Ellie, take that off right now! Have you completely lost your sense of fear? Thats a silk blouseI havent even cut the tag off yet! Emma stood in the doorway of her own bedroom, unable to believe what she was seeing. The grocery bag slipped from her shoulder, thudding softly on the floor, but Emma paid it no mind.
In front of the fulllength mirror fitted into the wardrobe, the younger sister of her husband, Ellie, tried to capture her reflection on her phone. She was wearing the very same palerose silk blouse Emma had bought for herself as a reward after a promotion a week earlier, intending to wear it at an important meeting. The delicate fabric stretched over Ellies generous bust, the buttons straining as if they might burst like shrapnel.
Ellie flinched at Emmas shout, almost dropping her phone, but she quickly pulled on her signature pout of offended innocence.
Emma, why are you scaring me? I nearly had a heart attack, she replied, not even considering unbuttoning the blouse. I just tried it on. James said youd be late, so I thought I could snap a quick picture for my socials. In this colour I look like a goddess, dont I?
Emma felt a hot fury rise inside her. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, but the cloying scent of cheap, sugary perfume mixed with sweat hit her nose and snapped the last of her restraint.
Take it off. Right now. And put it on the bed. Do you understand that silk cant be stretched? Youre at least two sizes bigger than me, Ellie! Youll tear the seams!
Ellie rolled her eyes, but begrudgingly began fiddling with the buttons. Oh, here we go again, she sighed. Do you feel sorry for me? Were family. My mother and I share everythingwere constantly swapping clothes. Where does all this greed come from? Some bourgeois attitude, I suppose.
Emma stepped forward, fearing that Ellie might, in a flare of irritation, yank the fabric and rip the buttons right off.
That may be fine for a toothbrush you share with your mum, but these are my thingsmy wardrobe. I never gave you permission to rummage through it. How did you even get in here? Wheres James?
James went out to the shop for a loaf of bread, Ellie muttered, pulling the blouse off and tossing it carelessly onto the duvet. He let me in, said make yourself at home. I thought Id have a look at what the sisterinlaw has bought. Youre always hoarding clothes, never actually wearing them. Theyre just rotting in the closet.
Emma walked over to the bed and gently lifted the blouse. Dark damp stains spread under the armpits. The silk was ruined beyond repairwashing it was impossible, only drycleaning might help, and even that couldnt erase the lingering smell of someone elses deodorant.
Youve ruined this, Emma said quietly, the words sounding even more ominous. It cost £150.
Come off it, Emma! Itll look brand new after a wash. Its just a silly blouse, Ellie scoffed, adjusting her stretchedout Tshirt. By the way, I didnt just come over for a chatIm here on business. And youre shouting at me the moment I walk in. Hospitality, zero.
Just then the front door slammed, and Jamess cheerful voice echoed from the hallway.
Ladies, Ive got fresh rolls! Lets have tea!
James entered the bedroom, smiling, but his smile vanished the instant he saw his furious wife and his sister.
James, Emma said, holding the blouse between two fingers like evidence, why is your sister digging through my things again? We talked about this a month ago when she took my cashmere scarf without asking and returned it with a cigarette burn.
James scratched the back of his head apologetically, eyes flicking between his wife and Ellie. As usual, he was caught between two fires, trying to play the peacemaker and only making things worse.
Emma, calm down. Ellies just young, she wants to look nice. She only tried it onwhats the harm? She didnt steal it. Girls love to dress up, he said.
James, this isnt dressing up, its indecency! Emma shouted, flinging the blouse into the laundry basket, knowing she would never wear it againthe revulsion was too strong. She wore it on bare skin! She sweated in it! Would you even wear a neighbours underwear just to try it on?
Good grief, Emma, Ellie retorted, pouting. Im your sisterinlaw, not a neighbour. I freshened up before I left, so stop calling me dirty. James, say something! Shes humiliating me!
Enough! James raised his hands. Lets all calm down. Emma, Ill talk to her. Ellie, you really shouldnt take other peoples stuff without asking. Lets go have tea and cool off.
Emma refused the tea. She locked herself in the bedroom, hands trembling. This wasnt the first time her sisterinlaw overstepped, but today the audacity had crossed every line. Small things had gone missing beforetights, hairpins, a lipstick that later turned up in her motherinlaws bag. Oh, Ellie gave it to me, said the colour didnt suit you, her motherinlaw, Margaret, had once claimed.
Emma walked to the vanity to wash off her makeup and collect herself. Her gaze fell on a jar of night cream shed ordered from abroad, waiting two months for delivery. The lid was twisted crookedly. She opened it to find a deep gouge, as if someone had scooped out a generous spoonful with a finger. A streak of foundationdarker than her ownlined the rim.
No, thats too much, she whispered.
She stepped into the kitchen where James and Ellie were calmly sipping tea with rolls, chatting about nothing in particular.
Ellie, Emmas voice was weary but firm, did you go through my cosmetics?
Ellie didnt even pause. She took a bite of a buttered roll.
Just a little touchup. I was on my way home from work, my face was a mess. You have a whole shop in therejust a drop of cream or powder? You wont even use it all before it expires.
You touched my jar with dirty fingers! Emma felt nausea rising. Thats unhygienic! Now there are bacteria! Do you realize makeup is personal hygiene, like a toothbrush?
Oh, here we go again, Ellie rolled her eyes, looking at her brother. James, tell her! Shes gone mad. Bacteria, microbes were not in an operating theatre. My skins clean, thank heavens, no infections.
My skins clean because I look after it and dont let anyone near my jars! Emma snapped back. Listen, James. From today, your sister is not allowed into our bedroom, nor near my vanity. If I see my things touched again, Ill charge her. Im done with the blouse, but that cream? Ill toss it, and youll buy me a new one. It was £80.
How much?! Ellie gasped. Youre insane£80 for a jar of cream? I could dress headtotoe on sale for that! James, shes ruining you!
Its my money, Ellie. I earned it, Emma retorted. Im a senior analyst, not some freelance drifter.
Ellies face flushed, tears of anger welling up.
Youll even scold me for a slice of bread? Im having a tough time at work, but thats no excuse to be haughty! James, Im leaving! Im not welcome here!
She stood dramatically, knocked a chair over, and stormed out into the hallway. James chased after her.
Ellie, wait! Dont be angryshes just tired
A minute later the front door slammed shut. James returned to the kitchen, his expression gloomier than a cloudy London afternoon.
What was that for? he asked sharply. Shes crying. Couldnt you have explained it more gently?
Ive tried for three years, James. She never gets it. To her, my things are hers. Thats theft, plain and simplehousehold theft under the guise of family.
Alright, I understand, James sighed. Ill buy you a new jar of cream. Just no more dramas with your mother. Ellie will start complaining, and well have a fullblown family feud.
The next morning, Margaret called while Emma was still in bed, hoping for a quiet Sunday.
Emma, hello, Margarets voice was icy and formal. I hear from Ellie how you threw her out, called her a filthy thief, and cursed her belongings. Were all family here, yet you
Margaret, Emma interrupted, keeping her composure, Ellie ruined a £150 blouse and smeared your cream with filthy hands. Would you be pleased if I came over in your holiday dress, sweated in it, and then rummaged through your lipstick?
Youre missing the point! Ellie just wants to look pretty. Shes had a rough patchno money, a boyfriend who left. She needs support, not your lectures. You could have given her the blouse as a gift; it wouldnt have cost you a penny, Margaret retorted.
It wasnt a gift, its a silk blouse. Im not a charity shop. I can help with groceries or a loan, but my personal items are offlimits.
Youre selfish, Emma. Ive always known that, Margaret said. Fine, may the Lord judge you. Remember, the world is roundone day youll need help yourself.
She hung up. Emma stared at her cooling tea, feeling both guilty and justified. The family had a talent for guilttriping.
A week passed in uneasy calm. Ellie didnt show up, and Margaret didnt call. Emma relaxed, thinking the lesson had been learned. She bought a new cream and sent the blouse to the dry cleanersstains were gone, but she still didnt want to wear it, eventually listing it online for sale.
On Friday Jamess birthday, a modest family dinner was planned. Emma spent the evening cooking duck, chopping salads. She knew Margaret and Ellie would arrive, and she braced herself.
The guests arrived on time. Margaret pursed her lips but handed James a pack of socks. Ellie was oddly cheerful, gave James a quick cheek kiss, said Hello, and slipped into the living room.
The evening went surprisingly smoothly. Everyone praised the duck and chatted about the news. Emma thought perhaps she had overreacted and that the relatives had finally understood.
Excuse me, I need to touch up my powder, Ellie chirped after the third toast and disappeared toward the bathroom.
Emma tensed.
The bathroom is to the right, she called.
I know, Im not a child, Ellie replied dismissively.
Minutes passed. Ellie didnt return. Emma felt a knot forming. She apologized to the guests and headed toward the hallway. The bathroom door was ajar, dark inside. No sign of Ellie.
Emmas heart skipped. She rushed to the bedroom. The door was locked, a sliver of light leaking from beneath. She pulled the handlelocked from inside.
Ellie! Open the door this instant! she shouted, pounding on the wood.
Its its just a minute, Im changing! a muffled voice replied.
What do you mean changing? This is my bedroom!
James and Margaret burst in.
Whats happening? Another argument? Margaret demanded.
Shes locked herself in our bedroom! James, break the door if she wont open!
The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Ellie stood there, wearing the brandnew Italian stilettos Emma had saved for months, purchased in Milan at an outrageous price. The shoes, size 7¾, were clearly too small for her wide feet.
Ellie shifted from foot to foot, her face twisted in pain, trying to force a smile.
How do they look? Perfect for my dress, right? I just wanted to try them on
Emma stared at the ruined shoes. The supple leather was stretched, the backs crushed, the sides bulging as if the shoes would snap at any moment.
Take them off, Emma whispered, her voice cracking.
Come on, its nothingjust a little fitissue, Ill wear them to my date tomorrow Ellie began, but Emmas scream made the glass cabinets tremble.
REMOVE THEM! YOUVE RUINED THEM! THEY WERE £50! Emma roared.
Ellie yelped, trying to pull the shoe off. Her swollen foot was stuck, she flailed, grabbing the door frame for balance.
Mum, help! she cried.
Margaret lunged, and together they wrestled the damaged shoes off. Ellie stood barefoot, rubbing the red bruises on her heels.
Emma held the stilettos up. The leather was hopelessly stretched, the shape ruined. It was the end.
Enough, Emma said flatly. Both of you, leave right now.
Are you kicking us out on your husbands birthday? Margaret shouted, face turning beet red. James, will you let this happen?
James stood, looking at the torn shoes in his wifes hands. He knew how long Emma had saved for them, how proud she was. He also saw Ellies frightened face, still not comprehending the damage shed caused.
Mother, please go, he said quietly.
What? Margaret couldnt believe it.
Go. Ellie, youve crossed every boundary. This isnt just trying on. Its vandalism. You damaged something valuable. Leave.
Never again will my feet fit here! Ellie shrieked, grabbing her bag. Youll see
They slammed the door shut. Silence settled over the flat. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, still clutching the mutilated shoes, and weptnot for the footwear, but for the helplessness and betrayal.
James sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
Im sorry, Emma. I was a fool. I should have locked the bedroom door the moment it became a problem.
You need to install a proper lock, Emma said through tears.
What?
Put a solid lock on the bedroom door, with a key. And on the wardrobe too. Im tired of this every time they come.
The next day James called a locksmith. A sturdy deadbolt was fitted to the bedroom door.
A month later, relations with the extended family were frosty. Margaret called only James, complaining about his cruel wife. Ellie spread gossip that Emma was a miserly, meanhearted woman who wouldnt let a poor girl wear an old pair of shoes.
One evening, after a long day at work, James placed a box on Emmas bedside.
Whats this? she asked, surprised.
Open it.
Inside lay a brandnew pair of stilettos, identical to the ones Ellie had broken, still smelling of fresh leather.
I ordered them through a buyer, waited for delivery. Consider this a compensation for my mistake.
Emma embraced James, resting her head on his shoulder.
Thank you, but its not about the shoes, James.
I know. Its about respect. I talked to Margaret seriously and told her that if Ellie ever touches my things again, Ill cut off all financial help. She was angry, called me a henpecked husband, but she agreed. Ellie actually found a jobseems she realised she cant rely on free handouts forever.
Six months later the tension eased. Relatives began visiting again, cautiously at first, then more often. But the rules had changed.
Now, whenever Ellie came over, the bedroom door remained locked. The key sat in Emmas pocket. Ellie would snort, What, are you hiding gold bars or a corpse in there? Emma merely smiled and said nothing.
During a family lunch, Ellie excused herself to the bathroom. Emma, out of habit, tensed, but Ellie returned minutes later, makeup freshly applied, no extra items in hand.
Nice towel youve got in the bathroom, Ellie remarked, sitting down. Where did you get it?
From the shopping centre, on sale, Emma replied.
Send me the link? Id love one too.
Emma exchanged a glance with James. It was a small victory. Ellie asked where to buy something instead of stealing it.
Love between them never blossomed; they would never be best friends. But a quiet, orderly peace was far better than constant bickering. Emma learned the vital lesson that setting boundaries is not enoughyou must also defend them, sometimes with a lock on the door.
That night, after the guests had left, Emma opened her bedroom. Everything was in its place: creams sealed, clothes hanging neatly, shoes stored in boxes. The air was clean, free of foreign perfume. It was her sanctuary, her stronghold, and she knew it would stay that way.
James slipped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
You know, I actually like that lock, he whispered in her ear. Theres something private about it. Just for us.
Emma laughed. Just dont try to steal my aftershave cream, she teased.
Never. Lifes too short for that, he replied, smiling.
Life went on, with locks and boundaries, calm and secure. And Emma finally understood that protecting your personal space is worth any ruined blouse or broken shoe, for it guards the peace of mind we all need.
