Make some space in the house; my parents are moving in, James said, as if the decision were already set in stone.
Emily was hunched over her laptop when a knock sounded on the office door. James slipped in, eyeing the familiar room with a suddenly unfamiliar stare.
May I come in? he asked, even though he had already crossed the threshold.
She gave a distracted nod, eyes still glued to the screen. The cottage, bequeathed by Aunt Margaret five years earlier, was a lightfilled threebedroom house in Kent. Emily had turned one of the rooms into a flawless home office a sanctuary of order and quiet.
Listen, James began, perching on the edge of the sofa, my parents are griping again about the city chaos.
Emily finally turned to him. Ten years of marriage had taught her to read his tone like a weather forecast. A hint of uncertainty flickered in his voice.
My mum says she cant sleep because of the noise, James continued. And dad keeps warning that hes fed up with the endless running about. On top of that, the rents shooting up every month.
Right, she replied tersely, slipping back into work.
But the subject of his parents refused to fade. Each evening James found a fresh excuse to raise their woes the smog over London, noisy neighbours upstairs, the steep stairs in the block.
Theyre dreaming of peace, you know? he said once over dinner. A proper home, far from the commotion.
Emily chewed her toast thoughtfully. James was rarely chatty, so this sudden focus on his parents felt odd.
So, what do you reckon we should do? she asked cautiously.
Nothing special, he shrugged. Just thinking about them.
A week later Emily noticed James drifting into her office more often. At first it was under the pretense of searching for paperwork, then simply because. Hed linger by the wall, as if measuring the space with his eyes.
Nice room, he remarked one evening. Bright, spacious.
Emily looked up from her spreadsheets. There was a new note in his tone, something like a silent appraisal.
Yes, I like working here, she said.
You know, James went, stepping up to the window, maybe you could move your desk to the bedroom? You could set up a little workstation there too.
Something tightened in Emilys chest. She set her pen down and stared at him.
Why would I move? Its perfect here.
I dont know, he muttered. Just thought about it.
Yet the idea of moving kept circling her mind. She began to notice how James scanned the room, mentally rearranging furniture, lingering at the doorway as if he already saw a different layout.
Listen, he said a few days later, maybe its time to free up your office, just in case.
The suggestion landed like a prewritten decree. Emily 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.
She understood then. All the talk about his parents, all the casual comments about the office they were pieces of a single plan, one that didnt involve her input.
James, she said slowly, cut to the chase. Whats really going on?
He turned his back to the window, avoiding her gaze. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken decisions.
James, she repeated firmly, whats happening?
He finally faced her, a flush of embarrassment crossing his features, but a flicker of resolve in his eyes.
Well, my parents are really weary of the city bustle, he began cautiously. They need a quiet place, you know?
Anxiety knotting in her stomach, Emily rose from her chair.
And what do you propose? she asked, already knowing the answer.
Were one family, James said, as if that cleared everything up. We have an extra room.
Extra. Her office, her refuge, her safe haven suddenly an extra room. Emilys fists clenched.
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. Emily realised this wasnt the first time this conversation had been rehearsed just the first time shed been caught in it.
James, this is my house, she said sharply. I never agreed to your parents moving in.
But you dont mind, do you? he shot back, irritation creeping in. Were family, after all.
Another family excuse. As if being family automatically stripped her of a say. Emily stepped toward the window, trying to steady herself.
And what if I do mind? she asked, not turning.
Dont be selfish, James snapped. Its about elderly people.
Selfish, he said, for not surrendering her workspace, for expecting a discussion. She turned back to 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 a tidy phrase to shut her up. But Emily was done staying silent.
What about my duty to myself? she asked.
Stop dramatising, he brushed off. Its no big deal, just move the computer somewhere else.
No big deal. Years of carving out the perfect office, reduced to no big deal. Emily finally saw James as if for the first time.
When did you get to decide everything? she asked quietly.
I havent decided anything, James began to defend himself. Just weighing options.
Youre lying, she said. Youve already spoken to your parents, havent you?
The silence that followed spoke louder than any rebuke. Emily sank back into her chair, trying to process the betrayal.
So you consulted everyone except me, she stated.
Stop it, James exploded. What does it matter who talked to whom?
What does it matter, she thought, as if her consent were optional. She realised James was acting as the sole owner of a home that was, in fact, theirs.
The next morning James strode into the kitchen looking like a man whod made a final call. Emily sat at the table with a mug of tea, waiting for yesterdays argument to continue.
Listen, he began without preamble, my parents have finally decided to move in.
Emily 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 issuing an order.
For Emily, it was a moment of revelation. They hadnt even asked her. James hadnt just failed to ask hed excluded her entirely.
Her tea trembled in her hands. Everything swirled as she grasped the scale of the betrayal. James stood, expecting a reaction like a servants.
Are you serious? she said slowly. You just decided for me? I told you yesterday Im against it!
Calm down, he waved off. Its logical. Where else would they go?
Emily set the mug down and rose, her hands trembling with a mix of anger and relief.
James, youve betrayed me, she said bluntly. Youve put your parents needs above our marriage.
Dont dramatise, he muttered. Its family.
And what am I, a stranger? Emilys voice sharpened. Youve crossed my boundaries and ignored my voice in my own home!
James turned away, clearly not expecting such a response. All these years shed gone along with his decisions. Now something had snapped.
You treat me like the help, she continued. Youve decided I should just endure in silence.
Enough hysteria, he snapped, irritated. Nothing serious is happening.
Nothing serious, he said, as if her opinion, her space, her home were inconsequential. Emily stepped closer.
I refuse to give up my room, she declared firmly. And I wont let your parents move in without an invitation.
How dare you? James erupted. Theyre my parents!
And this is my house! Emily shouted back. I wont stay with a man who sees me as a nobody!
James staggered back, finally seeing the fury in her eyes.
You dont understand, he began, bewildered. My parents are counting on us.
And you dont understand me, Emily cut in. Ten years and you still treat me like a toy.
She crossed the kitchen, gathering the words shed held back for years.
You know what, James? she said, turning to him. Get out of my house.
What? he stammered. What are you on about?
Im no longer willing to live with a man who ignores me, Emily said, slow and clear.
James opened his mouth, but no words came. He hadnt expected that.
This is our house, he muttered.
Legally, the house is in my name, Emily reminded him coldly. And I have every right to ask you to leave.
He stood, as if unable to comprehend. Shock hit him hed crossed an invisible line.
Emily, lets talk calmly, he tried. We can reach an agreement.
Too late, she replied. The agreement should have been made before you decided.
James tried to argue, but the stubborn set in Emilys eyes left him speechless. She was no longer the compliant wife who made concessions for years.
Pack your things, she said calmly.
A week later Emily was back in her office, enjoying the quiet. The house felt larger without the strangers. The order she prized was finally restored.
She felt no regret. A sense of rightness settled over her. For the first time in years she had defended her boundaries and selfrespect.
The phone rang. It was Jamess number. Emily let it go to voicemail and returned to her work. Love and family are impossible without respect, and no relatives debt gives anyone the right to trample on the person next to them.
She finally understood that.
