I thought youd only come to tidy up, the motherinlaw chuckled, rifling through my suitcases.
Do you even hear me, Jack? Im talking to you and youre glued to that phone!
Im listening. What did you want?
Emily clenched her fists. That detached tone, that indifference that had been building for months finally boiled over. Jack stared at the screen, not even blinking.
I wanted to discuss where well go on holiday. But you, as always, couldnt care less!
Emily, Im exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow?
Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! As if today doesnt exist!
Jack finally tore his eyes away. He glared at his wife, irritated.
Whats the point of hanging on? Works endless, my head aches. No time for a break now.
Youre always at work! When was the last time we actually talked? Went somewhere together?
Emily, enough. Dont start.
But the dam had already broken. Years of slights, halfspoken words, lonely evenings in a flat shed made a home all by herself.
Dont start? Do you even notice Im here? Am I just furniture to you? I cooked dinner, washed shirts, and you treat me like a rag?
Jack stood, shoved the phone into his pocket.
Im off to see Charles. This place is a circus of arguments.
Run! Emily shouted after him. As usual a conversation thats inconvenient, straight to a friend!
The door slammed. Emily stood alone in the middle of the room, hands trembling, a lump rising in her throat. She shuffled to the kitchen, splashed water on her face, sat at the table and rested her head in her hands.
Their marriage had once been bright. Laughter, plans, dreams. Now they were strangers sharing a roof. Jack was always at work or with friends; Emily spun around the house, cooking, cleaning, feeling invisible.
She grabbed her phone and texted her friend Claire: Can I stay with you?
The reply was instant: Of course! Whats happened?
Ill tell you later. Leaving in half an hour.
Emily never left for Claire. She sank into a chair, let her thoughts wander, and a sudden idea flickeredwhy not pop over to the village of Mrs. Margaret Hargreaves, her motherinlaw?
They hardly saw each other, but the relationship had always been cordial. Margaret lived alone in the large house her late husband had built. Jack rarely visited; he was always busy. Emily had helped out a few times, and Margaret was grateful.
Emily rose, marched to the bedroom, hauled an old travel trunk from the attic, and began stuffing it with dresses, sweaters, jeans, a makeup bag, books, a charger. She didnt know how long shed staymaybe a week, maybe longer. She needed quiet, breathing space, a chance to sort herself out.
When Jack staggered home late that night, she was already asleep. He slipped onto his side of the bed without touching her.
At dawn Emily rose early, dressed, grabbed the trunk, and left a note on the kitchen table: Went to your mothers. Will help her around the house. Ill return when Ive decided. She slipped out of the flat.
The coach to the village took three hours. Emily watched fields and woods blur past the window, a mixture of anxiety and an odd lightness settling over her. She hadnt stayed home to gnaw at herself or start another argument; she had simply gone.
The village greeted her with silence and the scent of freshly cut grass. Margarets house sat at the edge of the lane, beyond it the woods stretched. Emily opened the gate and walked the path. On the porch, Margaret was scrubbing potatoes in a large basin.
Emily? she asked, surprised. Where have you been?
Good afternoon, Mrs. Hargreaves. Ive come to stay with you.
Margaret wiped her hands on her apron, stood tall with broad shoulders and a kindly round face, her silver hair braided neatly.
Come in, come in! Jack with you?
No, Im alone.
Alone? Margaret glanced at the trunk. Staying long?
May I stay a while? I hope Im not a bother.
Of course, dear! Its a pleasure. Ill put the kettle on.
They moved through the cool hallway into a bright kitchen scented with dill and fresh bread. Jars of jam lined the windowsill, embroidered tea towels hung on the walls.
Emily set the trunk by the door. Margaret busied herself at the stove, pouring tea into cups, slicing a cake.
Sit down, you must be tired from the road. How was the journey?
Fine, thank you, Emily replied, trying to sound normal.
Is Jack working? Couldnt he break away?
Emily fell silent, unsure what to say. Margaret studied her.
Are you two fighting?
Yes, Emily whispered. Im weary, Margaret. I needed to get away for a while.
Margaret nodded, pouring tea.
I understand. Men can be hotandcold. You have to know how to handle them.
I dont think I know how, Emily said, wrapping her hands around the steaming cup. Or maybe hes stopped loving me.
Dont be foolish, Margaret waved a hand. Jack loves you. Hes just caught up in work, thats why hes become distant. Rest here, regain your strength. Youll see things improve.
Emily nodded, though she didnt truly believe it. She didnt want to argue.
Where could I sleep? she asked.
In the little room at the back. Fresh linens, just made. Margaret pointed.
Emily carried the trunk into a modest room with one window overlooking the garden. A bed, a wardrobe, a small table. She set the trunk on a chair and perched on the edge of the bed.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Jack: Read your note. Did you really go to your mothers?
Emily typed back: Yes.
Why?
Needed to.
When will you be back?
I dont know.
He wrote nothing more. She set the phone aside and stared at the ceiling, a strange mix of pain and relief swelling inside her.
That evening Margaret and Emily dined together. Margaret talked about the garden, the neighbours, a leaky roof that needed a tradesman.
Ive asked Jack to come and help, but hes always too busy, she said.
He really does work a lot, Emily observed.
Margaret sighed. He earns money, but life passes him by. He never visits his mother, never shows his wife any attention.
Emily stared, surprised. You see that?
Im not blind, dear. I see how youre drifting. You think Im just here to help with chores, not that I understand why youre here.
Sorry, Margaret, Emily said softly. I didnt mean to hide anything.
You didnt. You just kept silent. Thats your right. Stay as long as you need. I have company, you have rest.
Tears welled in Emilys eyes. Thank you. Youre very kind.
Margaret smiled. I went through the same once. My husband was a stubborn boy, never spoke. You have to talk, not just hide.
Emily listened, though she doubted cleverness would fix the deeper issue.
The next morning Margaret nudged her awake. Emily, get up! Lets water the garden before it wilts.
Emily slipped on old jeans and a tee, washed her face, and followed Margaret outside. Margaret showed her the tomato rows, handed her a watering can.
Here, water the roots. Over there, the cucumbers need a generous drink.
The work was soothing. Sun warmed her, the earth smelled fresh, her thoughts settled.
Afterward Margaret led her back inside. Breakfast time. Ive made pancakes.
They ate with jam and clotted cream. Margaret recounted how she met her late husband, how they built the house together.
It was hard, but we did it side by side. Thats what mattersbeing together. She glanced at Emily. You and Jack seem to live apart.
Yes, Emily admitted. Im a housekeeper in my own home. I cook, clean, and theres no conversation.
Your husband was like that from childhood, Margaret mused. Quiet, keeping everything inside. His father used to shout, Speak up, boy! but he stayed stubborn.
What do you do with a man like that?
Love him, endure him, but dont stay silent. Show him youre there. She looked deep into Emilys eyes. He may not know how to show it, but youre important to him.
Emily sipped her tea, wanting to believe, yet her heart thudded with doubt.
The day passed in choresstill gardening, sorting apples in the cellar, stitching a tablecloth. Evening found Margaret at the knitting washtub, inviting Emily to sit.
Come, sit. I have extra needles if you like.
Emily, who hadnt held a needle in years, settled beside her. The ticking of an old clock filled the quiet.
Emily, Im glad you came, Margaret said suddenly. It gets lonely alone. And I worry about Jack. Im scared youll drift further apart.
We already have, Emily whispered.
Its not too late, Margaret replied. If you dont want to stay, thats fine. But if you do, perhaps you can help Jack change.
Emily nodded, though she felt the weight of indecision.
That night she dreamed of a long corridor ending in Jacks silhouette. She called his name, but he didnt hear. He turned and vanished. She woke drenched in cold sweat, the room still dark.
Margaret noticed her reddened eyes. Bad night?
Not great, Emily admitted.
Margaret poured a cup of lemon balm tea. Drink. It soothes.
May I ask you something? Emily ventured.
Of course.
Did you ever regret marrying Jacks father?
Margaret thought a moment. Yes, especially when hed drink too much or stay silent for weeks. I thought of running away, but I didnt. I loved him, and I loved our children. We grew used to each other, found a rhythm.
And I dont want to just get used to him, Emily said. I want love, I want to be valued.
Thats right, Margaret agreed. You shouldnt endure terrible treatment. But sometimes a second chance is worth tryingtalk honestly, no shouting, no blame.
Is it already too late? Emily asked.
Not while you both breathe, Margaret replied.
A week slipped by. Emily fell into the gentle village rhythmmorning garden, breakfast, afternoon chores, evenings of stitching or chatting.
Jack called once a day, asking how she was, when hed return. Emily answered evasively; she didnt know herself.
One evening, while they sat on the porch, a neighbour, Aunt Vera, stopped by.
Oh, guests! she exclaimed. Whos this, Margaret?
My daughterinlaw, Emily.
Aha! So Jack hasnt come yet?
Hes at work, Margaret said shortly.
Aunt Vera snorted. Of course, the wife comes to tidy up while the husband is busy. Good for her!
Emily said nothing, letting the comment drift away.
When Aunt Vera left, Margaret smiled slyly. Let her think that. Itll keep the gossip quiet.
I didnt run away, Emily said later. I just paused.
I know, dear. I know.
A few days later Emily decided to unpack the trunk. Clothes were rumpled, needing ironing. She hauled the trunk into the kitchen, began pulling out dresses and shirts.
Margaret entered from the garden, saw the mountain of clothes and laughed.
I thought you were only here to clean up, she said, eyeing the pile. And now youre stockpiling for winter?
Emily froze, a dress in her hands.
Sorry, Margaret. I didnt mean to overstay your hospitality.
Dont be silly, Margaret patted her shoulder. Stay as long as you need. Tell me, are you thinking of staying forever or going back home?
Emily sat down, sighing. Honestly, Im not sure. Here I feel calm, but the thought of returning makes me uneasy.
So youre not ready yet, Margaret said. Time will tell.
She sat opposite Emily. Ill be frank: Jack is my son, I love him, but I see how hes hurt you. If you decide to leave, Ill understand. If you stay, help him become better. Teach him to cherish you.
What if he refuses to learn?
Then you must leave. Dont waste your life on someone who doesnt value you.
Emily nodded, grateful for the wisdom.
A few days later Jack called. Emily, stop this. Come home.
No.
Emily, youre my wife!
Youre a husband who doesnt give attention, who doesnt hear me.
He was silent.
Have you changed?
No, I havent. I just cant live like this any longer.
What do you want from me?
I want you present, not just in body but in spirit. I want us to talk, I want you to care about my life.
I do care! When was the last time you asked how Im doing?
He fell quiet.
Thats exactly why, Emily said. Think about it.
She hung up, hands trembling, but a new firmness settled in her chest. She finally voiced everything that had been building inside.
Margaret, standing in the doorway, said, Good. Let him think.
Days passed. Emily almost accepted the idea of staying here foreverhelping Margaret, working the garden, living a quiet life.
Then one morning a car pulled up to the house. Emily peeked out the window and frozeJack was there.
He stepped out, walked to the porch. Margaret opened the door with a smile.
Mum, hello.
Hello, love. Come in.
Jack entered, saw Emily at the stove, and paused.
Hi, he said.
Hi, she replied, spoon in hand.
Margaret slipped away to the garden.
Why are you here? Emily asked.
For you.
I dont want to go back.
Why?
Because nothings changed.
Jack moved closer. It has. I realized Im losing you. I dont want that.
Emily laughed bitterly. Youll say sweet things, then everything will revert to the old pattern.
No, he shook his head. This time its different. Youre the most important thing to me.
Tears welled in Emilys eyes.
Im tired of being invisible. I want to be loved, valued, needed.
You are needed, he said, taking her hands. Im sorry. I was a fool, buried in work, forgetting theres a home waiting for me.
How can I trust you?
Give me a chance. Ill prove it.
Emily looked into the eyes that had once made her heart flutter. Pain, remorse, and a flicker of hope tangled there.
Okay, she whispered. One chance. If you revert, Ill leave for good.
I wont, he promised.
Margaret returned from the garden, smiled at the pair.
So, are the lovebirds making up?
Were trying, Mum, Jack hugged his mother. Thanks for taking Emily in.
Its nothing, love. Shes a good wife. Look after her.
I will.
They left that evening. Emily hugged Margaret tightly.
Thank you for everything.
Visit again, dear. Next time bring your husband, and for a proper reason.
I will, I promise.
On the drive back, they were silent. Emily watched the countryside flash by, Jack glancing at her now and then.
Youll really give me that chance? she asked.
I will. Its the last one.
I remember.
When they pulled up to the flat, everything was as theyd left itfamiliar walls, the same furniture. Yet something inside Emily had shifted. She no longer felt like a stranger in her own home.
Jack set the suitcase down in the hallway. Help with dinner?
You? Emily asked, surprised.
Yes. I need to learn to help around the house.
She smiled, a tentative hope blooming. Perhaps this was the start of a new chapter, or perhaps just a calm before another storm. But as she stood beside her husband, a quiet optimism settled over her, and that felt like a victory in itself.
