Make space in the house; my parents will be moving in, James said, handing me the decision as if it were already settled.
Emily was bent over her desk when a knock sounded at the office door. James slipped a glance inside, looking at the familiar room with a suddenly different perspective.
May I come in? he asked, though he had already crossed the threshold.
She nodded without looking away from the screen. The house had come to her five years earlier from her Aunt Agnes. It was a bright, airy threebedroom cottage on the outskirts of York. Emily had turned one of the rooms into a perfect studyorder and quiet ruled there.
Listen, James began, perching on the edge of the settee, my parents are complaining again about the citys bustle.
Emily finally turned toward him. Ten years of marriage had taught her the subtle shifts in his voice. Now there was an edge of uncertainty.
My mother says she cant sleep because of the noise, James continued. And my father keeps saying hes tired of all the rushing around. On top of that, the rent keeps climbing.
I see, she replied shortly, returning to her work.
But the mentions of his parents did not cease. Each evening James found a fresh excuse to bring up their grievancessometimes the smog from the town, sometimes the clatter from the upstairs neighbours, sometimes the steepness of the old stone staircase.
They long for peace, you know? he said once at dinner. A proper home, away from the din.
Emily chewed slowly, considering. James was not usually talkative; his sudden focus on his parents woes felt odd.
What do you suggest? she asked cautiously.
Nothing special, he shrugged. Just thinking about them.
A week later Emily noticed James entering her study more often than before. At first he claimed to be looking for paperwork; then he lingered for no apparent reason, measuring the space with his eyes.
Nice room, he remarked one evening. Bright and spacious.
Emily looked up from her papers. There was something new in his tone, a hint of appraisal.
Yes, I like working here, she answered.
You know, James said, moving to the window, perhaps you could shift your desk to the bedroom? You could set up a little office there too.
Something tightened inside Emily. She set her pen down and stared at him.
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. She began to notice James scanning the room, mentally rearranging 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 the study? Just in case.
The question sounded as if the decision were already made. Emily flinched.
Why should I clear out the room? she asked, sharper than she intended.
Just thinking, James hesitated. I figured we might need a spare for guests.
She understood then. All the talk about his parents, all those casual remarks about the studythey were parts of a single plan, one that ignored her wishes.
James, she said slowly, be straight with me. Whats going on?
He turned away toward the window, avoiding her gaze. Silence stretched. Emily realised something had already been decidedwithout her.
James, she repeated firmly, whats happening?
He finally faced her, his expression a mix of embarrassment and resolve.
My parents are really fed up with the citys hustle, he began cautiously. They need peace, you know?
Emily rose from her desk, anxiety swelling after weeks of suppressed worry.
And what are you suggesting? she asked, though she already knew.
Were one family, James said, as if that explained everything. We have an extra room.
Extra. Her study, her sanctuary, now an extra room. Emilys fists clenched.
This isnt an extra room, she said slowly. Its my study.
Yes, but you could work in the bedroom, James shrugged. My parents have nowhere else to go.
The line sounded rehearsed. Emily realised this conversation was not the first, just the first 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, after all.
Family. As if belonging to a family automatically stripped her of a voice. Emily stepped toward the window, trying to calm herself.
And what if I do mind? she asked without turning.
Dont be selfish, James snapped. Its about the elderly.
Selfish. For not wanting to surrender her workspace. For believing such decisions should be discussed. Emily faced him.
Selfish? she repeated. For wanting my opinion considered?
Come off it, James waved a hand. Its a family duty. We cant abandon them.
Family duty. Another polished phrase meant to shut her down. But Emily would no longer be silent.
And what about my duty to myself? she asked.
Stop dramatising, he dismissed. Its not a big deal, just move the computer to another room.
Not a big deal. Years of painstakingly creating the perfect study dismissed as trivial. Emily finally saw James as she had never seen him before.
When did you get to decide everything? she asked quietly.
I didnt decide anything, James began to defend himself. Just thinking about options.
Youre lying, she said. Youve already spoken to your parents, havent you?
The silence that followed spoke louder than any words. Emily sank back into her chair, trying to process the situation.
So you consulted everyone except me, she stated.
Enough, James exploded. What does it matter who talked to whom?
What did it matter? Her opinion, her consent, her homewhat mattered? Emily realised James was acting as though he owned the house, ignoring her ownership.
The next morning James entered the kitchen looking like a man who had made a final decision. Emily sat at the table with a mug of tea, waiting for the continuation of yesterdays argument.
Listen, he began without preamble, my parents have finally decided to move.
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, that moment was a revelation. They hadnt even asked her. James hadnt just failed to askhe had excluded her entirely.
The mug trembled in her hands. Everything turned over as she grasped the depth of the betrayal. James stood waiting for her reaction as if commanding a servant.
Are you serious? she said slowly. Youve taken it upon yourself to decide for me? I told you yesterday Im against it!
Calm down, he waved off. Its logical. Where else could they stay?
Emily placed the mug down and stood. Her hands shook with a mix of anger and resolve.
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? 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 she had acquiesced to his decisions. Now something had broken.
You treat me like staff, Emily continued. You decided I should endure and stay silent.
Stop the hysteria, James snapped, irritated. Nothing serious is happening.
Nothing serious. Her opinion dismissed, her space takennothing serious? Emily moved closer to him.
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 live with a man who sees me as nothing!
James stepped back, seeing her genuine fury for perhaps the first time in many years. In her eyes burned a resolve he had never noticed.
You dont understand, he began, confused. 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 her thoughts. Words that had been building for years finally burst forth.
You know what, James? she said, turning to him. Get out of my house.
What? he was taken aback. What are you talking about?
Im no longer willing to live with a man who doesnt consider me, Emily said, slow and clear.
James opened his mouth but found no words. He had not expected this turn.
This is our house, he mumbled.
Legally, the house belongs to me, Emily reminded him coldly. And I have every right to ask you to leave.
James stood as if in disbelief. In shock he realised he had crossed an invisible line.
Emily, 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 saw such stubbornness in her eyes that his words stuck in his throat. Emily was no longer the compliant wife who made concessions for decades.
Pack your things, she said calmly.
A week later Emily sat in her study, enjoying the quiet. The house felt larger without the strangers. The order she cherished was finally restored.
She felt no regret. A sense of rightness settled within her. For the first time in many years she had defended her boundaries and her selfrespect.
The phone rang. It was Jamess number. Emily declined the call and returned to her work. Love and family cannot exist without respect, and no sense of duty to relatives gives anyone the right to trample on the person standing beside you.
She understood that, at last.
