15March
I found myself issuing an ultimatum to Emily after yet another of her frantic episodes. Either your mother moves out, or we divorce, I said, halfjoking, halfserious, as I stared at the clock. She was pacing the hallway, impatient. How much longer can we wait? Well be late!
From the bedroom, Andrew called out, Im ready, just need to fix my tie. He added, Wed be leaving already if you didnt change your outfit three times. Emily snapped, Dont start! I want to look decent at your company party, not like a drab mouse!
Andrew appeared in the doorway, tugging the knot of his tie. At fortyfive he still kept a trim figure, though a hint of silver showed at his temples. You always look lovely, he said softly, especially when youre not stressed.
Before Emily could answer, Mrs. Thompson, Emilys mother, stepped out of the kitchen clutching a mug of tea. Where are you two all dressed up for? she asked, eyeing us keenly.
Its Andrews company party, Mum, Emily replied, adjusting her earrings. I mentioned it this morning. Mrs. Thompson sipped her tea. Right, I forgot. Why so late? Its already nine oclock.
Were in a rush, Andrew replied, trying to stay calm despite the heat rising inside him. Emily, shall we take a cab? Or would you prefer I drive?
Take a cab, please. Id like you to relax as well, Emily said, pulling out her phone.
Exactly, Mrs. Thompson interjected. Men are always first for a drink, but when it comes to responsibility they hide in the bushes.
I clenched my teeth, counting to ten. Every comment from my motherinlaw felt like an accusation, even the harmless ones about the weather.
Please, Mum, Emily whispered, casting a apologetic glance at me.
Fine, Ill be quiet, Mrs. Thompson retreated to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar to eavesdrop.
The cab should be here in five minutes, Emily murmured, slipping her phone into her evening bag.
Alright, I said, picking up my jacket. Did you take the keys?
Yes, I have them.
Mrs. Thompson reentered the hallway. When will you be back? Should I lock the door for the night?
Dont lock it, Mum. We have our own set of keys.
And if you lose them? Or drink too much? she asked skeptically.
We wont lose them, I retorted. I know my limits.
Everyone says that, then, she began, but the doorbell interrupted us. The cab pulled up and I exhaled in relief. Another evening without more of her remarks.
Dont stay out too late! Mrs. Thompson shouted after us.
In the back seat, Emily squeezed my hand. Sorry about my mum. Shes just worried.
Of course, I replied, watching the dark streets pass by, the lamplight flickering. Sometimes I imagined slipping into that crowd, free of the constant feeling that every step I took was being judged.
Three months ago Mrs. Thompson moved in after Emilys father passed away. It was supposed to be temporary, just until she got used to life without him. Yet a temporary fix had turned into a permanent arrangement, and our threebedroom flat began to feel more like a cage.
The company party was held in a stylish restaurant in the heart of London. The décor was elegant, live music filled the room, colleagues in festive attire set a pleasant tone. I gradually relaxed, chatting with coworkers and their partners. Emily shone in her darkblue dress, turning heads everywhere.
Your wife is wonderful, said Victor Sinclair, the company director, as we lingered at the bar. A true lady.
Thank you, I replied proudly, watching Emily animatedly chat with Victors wife. Were lucky.
How long have you two been married? he asked.
Fifteen years this April.
Impressive, Victor nodded. Do you have children?
No, I shook my head. It just never worked out.
That was a sore spot. Emily and I had tried for years, undergoing countless tests and treatments. Doctors kept saying everything was fine, just a matter of patience. Eventually Emily decided we were happy enough as a couple.
The evening progressed. I had a couple of glasses of winenever more, I always kept my own limit, unlike Mums opinion. By eleven I was ready to go home.
Shall we stay a bit longer? Emily suggested, We just started dancing.
Lets have another half hour, then head back, I agreed. Tomorrow I have work.
She smiled and led me onto the dance floor. To a slow melody we swirled, like when we were younger. I held her close, inhaling the scent of her perfume, feeling that perhaps things werent so bad after all. Mums meddling seemed distant for a moment; many families live under one roof with parents.
We arrived back around midnight. The flat was still lit, though we hoped Mrs. Thompson was already asleep.
They finally showed up, a voice announced as we crossed the threshold. I thought Id have to call the police.
Mum, its just a regular company party, Emily sighed, exhausted.
In my day respectable people didnt get home that late, Mrs. Thompson muttered, pursing her lips. And youre still smelling of alcohol, Andrew.
Ive only had two glasses all night, I tried to stay calm.
Everyone says that, Emily interjected. Lets talk tomorrow.
Of course, of course, Mum huffed dramatically. Im invisible here, my opinion doesnt matter.
I slipped to the bathroom, letting the hot shower wash away the irritation and fatigue. Fifteen years of marriage and I had never felt such tension. When I returned, Emily was already in bed.
Dont mind Mum, she whispered. Shes still grieving Dad.
I understand, I lay beside her. But this has been going on for three months. We cant even have a normal conversation without her hovering.
Give her time, Emily said, rubbing my forearm. Shell adjust.
I wanted to admit that I feared getting used to constant criticism, the need to justify every move, the lack of personal space. I stayed silent. Emily drifted to sleep while I braced myself for a demanding workday ahead.
Morning began with the smell of fried fisha scent Ive loathed since childhood, and Mum knew it well. I shuffled into the kitchen, grimacing.
Good morning, Mum grumbled. Breakfast is almost ready.
Thanks, but Ill eat at work, I poured coffee, hurrying.
Always in a hurry, she sighed theatrically. My cooking isnt good enough for a senior manager.
Its not that, I took a sip. Im just rushed.
Emily will have breakfast at home, as a proper wife should, she declared, plating a sizable piece of fish. Unlike some who run around like lunatics.
I finished my coffee in silence and left the kitchen. In the hallway, a sleepy Emily appeared.
Already leaving? she asked.
Yes, a lot to do. I kissed her cheek. Your mum made fish.
Oh, not again, Emily winced. Ill speak to her.
No need, I said tiredly. It wont change anything.
The workday dragged on, my mind constantly drifting back to home. At lunch Emily called.
Hey, hows it going? her voice sounded strained.
Fine, work. Whats up?
Mum was rummaging through your wardrobe, saying she was tidying up. I told her you dont like anyone touching your things and she got upset.
Im fed up, I burst. Why does she think she can run the house?
She just wants to help, Emily defended. Shes so active, needs something to do.
Let her mind her own business! I snapped, realizing my colleagues could hear. Ill call back later. I hung up and stared out the window, wondering if we should ask her to move back to her old flat. She had sold it soon after her husband died, saying the memories were too much, leaving us with no fallback.
That evening I stayed late at the office, reluctant to return home. When I finally got back, Emily met me with a guilty look.
What happened? I asked, slipping off my shoes.
Mum accidentally broke your model aircraft, she said quietly. The one you brought back from Germany.
My heart stopped. That rare Messerschmitt was a pride of mine, painstakingly assembled over months.
Accidentally? I asked.
Yes, she was vacuuming, hit the wardrobe, and the model fell.
How did she get into my study? anger welled up. We agreed that was offlimits!
She wanted to be nice, Emily said, eyes downcast. She knew Id be late and thought cleaning would help.
Where is she? I demanded.
Shes at the neighbours, said shed return once Im calmer.
I entered the study to find the wreckage: broken wings, fuselage split in two. Months of meticulous work lay in fragments.
This is the last straw, I whispered, looking at the shattered plane.
Andrew, please, Emily pleaded from behind. She didnt mean it.
Its not about the plane, I turned to her. Its about your mother not respecting our space, our rules, our relationship. Shes constantly interfering.
Shes just worried about us, Emily defended, but her voice lacked conviction.
No, shes not worried. Shes controlling, and I cant live like this any longer.
What do you mean? Emilys eyes widened with fear.
Either your mother moves out, or we divorce, I said firmly. Im not joking. Im at my limit.
Emily recoiled as if struck. You cant be serious! You want to kick my mum out?
Im not kicking her out. She could rent a flat nearby. Wed help financially, visit, whatever. But living under the same roof is impossible for me.
What if I choose my mum? she asked softly.
Then well have to part ways, I replied, equally quietly. Fifteen years Ive put you first, but the past three months I feel like a guest in my own home.
Tears streamed down Emilys face. Thats unfair! Mums alone, she needs support!
And I need my wife, my home, a place where I can unwind without another comment or intrusion.
At that moment the front door slammed openMrs. Thompson had returned. Hearing our voices, she marched in.
So youve already told me nasty things about me? she snapped. I only wanted the best. And that dusty toy of yours is already a relic, no use at all.
Mum! Emily cried. Not now, please.
When will you listen to the truth, Andrew? When will you finally hear me? she snarled.
Enough, I interrupted, surprised by my own composure. Mrs. Thompson, shall we sit and talk like adults?
She fell silent, surprised. We moved to the living room, settling: me in the armchair, Emily and her mother on the sofa.
I understand your grief, I began. Losing a husband after so many years is hard. But you must also understand us. Emily and I have built a life together for fifteen years, and now its under threat.
Because of me? she huffed.
Yes, I answered bluntly. Because of the constant control, the remarks, the intrusion. I feel like a stranger in my own house.
This is my home now too, Mrs. Thompson retorted stubbornly.
Thats why Im speaking to you, I continued calmly. I think it would be better if you lived separately.
Youre throwing my daughter out onto the street? she exclaimed, flinging her hands. Thats absurd!
No one is being thrown out, I said patiently. Well help you find a nearby flat, visit, support you financially.
And if I refuse? she crossed her arms.
Then, Im afraid Emily and I cannot continue living together, I said, looking at my wife. Ive already told her.
Youre a blackmailer! she shouted. Emily, youre tolerating this?
Emilys face turned red, tears glistening. I dont know what to do, Mum. I love you both. But Andrew is rightthe last few months have been tough for everyone.
So you also want me to leave? she asked, hurt in her voice.
I want us all to be happy, Emily whispered. Right now, no one is happyneither you, nor Andrew, nor me.
Silence settled. Mrs. Thompson looked between daughter and soninlaw as if seeing them for the first time.
I never imagined it would get this bad, she finally said. I thought I was helping.
We appreciate your care, Andrew said gently. But sometimes care can become overbearing.
Mrs. Thompson lowered her head. After your father died I was terrified of being alone, of the silence. Thats why I intervened, tried to controlso Id feel needed.
Emily embraced her mother. We love you, Mum. Youll always be part of our lives. But perhaps Andrew is rightmaybe its better if you live nearby but not under the same roof?
Mrs. Thompson stayed quiet for a long moment, then sighed. Perhaps youre right. I didnt want to admit it, but Ive overstepped. Its hard to accept that Im no longer the centre of my daughters world.
Youll always be important to us, Andrew replied. We just need to respect each others boundaries.
We talked for hours about plans, futures, and how to rebuild our relationships. For the first time in three months I felt heard. I saw my motherinlaw not as an enemy but as a lonely woman afraid of being useless.
The next day Emily found an advertisement for a onebedroom flat in the next block. Andrew and I viewed it, paid the deposit, and helped Mrs. Thompson move in a week later.
Are you still angry with me? Emily asked when we returned to our flat after the move.
For what? I replied, surprised.
For the ultimatum. It was harsh.
Sometimes you have to be firm to protect what truly matters, I said, pulling her into an embrace. I didnt want to lose you, but I couldnt keep going like that.
You know, Emily mused thoughtfully, maybe its for the best. Mum sounds almost happy now. She said shes joined a seniors club.
See? She needed her own life, not just caring for us.
We sat on the sofa in the quiet of our home, enjoying the peace. Emilys phone buzzeda message from her mother with a photo of her new sitting room, fresh flowers and family pictures.
Looks like we did it, Emily smiled.
I nodded, feeling the tension of the past months melt away. Sometimes you have to push to the edge to find a new path, sometimes you must risk everything to keep whats most important. Even the toughest ultimatums can lead to a happy ending for everyone.
