Dear Diary,
Your mother thats your burden! he shouted, but I had had enough. I buttoned up my sons coat, clenching my teeth to keep the anger at bay. Once again today I faced the ordeal I dread most: a visit to my motherinlaws house. From the start, our relationship has been a constant battle.
Margaret Hughes never accepted Emily as her sons wife. No matter what Emily did, Margaret always found a flaw, a criticism to hurl.
Again, Emily? Mark sighed, watching her stern expression. You dont want to go, do you?
Emily let out a bitter laugh.
Are you really asking me that, Mark? You know exactly why I dont want to go!
Her eyes flared.
Shell nag me again, put me down, tell me Im not raising our boy properly! She ignores the fact that I work, keep the house, cook, clean and pay every bill. Im the one holding this family together!
But youre at home all day, Mark said, shrugging.
Emilys gaze darkened.
Oh really? You think I just sit around doing nothing? Or that money falls from the sky?
I work too, he growled. Its not my fault Im not paid more.
The truth was that Emily, as a freelance designer, earned three times what I did. She was the main provider.
Cant you go alone? she asked, hoping for an escape.
Emily, its Mothers Day. You cant ignore my mum!
She sighed, finished dressing our son, and two hours later we were at Margarets.
In the sitting room, Marks niece, Lucy, was already there. Emily had long noticed that Margaret favored Lucy, treating her like royalty while scarcely acknowledging her own grandson. It wasnt a surprise Lucy had lost her parents five years earlier, and Margaret had raised her as her own.
Around them, Margarets sisters laughed loudly, clinking glasses of red wine.
Then, abruptly, Margaret dropped a bomb.
Ive made a decision, she declared solemnly. I will bequeath my flat to Lucy. You, Mark, already have a home.
Mark didnt flinch; he merely nodded.
A few days later the paperwork was done. The flat would belong to Lucy, on the condition she moved in only after Margarets death.
But fate had other plans.
A sudden stroke left Margaret paralysed, unable to care for herself.
Well have to move into mums house, Mark said firmly. She cant be left alone.
A cold wave ran through me. I knew what that meant I would have to feed, clothe, bathe her, all while still working and looking after our son.
I said nothing.
Weeks passed and I reached my limit.
That evening I finally exploded.
Mark, the flat belongs to Lucy. Shouldnt she look after mum?
Lucys at university, Mark, and she has a boyfriend. You expect her to bring him here?
I laughed, a sharp, icy laugh.
Mark, I cant take this any longer!
He crossed his arms.
Oh, I see. Youre tired already?
My hands trembled with fury.
Im suffocating! Everything rests on me! YOU, your mother, our child, my job I CANT GO ON!
But you work from home, he murmured smugly.
My stare cut sharper than shattered glass.
And what? You think I dont work at all?
My heart pounded wildly.
You know what? From now on its YOUR job to look after your mother!
Its my mother, but shes also your motherinlaw! Thats your role! You want me to wash her, perhaps?
A deathly silence fell.
Then I said, voice calm and icy:
I owe you nothing.
Mark snorted.
In that case, hire a care worker!
Oh? Youll pay for it?
Why should I be the one to pay?
No care worker then.
He crossed his arms again.
You can use mums pension. Or your salary?
His features hardened.
And why do I even have a wife?
That was the trigger. Something inside me finally snapped. Everything became blindingly clear. Mark had been using me for years. And Lucy? She never bothered to visit her grandmother.
That night I lay awake. By morning I knew what I had to do. As soon as Mark left the house, I packed my bag, took our son, and walked out.
I sent him one short text and blocked his number:
I wont carry this burden alone any longer.
Later that evening Mark stormed in.
Either you come back, or I file for divorce!
I smiled faintly.
Go ahead. I was about to.
For the first time Mark looked lost. I wasnt waiting for apologies. My decision was made.
A month later the divorce was finalized. Mark never apologized.
And me? I never regretted leaving.
Six months on, I heard the news. Margaret had died.
And Lucy? She threw Mark out without a hint of remorse.
Only then did he realise what hed lost.
The lesson Ive learned is that love should never become a onesided load; when the scales tip irrevocably, you must have the courage to set yourself free.
