Fate has a way of twisting life into shapes no one could have imagined, leaving everyone stunned by its whims.
Emily and James had been married nearly a decade, deeply in love, raising their two sons. Emily was a teacher by training, once teaching history at a local school. But after the birth of their youngest, little Oliver, she had to resign. His health was fragile, and he needed his mother by his side.
“Were going to the hospital today,” Emily told James over breakfast as he prepared for work. “Our appointments at elevencould you drive us?”
“Of course,” James replied. “Ive got a meeting with the boss first, then Ill swing by the branch office. Ill call you.”
“I suppose she could take the bus with the boyits not like shes royalty,” muttered his mother, Margaret, pursing her lips.
Emily stayed silent. James nodded, grabbed the car keys, and left. They lived in Margarets flata decent enough arrangement, if not for the fact that Margaret, an officers daughter, was used to ruling with an iron fist. Everyone knew it was better not to cross her. Emily learned that early when Margaret had set her straight in no uncertain terms.
*”In this flat, I am the mistress,”* she had snapped the moment Emily dared step into the kitchen to cook. *”I wont tolerate another woman trying to take charge here. Do I make myself clear? I wont repeat it.”*
Emily understood. She never argued. Margaret had been widowed young and refused to let her son slip from her grasp. So she insisted they all live together under her roof.
Anyone would think shed be happyher son married, grandchildren born, a daughter-in-law who wasnt difficult or quarrelsome. But old habits die hard. Margarets affection poured onto James and the boys, while Emily barely registered as human to her.
*”Dont touch anything in the flat Cant even wash properly, cant cook, look after my son and grandchildren half as well as you should,”* Margaret would snipe, even as Emily scrubbed floors, dusted meticulously, and kept the place spotless.
Pleasing her was impossible. The jabs worsened when Oliver was born with his condition, forcing Emily to quit her job. Many nights, she cried in secret. Sometimes, she cracked and confided in James.
“James, I respect your mum, but wed be better off on our own,” shed say carefully, never wanting to sound ungrateful.
“Whats she ever done wrong? The flats clean, meals are cooked, laundrys done, kids are fed. You dont even workyou could handle it all yourself. Instead of thanking her, you whinge like an old washerwoman.”
“James, youve no idea how much Id love to do it all myselfcook, clean, look after the boysbut your mother”
“We dont have the money for our own place,” hed cut in sharply. *”We dont.* And dont forget, Im the only one bringing in a wage.”
So she endured.
“Emily, meet me downstairs with Oliver,” James called when she was ready.
“Margaret, could we pop to the shops after the hospital?” Emily asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely not. Ill get whats needed. Youve no clue about groceriesyoud pick all the wrong things,” Margaret said, lips tight, already turning away.
*”God, if only I could please her just once,”* Emily thought. *”Nothings ever good enough. James doesnt see ithe only listens to his precious mum.”*
After the hospital, she and Oliver wandered the park, swinging on the playground, sharing ice cream under a crisp autumn sky. Oliver, six now, would start school next year. The doctor had reassured her:
*”Everythings fine. Oliver will go to a regular school, just like other children. Hes brighthis condition isnt worsening. Youve done splendidly caring for him. Respect to you for your patience.”*
“Thank you, Doctor. That means everything.”
They returned home happythough Emily knew Margaret wouldnt care about the doctors praise. The last word would always be hers, and it would be sharp. But Emily had long since accepted it.
“How was it, Ollie?” Margaret asked her grandson.
“Brilliant, Gran! The doctor said I was clever, and Mummy takes good care of me!”
“Ah, so Mummy gets the credit. Well, if it werent for me”
Margarets sixtieth birthday loomed in March. Emily and James agonised over a gifthow to please a woman who couldnt be pleased?
“Em, what if we take Mum out for dinner? Give her a break from the kitchenshed like that,” James suggested.
“Dinner out? I dont know Shell find something wrong.”
“Right, thats settled then,” he said, already moving on. “Keep it quietwell tell her the night before.”
Emily liked the idea, but she knew Margaret wouldnt. Nothing ever satisfied her.
“Mum, were taking you out for your birthday,” James announced the evening before. She opened her mouth to protest. “Mum, youre one of a kind, and sixty only happens once.”
To everyones shock, there were no complaintsthough she didnt exactly beam with joy. Still, her agreeing at all felt like a small victory.
At the restaurant, the children buzzed with excitement. Emily and James were in high spirits, dressed smartly. But Margaret sat stiffly, as if the whole affair offended her. Eventually, she spoke.
“Son, well be penniless at this rate. Youre tossing money away because of me. We couldve had dinner at home. And you, Emilyif you were a proper wife, youd have talked him out of this nonsense.”
Emily stayed quiet, unwilling to ruin the evening. At a nearby table, an older man watched them intently. James bristled.
“Whys that bloke staring? Dont look at him,” he muttered darkly.
“Who? Where?”
“You *know* where,” he hissed, kicking her under the table.
“I dont!”
James face reddened, veins bulging. Before he could explode, the stranger stood and approached Margaret.
“May I have this dance?”
The table froze. But Margaret offered her hand, smiling coyly.
As they swayed, she blossomedlaughing, chatting, utterly transformed. They danced the night away.
“This is William,” she announced later, glowing. “We were in school together. Fancy him recognising me after all these years! What a birthday gift.”
That night, as they prepared to leave, Margaret hesitated.
“Dont wait up. I might be late.” With a girlish smile, she left with William.
She didnt come home.
The next afternoon, the doorbell rang. James answered.
“Hello!” Margaret chirped, William beaming behind her. “Ive just popped in for my things.”
Silence.
“Dont look so shocked! Im moving outweve decided, havent we?” She glanced at William, who nodded eagerly.
She packed a few belongings, kissed the children, and left. Soon, they married.
Emily and James were thrilledespecially Emily.
*”FinallyIm the mistress of my own home.”*
“Love, I never knew you could cook like this!” James marvelled. “The flats spotlessyoure a marvel!”
“I *told* you I could manage. Now you see.”
Margaret and William visited occasionally. She showered Emily with praise, calling her a “proper little homemaker,” while James looked on proudly.
*”I always said a home should have one mistress,”* Margaret would sigh, gazing adoringly at William. *”Youre wonderful, Emily. My sons so lucky.”*
Emily and James would exchange glancesand smile.
