Dont you dare dress like that in my house, hissed the mother-in-law in front of the guests. Emma, have you seen my reading glasses? I think I left them on the coffee table, Margaret glanced into the kitchen, where her daughter-in-law was putting the finishing touches on a festive salad.
Check the case, Margaret. I tidied the living room and put them there, Emma replied without looking up from slicing vegetables, ensuring each piece was perfect.
Margaret pursed her lips but said nothing. In her mind, no one should touch anothers belongingseven with good intentions. Especially not hers. But with guests arriving soon, she bit back her irritation. Today was important, and unnecessary quarrels would only spoil the evening.
Thirty years ago, Margaret had moved into this spacious home with its high ceilings and antique furniture passed down from her own mother-in-law. Every corner had been carefully arranged, every item in its rightful place. Though the house legally belonged to her son James now, she still considered herself its true mistress.
Emma had lived with them for only two years. To Margaret, the marriage had been an unpleasant surpriseJames had brought home a woman hed known for barely three months. Confident, university-educated, and with what Margaret considered far too modern a worldview.
The salads nearly done, Emma said, arranging it on a serving platter. I just need to change before everyone arrives.
I hope youre not planning to wear that red dress? Margaret remarked casually, smoothing her immaculately styled silver hair.
Emma stilled for a moment before meeting her mother-in-laws gaze.
Actually, thats exactly what I planned to wear, she replied evenly. James picked it out for our anniversary.
Its hardly appropriate for a family dinner, Margaret said sharply. Far too revealing. You have that lovely navy dress I gave you last Christmasthe one with the modest collar.
Emma took a slow breath. That dress, which resembled a schoolgirls uniform, had been worn exactly onceto avoid offending Margaret. Since then, it had hung untouched in the back of her wardrobe.
Margaret, at thirty-two, I think I can decide what to wear, she said calmly but firmly.
Of course, Margaret replied with a strained smile. Just remember, my friends are coming tonight. People of a certain generation. With certain expectations.
Without waiting for a response, she left the kitchen, leaving Emma alone with unspoken frustrations simmering beneath the surface.
In the bedroom, James was buttoning up a freshly pressed shirt. Seeing his wife, he grinned.
All set for the grand occasion?
Almost, Emma said, pulling the red dress from the wardrobe. Your mothers already lecturing me about my outfit.
James sighed. Dont take it to heart. She just worries about appearances.
Appearances, or *my* appearance? Emma inspected the dress. It was elegant, though undeniably boldwith a deep neckline and a thigh-high slit. But nothing outrageous.
Emma, not tonight, alright? James wrapped his arms around her. This means a lot to Mum. Thirty years in this houseits practically her whole life.
And Id like to keep my self-respect, Emma said quietly. Im not a child to be told what to wear.
James hesitated, torn between supporting his wife and avoiding conflict.
Wear what you like, he finally said. Youre beautiful in anything.
Emma kissed his cheek, forcing down her irritation for his sake.
Guests began arriving at six. First came Margarets oldest friends, Patricia and her husband, followed by sharp-eyed neighbour Dorothy with her quick tongue. The rest were Margarets longtime acquaintances, all of a similar age.
Emma and James greeted everyone in the foyer, exchanging pleasantries while Margaret held court in the living room, recounting tales of her youth.
When Emma returned to the kitchen for the final touches, she found Margaret pulling a golden pie from the oven.
Ill bring out the hot dishes, Emma said. Theyve been asking about your famous gratin.
Margaret nodded, but her eyes lingered on Emmas neckline. The dress hugged her figure flawlesslyelegant, yet bold. To Margaret, it was nothing short of scandalous.
Couldnt you have chosen something more modest? she muttered.
Weve already discussed this, Emma said evenly. Its perfectly appropriate.
In my day, family dinners didnt call for such exhibitionism. Margaret slammed the pie down with unnecessary force.
Emmas cheeks burned, but she bit back her retortnot now, not in front of guests.
Back in the living room, laughter filled the air as James entertained the crowd. Emma set the gratin on the table and moved to sit beside him, but Margaret intercepted.
Emma, darling, could you fetch more bread? Weve run out.
A liethe bread basket was nearly full. But Emma nodded and turned toward the kitchen. As she left, she overheard Margaret whisper to Patricia:
Honestly, young people today have no sense of decorum.
Emma clenched her fists, exhaled slowly, and returned empty-handed.
Theres plenty of bread, Margaret. She took her seat beside James.
Margarets lips thinned, but she stayed silent. The evening continuedtoasts, stories, polite conversation. Emma smiled and played her part, but tension thickened between them.
Over dessert, Dorothy suddenly remarked, Your daughter-in-laws a stunner, Margaret! That red dressshe could be on a magazine cover!
Margaret forced a smile. Emma does have her own style. Though modesty never goes out of fashion.
Oh, nonsense! Dorothy waved a hand. If I had her figure at her age, Id wear the same! Good for you, dearenjoy it while you can!
Emma smiled gratefully. Just then, the kettle whistled from the kitchen.
Ill make tea, she offered, standing.
Margaret rose too. Ill help.
In the kitchen, Margaret shut the door and turned on Emma, her face contorted with suppressed fury.
How dare you humiliate me in front of my guests! she spat. That dress is vulgar, indecent
Emma stepped back, stunned. Margaret, its just a dress
Dont play innocent! Margaret hissed. You wore it to spite me! To flaunt your defiance!
I wore it because its beautiful and my *husband* loves it, Emma shot back.
James is too soft. And you take advantage!
The door swung open. James stood there, his expression dark.
Whats going on?
Nothing, darling, Margaret said, her tone shifting instantly. Just discussing fashion.
I heard enough. James stepped beside Emma. Emma is my wife. And I wont let anyonenot even youspeak to her like that.
This is *my* home! Margaret snapped.
No. Its *ours*. And we all deserve to feel welcome here.
Silence fell, broken only by Dorothys laughter from the other room.
I never meant to cause a scene, Emma said quietly. If Id known this dress would upset you so much, Id have worn something else.
Margaret looked between them, anger warring with something elsereluctant realisation, perhaps.
Mum, James said gently. Emmas been slaving away all day to make this perfect for you. She respects you. But you have to respect *her* choices too.
Margarets shoulders sagged. After a long pause, she met Emmas eyes.
Perhaps I overreacted, she admitted stiffly. But in my day
Times change, Margaret, Emma said softly. But kindness never goes out of style. I dont want to fight. I want us to be family.
The kettle boiled again, reminding them of the waiting guests.
Lets go back, James said.
Margaret hesitated, then stopped Emma before she could lift the tray.
Wait. I I owe you an apology, she said, the words clearly foreign on her tongue. You *do* look beautiful in that dress. And Dorothys rightyou should wear what makes you happy.
Emma blinked. In two years, Margaret had never admitted fault.
Thank you, she said simply.
When they returned, the guests were none the wiserexcept Dorothy, who eyed them knowingly but held her tongue.
The evening ended warmly. Margaret even asked where Emma bought the dressfor my friend Beatrice, shed love something just as lively.
Later, as the guests departed, Dorothy lingered.
Margaret, she said quietly, Ive known you fifty years. And Ive *never* heard you apologise. Until tonight.
Margaret feigned confusion.
Oh, stop, Dorothy chuckled. I saw your faces when you came back. Something changed. And its good. Means theres hope for you yet.
You always were too sharp, Margaret muttered.
No, just observant. Youve got a wonderful daughter-in-law. And your sons happy. Isnt that what matters?
After Dorothy left, Margaret returned to find Emma and James clearing the table.
Leave it, she said. Well finish tomorrow. Tonight was lovelylets not ruin it with chores.
James raised an eyebrow. But you always say dishes mustnt sit overnight.
Rules are meant to be broken sometimes. Margaret smileda rare, genuine one. Isnt that right, Emma?
Emma smiled back. Something had shifted between themsomething important.
Especially if it makes us happier, she agreed.
James pulled them both into an embracethree generations, three perspectives, but one family. With all its clashes, misunderstandings, and perhaps, a new beginning.
You know, Margaret mused, I think I saw a dress just like yours in blue. Do you think it would suit me?
And for the first time in a long while, they laughed togethertruly, freely, without resentment.
**Life is too short for needless battles. Sometimes, the boldest act is not defiance, but understandingand the truest strength lies in knowing when to let go. Life is too short for needless battles. Sometimes, the boldest act is not defiance, but understandingand the truest strength lies in knowing when to let go.
