“Im moving in with you!” declared his mother-in-law cheerfully. “I cant possibly live under a bridge!”
“Mum, Emily and I have decided to rent a flat,” James replied, meeting her gaze with quiet resolve. “Just a small place, nothing fancy. We dont need much.”
Margaret, who had been folding laundry into the wardrobe, spun around sharply, clutching a tea towel to her chest.
“What nonsense is this? Wasting money like that? Have you lost your mind, James? Use your head! Theres a perfectly good room here!”
James sighed. Hed braced himself for this reaction, but part of him had hoped shed understand. He was a grown man now, about to be marriedstarting his own family. Even if it was just a rented flat for now, it would still be *theirs*.
“Mum,” he said patiently, “Emily and I need our own space. Were young, we need to figure things out together. But here well, its your house. Your rules.”
“And whats that supposed to mean?” Margaret snapped, offended. “Do you think Ill interfere? I wont breathe down your necks! Youll have your room, Ill have mineits perfectly sensible!”
James rubbed his temple, searching for the right words. Reasoning with his mother was like talking to a brick wall. She was convinced she knew best, and arguing only made things worse.
“Mum, I work on rotationyou know that. Im away for weeks at a time. Emily would be here alone”
“All the more reason!” Margaret cut in, eyes gleaming triumphantly. “Shell be lonely without you. But Ill be herekeeping her company, helping out, giving advice. Dont you *want* me looking after your wife?”
James realised it was pointless. The decision had already been made for him. And just as hed feared, she announced:
“Thats settled then! After the wedding, youll move in here. Once youve saved up properly, *then* you can think about your own place.”
Emily took it all with a quiet wisdom beyond her twenty-two years. She didnt argue, didnt sulk. She just nodded, smiled, and stayed neutral. At first, Margaret was pleased. “See, shes well-mannered, a good match for my son.” But soon it became clearEmilys silence wasnt agreement. It was just her way of keeping the peace.
After the wedding, the newlyweds moved into that very room. It was cosybright, with a balconyif you ignored the fact that every attempt at independence was overshadowed by Margarets presence.
Sometimes, Emily felt like a lodger in her own home. Every action sparked commentary; every silence was met with suspicion. All masked under a brittle veneer of politeness. Margaret rarely argued outright. She preferred pointed remarks, heavy sighs, and sly little digs.
When Emily swapped the heavy old curtains for lighter ones, Margaret was quick to comment:
“White? Youll see every speck of dust! Youll be washing them every week if you insist on being *trendy*.”
Emily just smiled. “I dont mind washing them.”
The unspoken rule was clear: endure it. James was working, saving money. All for their own place someday.
But with each passing day, the tension between the two women grewquiet, unspoken, but impossible to ignore. And one day, it was bound to snap.
When Emily discovered she was pregnant, her heart swelled with joy. She caught herself smiling at strangers in the street, at trees, at nothing at all. She and James had longed for a child, and noweven without their own home, even with all the strugglesit felt like things were falling into place.
James was on rotationa long one, two monthsso she shared the news over the phone.
“Hang in there,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Ill try to get back early, and well sort everything out.”
Margaret, upon hearing the news, only grew more critical. She muttered about Emily being “not ready for motherhood,” complained she “lazed about all day,” despite having once moaned about how difficult *her* pregnancy had been.
But the real blow came unexpectedly.
One mild May evening, returning from a prenatal check-upwhere everything was confirmed to be fineEmily found a stranger in the flat. A man in his sixties, lounging at the kitchen table, sipping tea from *their* mug as if he belonged there. Margaret introduced him as “a dear friend.”
“Im a woman too, you know!” she declared proudly. “Ive a right to my own life.”
Emily said nothing. All she could think was how cramped the flat would be with four people when it was already tight for three. The next day, Margaret made her move.
“Emily, youll need to clear out the room,” she said firmly, setting down her teacup with a clink. “William is moving in. Were adultswe deserve our own happiness.”
Emily sat frozen, barely breathing.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she whispered, fighting back tears.
“Whats there to think about!” Margaret waved a hand dismissively. “Youre young, healthy! Rent somewhereyoure not royalty! James works, he earns decent moneyyoull manage.”
Emily opened her mouth to protest, but Margaret was already reaching for the phone.
“Ill call James. Hell explain it to you. Clearly, you dont understand.”
James answered at once, his voice weary. He must have just finished his shift.
“Mum? Whats wrong?”
Margaret switched to the saccharine tone she reserved for her son and launched into her version of events.
“James, tell your wife to move out! Williams coming to live here, and Emilys being difficultshe wont budge!”
Silence stretched on the other end. Then, quietly:
“Mum, just wait. Ill be home soon. Emily and I will move outjust give us a little time.”
“Im not waiting!” Margaret snapped. “Ive only got one life, and Im not getting any younger! I want to live properly, not tiptoe around. She
