Clear out a room, my parents will be living there now, James said, handing me the decision as if it were already settled.
Eleanor was hunched over her desk when a knock sounded on the office door. James glanced in, his eyes scanning the familiar space with an oddly new intensity.
May I come in? he asked, already crossing the threshold.
She nodded without looking away from the screen. The house had been left to her by Aunt Margaret five years earlier a spacious, sunlit threebedroom cottage in a leafy Surrey suburb. Eleanor had turned one of the rooms into a perfect home office, where order and silence ruled.
Listen, James began, settling on the edge of the sofa, my parents are complaining again about the city rush.
Eleanor finally turned. Ten years of marriage had taught her to read the tone of his voice. There was a hint of uncertainty now.
Mother says she cant sleep because of the noise, James continued. And Father keeps saying hes fed up with all the running around. On top of that, the rent keeps climbing.
I see, she replied curtly, turning back to her work.
But the talk of his parents didnt stop. Every evening James found a fresh excuse to raise their grievances the smog from the capital, noisy neighbours upstairs, the steep stairs in their block.
Theyre dreaming of peace, you know? he said once at dinner. A proper home, quiet and safe.
Eleanor chewed slowly, thinking. James was never a man of many words; his focus on his parents now felt strange.
What do you suggest? she asked cautiously.
Nothing special, he shrugged. Just thinking about them.
A week later, Eleanor noticed James slipping into her office more often. At first he claimed to be looking for documents; then he lingered simply because. He would stand by the wall, as if measuring something with his gaze.
Nice room, he remarked one evening. Bright, spacious.
Eleanor lifted her eyes from the papers. There was a new edge to his tone, something like assessment.
Yes, I like working here, she answered.
You know, James said, moving to the window, maybe you could shift your office to the bedroom? You could set up a workstation there as well.
Something tightened inside her. She set her pen down and stared at James.
Why should I move? Its comfortable here.
I dont know, he muttered. Just thought about it.
The idea of moving would not leave her alone. Eleanor began to notice how James surveyed the office, mentally rearranging the furniture, lingering at the doorframe as if already picturing a different layout.
Listen, he said a few days later, isnt it time to free up your office? Just in case.
The question came across as a decision already made. Eleanor flinched.
Why should I free up the room? she asked, sharper than intended.
Just thinking, James hesitated. I thought we could have a spare room for guests.
But she already understood. All those mentions of his parents, all those casual remarks about the office pieces of one plan, a plan that ignored her voice.
James, she said slowly, tell me straight. Whats happening?
He turned away to the window, avoiding her gaze. Silence stretched. Eleanor realised something had been decided without her.
James, she repeated firmly, whats going on?
He finally turned, his face frozen in embarrassment, then a flicker of resolve crossed his eyes.
My parents are really tired of the city rush, he began cautiously. They need peace, you know?
Eleanor rose from her desk, anxiety bubbling up, the kind she had tried to suppress for weeks.
And what do you propose? she asked, already guessing.
Were one family, James said, as if that explained everything. We have an extra room.
Extra. Her office, her sanctuary, her space an extra room. Eleanor clenched her fists.
This isnt an extra room, she said slowly. Its my office.
Yes, but you could work in the bedroom, James shrugged. My parents have nowhere else to go.
The line sounded rehearsed. Eleanor understood this wasnt the first conversation, just the first one with her.
James, this is my house, she said sharply. I never agreed to your parents moving in.
But you dont mind, do you? he countered, irritation edging his voice. Were family, right?
Again the excuse: family. As if being family automatically stripped her of a say. Eleanor stepped toward the window, trying to steady herself.
And what if I do mind? she asked without turning.
Dont be selfish, James snapped. Its about elderly people.
Selfish. For refusing to surrender her workspace. For insisting her opinion be heard. Eleanor faced him.
Selfish? she repeated. For wanting my opinion considered?
Come on, James waved his hand. Its a family duty. We cant abandon them.
Family duty. Another polished phrase meant to silence her. But Eleanor would no longer be mute.
And what about my duty to myself? she asked.
Stop dramatising, James brushed off. Its not a big deal, just move the computer to another room.
Not a big deal. Years of hard work crafting the ideal office, dismissed as not a big deal. Eleanor suddenly saw James as if for the first time.
When did you decide everything? she asked quietly.
I didnt decide anything, James tried to defend himself. Just thinking about options.
Youre lying, she said. Youve already spoken to your parents, havent you?
Silence spoke louder than words. Eleanor sat back down, trying to process the betrayal.
So you consulted everyone except me, she stated.
Stop it, James exploded. What difference does it make who talked to whom?
What difference. Her consent, her home what difference? She realised James was acting as the owner, ignoring her ownership rights.
The next morning James entered the kitchen looking like a man who had already made a final call. Eleanor sat at the table with a mug of tea, waiting for yesterdays conversation to continue.
Listen, he began without preamble, my parents have finally decided to move.
Eleanor looked up. There was no room for discussion in his tone.
Clear out a room now, my parents will live there, he added, as if delivering an order.
For Eleanor, that was the moment of revelation. They hadnt even asked her. James didnt just neglect to ask he excluded her entirely.
Her mug trembled in her hands. Everything swirled as the scale of the betrayal hit her. James stood waiting for her reaction, as if commanding a servant.
Are you serious? she said slowly. You just decided for me? I told you yesterday Im against it!
Calm down, James waved off. Its logical. Where else can they live?
Eleanor set the mug down and stood, her hands shaking with accumulated anger.
James, youve betrayed me, she said plainly. Youve put your parents needs above our marriage.
Dont dramatise, he muttered. Its family.
And what am I? A stranger? Eleanors voice sharpened. Youve crossed my boundaries and ignored my voice in my own home!
James turned away, clearly not expecting such a reaction. All these years she had obeyed his decisions. Now something had broken.
You treat me like staff, she continued. You decided I should endure in silence.
Stop the hysteria, James snapped, irritated. Nothing serious is happening.
Nothing serious. Her opinion dismissed, her space taken and that was nothing serious. Eleanor stepped closer.
I refuse to give up my room, she declared firmly. And I refuse to let your parents in when nobody invited them.
How dare you? James shouted. Theyre my parents!
And this is my house! Eleanor shouted back. I wont stay with a man who sees me as nothing!
James stepped back, finally seeing the fierce resolve in her eyes.
You dont understand, he began, confused. My parents are counting on us.
And you dont understand me, Eleanor cut in. Ten years and you still treat me like a piece of furniture.
She crossed the kitchen, gathering the words that had been building for years.
You know what, James? she said, turning to him. Get out of my house.
What? he blurted, taken aback. What are you talking about?
Im no longer willing to live with a man who doesnt consider me, Eleanor said, slow and clear.
James opened his mouth but found no reply. He hadnt expected this turn.
This is our house, he mumbled.
Legally, the house is mine, Eleanor reminded him coldly. And I have every right to ask you to leave.
James stood, stunned, as the reality of his actions sank in.
Eleanor, lets talk calmly, he tried. We can reach an agreement.
Too late, she cut in. The agreement should have been made before you decided.
James tried to object, but the stubborn fire in her eyes left him speechless. Eleanor was no longer the compliant wife who made endless concessions.
Pack your things, she said calmly.
A week later, Eleanor sat in her office, enjoying the silence. The house felt larger without the strangers. The order she cherished was finally restored.
She felt no regret, only a quiet certainty that she had done the right thing. For the first time in years, she defended her boundaries and selfrespect.
The phone rang. It was Jamess number. Eleanor let it go to voicemail and turned back to her work. Love and family cannot survive without respect, and no obligation to relatives gives anyone the right to trample on the person beside them.
She finally understood that.
