramatic pause.
What? Mrs. Thompson finally replied, feigning surprise. She said that about me?
Yes, Mum, exactly that! Jack echoed. She says shes my wife, not my mothers maid, and I should toil myself. Its nonsense!
Ah, the young ones she sighed melodramatically. I thought youd be like family but she
Give me the phone, Emily said evenly.
Jack glared, thinking hed won.
Scared? Want to apologise to Mum?
Give me the phone, she repeated, her tone so icy that Jacks confidence wilted and he handed over the device, flipping it to speaker.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson, Emily began, businesslike. I heard your conversation and would like to set the record straight.
Sweetheart, whats going on with Jack? Hes all upset why are you treating me like like were one big family?
Mrs. Thompson, if you truly need help with something physically demanding, such as washing windows or lugging groceries, you should be asking your son, not his wife, Emily said firmly. Hes off work today, healthy, and its his duty as a son to look after his mother. I am his wife, not your housekeeper.
Emily, dear, youre the one who runs the house the mother started, but irritation crept in. Jack is a man, he has other responsibilities. He provides for the family
I work too, Mrs. Thompson, Emily interjected. My day off is just as valuable. Im not about to do regular free labour for your household. If cleaning is a problem, you could hire a cleaning service. Thats a practical solution.
Cleaning service?! the older woman gasped. Let strangers into my home? People will think Im a burden! Theyll say my son and daughterinlaw have abandoned me!
Im not worried about what strangers think, Emily replied, unwavering. I care about my right to a life and some rest. If Jack is ashamed to help his own mother, thats his issue, not mine.
An uneasy silence hung in the line, broken only by the laboured breathing of Mrs. Thompson.
So thats how it is? she finally rasped, her voice stripped of any former softness. You think youre the boss now? Well, Emily I wont let it slide. If youre against the family, against respect for elders, Ill come over and sort it out myself. Well have a proper chat, and youll learn how things should be done.
With a sharp click she hung up. Jack shot a triumphant look at Emily, as if to say, Watch me. She simply placed the phone on the table, unfazed. The battle had only just begun.
Forty minutes later, a frantic knock rattled the front door, as if the whole entrance wanted to be flung open. Jack, who had been pacing like a jittery rabbit, raced to answer. Emily stayed seated, her composure intact though her heart raced. Determination was her armour; she wouldnt show any weakness.
Mum! At last! You have no idea what just happened! Jack exclaimed from the hallway, his voice a mix of outrage and righteous fury.
Mrs. Thompson stormed in like a summer gale, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, a halftucked scarf fluttering. She was clearly ready for battle.
Come over here, girl! she roared, lunging at Emily, who calmly rose to meet her. How dare you tell my son what to do? How dare you speak to me like that?
Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson, Emily replied, keeping her politeness polished, which only seemed to fuel the mothers anger. Glad youre here. We can discuss this calmly, without any misunderstandings.
Discuss? the older woman shrieked. I have nothing to discuss with a woman who insults her own sons mother! We took you into the family and you turn out to be a snake! Where was Jack when you were spewing this nonsense?
He was right there, Mum, Jack defended, his voice trembling. He said I should wash the windows myself, that Im not obliged to help you!
I didnt just say that, Jack, Emily corrected coolly. I said the truth. Youre his mother, so its your duty to be cared for by him. If you think your wife should do it for you, then youre either lazy or not a man at all.
How dare you! Mrs. Thompson gasped. My son works! Hes exhausted! And you sit at home doing nothing!
I work too, Mrs. Thompson, Emilys voice hardened. I earn as much as your son. My home isnt a free service centre for your family. You raised a man who cant make a decision without you. Im done being the perpetual helper and scapegoat in this family drama.
Her words landed like a slap. Jack stood frozen, unsure what to say. His mother trembled with rage.
Ive given him everything! Sleepless nights! And you come here to judge me?
Exactly because you gave him everything, he remains a dependent child, Emily retorted. He should have grown up by now. Instead you keep him on a short leash. Im stepping out of that script.
Jack finally erupted. Silence! he shouted, stepping forward. Youve crossed every line! My mother is a saint, and if you dont like it, you can leave! I choose my mother! Shes the only one I have, and there are plenty like you out there!
Those were the final blows. Emily stared at him with a long, cold gaze.
Alright, Jack, she said quietly but firmly. Youve made your choice. I now know what youre worth. I want nothing to do with you or your mother. Pack your things, or just go back to her. I dont care. This nightmare is over.
She turned away, signalling the end of the conversation. Behind her, the shrill cries of mother and son continued, but Emily no longer listened. She looked out the window at a new day beginning. The heavy burden had lifted from her shoulders. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also freedom. Behind her remained two people who had lost not just a daughterinlaw or a wife, but the chance at a normal life, forever trapped in their own toxic little world.
