I woke up at half past six because James was fiddling with his phone. The glow from the screen shot straight into my eyes, and from the next room I could hear my motherinlaw bang pots and pans in the kitchen. She got up at six each morning and woke the whole house with her clatter.
James, why arent you asleep? I asked.
Just watching a video, he replied without looking up.
I pulled the blanket back and sat up. The bedroom was tinyno more than twelve feet across. My old childsized room had been larger. Our belongings were crammed into two suitcases under the bed because my motherinlaw had taken over the wardrobe with her endless junk.
This is only temporary, love, she said. Ill sort it out and give you the cupboard back soon.
What was supposed to be temporary stretched into eight months of sharing that cramped space.
James, we need to talk, I said.
Give me a minute after breakfast, okay? he answered. Mums probably making crumpets.
Crumpets! I shouted, then quickly hushed, fearing she might hear. James, I dont care about crumpets. I want us to live on our own, understood?
He sighed. Here we go again. Emma, we agreed to save money first.
When did we agree? I sprang from the bed and threw on a robe. You said a few months. Its been eight! And you havent even tried to find a place of your own. Youre happy that Mum feeds you, does your laundry, cleans up after you. Then you come home from work and collapse on the sofa like a schoolboy after class!
Dont get so worked up, James stretched. Everythings fine. Were saving properly.
What money? I laughed. You earn about £1,800 a month and you dont want to look for a better job! You keep saying your uncles firm is comfortable and the team is great. With that salary well never build anything in five years!
James frowned. He hated it when I mentioned his pay.
But the job is stable. Im not hopping around every six months like you.
I felt a sting, but stayed quiet. Yes, I had been changing jobs, hunting for higher pay and a career path. I now earned £3,000 as an administrator at a private medical centre, with a promise of promotion to senior administrator at £4,000.
You know what, I said softly. Im tired of asking your mothers permission to hang a little shelf for my cosmetics in the bathroom. Im tired of her telling me Im frying potatoes wrong or ironing your shirts incorrectly. Im tired of pretending I enjoy watching her endless dramas in the kitchen every night because theres no TV in our room!
Emma, youre exaggerating, James protested. Mum isnt like that.
Your mum, I cut in, treats me like a temporary guest, someone who will disappear when a better one shows up. She slips salt into my tea by accident, she washes my underwear with your black socks and turns everything grey. Ive been quiet, hoping shell get used to me, but Im thirty, James! I want my own house, kids, not to remain a perpetual guest in someone elses flat!
James lowered his head. I could see the conflict tearing him between me and his mother.
Theres a onebed flat Mr. Harper is letting, I continued, £1,000 a month, empty of most furniture. Ive already seen it. Between the rent and food we can manage. Im saving £800 each month for a deposit. In two years we could afford a modest newbuild of our own.
Youve decided without me? he snapped. Youve been looking around! Thats supposed to be a joint decision!
Joint? I sneered. James, we never decide anything. All choices are made in your mums kitchen while you just nod. Even our holiday was to her sisters place in Devon, when I wanted a break in Brighton.
From the kitchen came my motherinlaws voice: Kids, breakfast! The crumpets are getting cold!
Im moving out the day after tomorrowwhether you come with me or not. If not, were divorcing. Your call, I declared, and left the room.
The whole day I drifted like in a fog. At work colleagues asked if I was ill; my pale face must have said yes. That evening I lingered in the shopping centre, aimlessly walking the corridors, hoping to gather my thoughts.
James wasnt home. My motherinlaw sat at the kitchen table sipping tea with jam.
Emma, dear, James told me you two are planning to move out, she said with a saccharine smile. Is that a joke?
She spoke sweetly, but her eyes were cold.
No, Mrs. Thompson, its not a joke, I replied.
Money down the drain! she hissed. Stay here, save! My husband and I lived with my mother for twenty years and we managed everything!
I dont want to save for twenty more years, I said. I want to live now.
Youre spoiled, she retorted. You think James will run after you? Hes obedient, he wont abandon his mother.
Time will tell, I said, and walked away.
James returned just before midnight. I pretended to be asleep, but he slipped onto the edge of the bed and whispered, Emma, I went to see the flat you mentioned.
Then? I asked.
Its decentbright, windows onto a courtyard, quiet. Ive taken it. Tomorrow we sign the lease. Mum shouted for half an hour, Dad stayed silent as usual. But I decided youre right. We need to start living for ourselves.
I could hardly believe my ears.
Really?
Really, he took my hand. Im sorry it took so long. I was scared wed fail, and I felt sorry for Mum. Shes alone, Dads always away on work trips. I thought Id be abandoning them.
James, were not moving across the country, just to another neighbourhood, I said. We can visit her every week.
I told her that, he chuckled. She said she didnt want to see me any more.
Itll pass, I told him, hugging him tight. Shell get used to it.
I also want James hesitated. I want a better job. Ill look, I promise.
I kissed him. Together we can do anything.
We moved on Saturday while my motherinlaw was away at the cottage. Jamess father helped haul the boxes up to the fourth floor. As he left, he said, Youre doing the right thing, kids. Young couples need their own space.
Living on our own taught us that love thrives when both partners are free to build a life together, not when they are chained to the expectations of others. The lesson was clear: a partnership grounded in mutual respect and independence creates a home worth fighting for.
