Emily stood on the doorstep, a set of keys in her hand, and for the first time in years she felt a quiet certainty. Not fear, not guiltjust a cool, clear determination.
I’m changing my mind, Margaret, her mother said, her voice trembling. You’ve been living here rentfree for three years. That ends today.
Mother what are you talking about, dear? Where am I to go? Im your child! Margaret whispered, her eyes flickering with unspoken accusation.
My family is the one who respects me, Emily replied calmly. Not the one who calls me lazy.
Margaret tried to smile, but a sharp edge crept into her gaze.
Is that what James told you? Hes young, hotheaded, says things without thinking ignore him, Emily! she hissed.
No, Margaret. Hes only repeating what youve been whispering to him for years, Emily said, her voice firm. I dont work, I live off his back, Ive become spoiled. Do you realize how absurd that sounds?
Margarets face went pale.
I I only wanted what was best for you
Excellent, Emily raised an eyebrow. From now on, it will be best for you too. Just in a different house.
That evening, when James returned home, the flat was hushed. A modest dinner waited on the table, covered with a cloth, and beside it lay a slip of paper.
Since you wanted me to work, Ive taken a job.
The flat on Sunrise Street is now let.
Mum can move in with you.
The key is with the landlord. Emily
James read the note once, then twice, then a third time. He could not believe it.
What nonsense he muttered, reaching for his mothers number.
Mom? Are you home? he asked.
Home?! Margaret shouted into the handset. Get me out! Ive gone mad! She told me to pack my things and half an hour later a man with a lease arrivednew tenants!
What? She really handed over the flat? James stammered.
Of course! I have witnesses!
Im on my way!
James burst into the Sunrise Street flat. The lingering scent of yesterdays stew still clung to the air, but the hallway was already cluttered with boxes and suitcases. A young couple stood in the living rooma bespectacled boy and a girl with copperred hair cradling a cat.
Excuse me, who are you? the young man asked politely.
James opened his mouth, but no words came out. He fumbled for his phone and called Emily.
What on earth have you done?! he snapped when she answered. You gave away the flat my mother lives in?
Yes, she replied evenly. Even lazy people have to make a living, dont they?
Dont joke with me! James shouted. Where will Mum go now?
With you, of course. Youre the man, the head of the family. Prove it.
Emily his voice faltered. Dont you think youre being harsh? Were family.
She smileda thin, humorless smile.
Family? When I worked myself to the bone I was your servant. When I stopped, they called me lazy. Now Im simply myself.
What will you do now? he asked desperately.
Ill work. But for myself, not for you.
A month passed. Emily rented a small office in the city centre and launched a freelance interiordesign businessa passion she had always postponed. The first clients came through a friend, then through word of mouth. Business picked up. Each morning she awoke smiling, finally feeling she was living her own genuine life.
James, at first, tried to win her back. He sent messages, called, threatened, then pleaded, later complaining to friends that his wife had gone mad and thrown his mother out. Gradually the noise faded. His mother moved in with him in a cramped twobedroom flat; money was tight. At work, James was suddenly deemed redundant and let go.
One Saturday afternoon he gathered the courage to knock on Emilys door. Laughter and a mans voice drifted from within. When the door opened, James froze.
Emily stood there, composed and radiant, a tall, elegant gentleman beside her holding a bouquet of flowers.
James? she asked, surprised. What are you doing here?
He stayed silent for a long moment.
I came to talk. Maybe we could sort things out.
Emily looked him in the eye, then sighed.
James, for years I tried to please you. Now Im finally happy. You know what? Im grateful. If you hadnt called me lazy, I might never have woken up.
She smiled gently, her eyes free of bitterness, only calm.
I wish you and your mother all the best, she said, and closed the door slowly.
James was left alone on the landing, his gaze falling on the sign by the door:
Your Home Property Services
A soft chuckle came from inside.
In that moment Emily understood: a home is not a flat, a mortgage, or a name on a doorbell. A home is wherever you can breathe in peace. And that peace was finally hers.
