You should be ashamed turning up with a gift like that on my birthday! I spent more on the party! croaked the mother-in-lawthen immediately regretted it.
Emily took a deep breath, feeling her heart pound faster than usual. She adjusted the sleeve of her navy blue silk dress, which clung to her figure like a second skin, accentuating every curve with refined elegance. In the mirror stood a woman who wanted to be flawlessnot just in appearance, but in her actions. The pearl earrings, a gift from Andrew for their anniversary, shimmered softly under the lamplight, adding grace to her poise. Today was specialMargarets sixtieth birthday. Once, Emily and her mother-in-law had shared warm, almost motherly affection. She wanted this evening to be a celebration of love, respect, and gratitude. She wanted Margaret to feel valuednot just as family, but as a person.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and Andrew appeared in the doorwaytall, composed, adjusting his tie with an easy smile. His gaze swept over his wife, admiration flickering in his eyes.
Ready, Em? he asked, stepping closer. Mums already called twice. The guests are arriving.
Nearly, Emily replied, picking up the neatly wrapped gift from the dresser. The paper gleamed with gold patterns, the ribbons tied with such care it was as if each fold held a piece of her soul. Are you sure were doing the right thing?
Andrew wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. His warmth always soothed her.
Absolutely, he whispered. Imagine her face when she finds out shes getting a new fridge. And your paintingits a masterpiece! Its not just a gift, its a memory, love, home. Shell feel it.
Emily tightened her grip on the package. Her fingers trembled slightlynot from fear, but anticipation. Three weeks ago, she and Andrew had debated endlessly what to get Margaret. The old fridge, a relic of the last two decades, was more trouble than help: the door didnt shut properly, the freezer barely worked, and the compressor hummed loud enough to keep the neighbours awake. Emily insisted on replacing itnot with a basic model, but a sleek, modern one with No Frost technology, a digital display, and spacious shelves. It had been a blow to their budgetthe recent nursery renovations had left a dentbut she believed a real gift should mean something.
You cant exactly lug a fridge to a birthday party, Andrew had joked at the time. Imagine us walking in with delivery men. The guests would think were moving house.
Then well give her something heartfelt first, Emily had replied. Ill paint her a picture. Thenthe surprise. Two gifts: one from the heart, one from practicality.
And so, shed set to work. Every evening, once their son was asleep and the house quiet, Emily sat at the easel. In her mind, memories of summers at Margarets cottage came alive: the old house with its carved eaves, the veranda draped in ivy, the apple trees blooming in May like enchanted lanterns. The painting was warm, sunlit, infused with tenderness. Every stroke was more than colourit was emotion. More than a lineit was a memory. She poured love, respect, and gratitude into that canvas.
But lately, Margaret had changed. Shed grown sharp, critical. She nitpicked Emilys parenting, scoffed at her cooking (despite using her own recipes), and muttered things like, Women in my day knew how to keep a proper home. Andrew insisted it was just age, lonelinessthat she needed support. Emily bit her tongue, smiled through it, but inside, tension coiled like a spring.
Lets go, or well be late, Andrew said, grabbing the keys. No need to start Mums party on the wrong foot.
On the way, they stopped at a florist. Emily chose a grand arrangement of white and red rosessymbols of purity and passion, life and memory. The car filled with their delicate scent, mingling with leather seats and crisp autumn air. Outside, the streets of the old neighbourhood flashed byhouses with wrought-iron details, trees shedding golden leaves, lampposts flickering to life in the dusk. It all felt like a childhood memory.
Dyou think shell guess about the fridge? Emily asked as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.
How could she? Andrew grinned. We havent dropped a single hint. Its a proper surprise.
The door swung open, and there stood Margaret. Sixty, but she looked a decade youngerneatly styled hair, subtle makeup, an elegant black dress with a beaded collar. But her eyes flashed with something uneasy, like lightning, when they landed on Emily.
Andrew! she cried, hugging her son. Im so glad youre here! And you She kissed Emilys cheek stiffly, almost formally. Come in, everyones arrived.
The flat was transformedfestive, polished. The table was laid with meticulous care: vintage china, crystal glasses, platters of canapés, pies, saladsit couldve been ripped from a magazine. The air smelled of wine, pastry, and flowers. Margaret had clearly poured love into this day, as if it were a milestone.
Guestscolleagues, neighbours, distant relativeswere already seated, chatting and laughing. Emily smiled, nodded, but felt like an outsider. It was as if everyone was judging her, though no one said a word. Andrew held her hand, shielding her.
My dears, Margaret raised her glass, thank you for coming. Sixty yearsits not just a number. Its life. Its memory. Its love.
The guests stood, clinking glasses. Margaret smiled, but Emily noticed how often she sipped her winetoo often.
Margaret, Emily stood, holding out the gift. Wed like to wish you happy birthday. From the heart.
Silence. All eyes turned to her. Her pulse throbbed in her temples.
This is from both of us, she said, offering the package. With love.
Her mother-in-law unwrapped the paper. Saw the painting. Her face shifted instantlybrows furrowed, lips pressed thin.
What is this? She held up the watercolour. Is this some kind of joke?
Emily painted it just for you, Andrew said proudly. Remember the cottage? How we
How could you? Margaret snapped. Bring this scribble to my birthday? I spent more on the party than you did on this!
Emily froze inside. Andrew went rigid.
Mum, what are you saying? He tried to take her hand.
Dont touch me! She jerked away. The alcohol had loosened her tongue. Thought I wasnt worth a proper gift? Brought me a scrap of paper instead! Too tight to spend, were you? Waiting for me to die so you can have the flat? Turned my son against me!
The guests went still. Some looked away; others stared at their shoes. The silence was thick, suffocating.
Margaret, Emily said quietly, I worked on this for three weeks. Every night. Its my home. Our home.
Shut up! Margaret cut in. Youve never loved me! Never wanted to be part of this family!
Andrew tried to restrain his mother, but she was a storm unleashed.
My son would never have given me this before! She waved the painting. Now? Decided to cut corners?
Mum, enough! Andrew snapped. You dont understand!
I understand perfectly! She drained her glass. I understand that for your own mother, all you have now is this!
Emily stood slowly. Pulled out her phone. Her hands shook, but her voice was steady.
Hello, delivery service? Yes, this is Emily Carter. The Bosch fridge, tomorrow, 15 Peace Street, flat 23. Cancel the order. Yes. Thank you.
Silence. Deep, ringing. Margaret turned slowly.
What fridge?
A good one. Big, modern, Emily pocketed her phone. The one we picked out for you. That was the real gift. The painting was from the heart. So youd have something to open today.
Margarets face went grey. She sank into a chair, still clutching the watercolour.
But I didnt know
You didnt, Emily repeated. But that didnt stop you humiliating me in front of everyone. Calling me cheap. Suggesting Im waiting for you to die.
Emily, I Margaret stammered. Id had too much I didnt think
Drunk words are sober thoughts, Emily buttoned her coat. Andrew, lets go.
Andrew looked between his mother and his wife. Pain flickered in his eyes. He took Emilys hand.
Mum, youve ruined everything, he said softly. Emily spent a month on that painting. The fridge it was our last bit of savings.
They moved towards the door. The guests sat like statues. Only
