**Saturday, 12th October**
The day began softly, with a steady rain tapping against the windowpanes. The flat carried the comforting scent of freshly brewed tea and that peaceful Saturday stillnessthe kind that comes after a long week. Emily sank into the battered armchairthe one theyd inherited from her grandmother, its cushions sagging from years of useand cradled her favourite mug. The warmth seeped into her fingers, a small, quiet joy.
*This is happiness*, she thought, inhaling the rich aroma. No interruptions, no talk of work, of money, of how it was «about time» they sorted this or that. Just her, a steaming cup, and the new series on her tablet.
These quiet moments had become her refuge lately. James, her husband, had been out of work for three months, and their home had turned into a battlefield of unspoken frustrations. He spent his days glued to the computerendless rounds of video games, football highlights, and the occasional half-hearted job search, though the screen rarely showed anything resembling a job site.
«Love!» James voice shattered the calm like a firework. «You wont believe itMums picked her anniversary gift!»
He barged in, grinning like a schoolboy whod just aced an exam. Emily reluctantly tore her eyes from the screen. Something in his tone set off alarms.
«A crocodile-skin handbag!» James ploughed on, oblivious. «Shes wanted one for ages!»
Emily set her mug down carefully and narrowed her gaze.
«A crocodile-skin handbag? Did she choose that herself, or was it suggested? And did anyone consider what animal rights activists might say?»
The sarcasm sailed right past him.
«Shes my mother! She deserves it!»
«Deserves it?» Emily felt something tighten in her chest. «What exactly has she done to earn that? Fineshe raised *you*. But Ive got my own parents. And how much does this gift cost?»
James coughed, suddenly sheepish.
«Oh, not much, really About five of your monthly wages.»
Emilys stomach dropped.
«Five of *my* wages?» she repeated, her voice flat.
«Well, its genuine Nile crocodile, not some cheap knock-off,» he said, as if that explained everything.
«And why are you telling *me*? Im not the one buying it.»
James shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes.
«Well I put it on credit.»
«On credit?» Her tone turned dangerously calm.
«Yeah. Cheers to my sister Lucyshe sorted it. Works at the bank, got it all processed in no time»
«And whose name is it in?»
A horrible realisation crept over her.
«Well, yours, obviously. Who else? I just used your details»
Emily stood without a word and moved towards him. She wanted to throttle him. Or at least hurl something heavy in his direction.
«So, James, darlingyouve been unemployed for three months, decided to spoil your mum, and *Im* the one footing the bill?»
James took a step back, sensing the storm brewing.
«Emily, it just made sense Youre the only one earning»
«I *am* earning! While you sit there like a teenager on summer break, playing games instead of providing for your family, and now youve lumped me with *your* debt?»
«Dont overreact! Its just a loanno big deal»
At that moment, his mother, Margaret, made her usual grand entrance. She always dropped by to «see the kids,» though really, it was to deliver a lecture or a list of complaints.
«Whats all this noise?» she demanded, sweeping in like she owned the place.
«Nothing, Mum. Emilys just a bit upset about the loan,» James muttered.
«Upset? Why?» Margaret perched on a chair, arms folded. «Family helps family. Its your duty to one another.»
«Meaning?» Emily said icily. «My duty is to fund extravagant gifts while your son does nothing?»
«Whats the problem? Youve got a good salary,» Margaret sniffed.
«I see. And James? Whats his contribution?»
«James is my sonand your *husband*. You should be supporting him.»
«Husband?» Emily let out a sharp laugh. «Is that what you call a man who takes out loans in his wifes name because he cant be bothered to work? Who leeches off me like some kind of parasite?»
«Emily!» James spluttered. «Thats out of order! Were *family*!»
«Fine,» Emily said tightly. «Ill sort it myself tomorrow. And dont worryeverything will be just *fine*.»
She smiled faintly, a glint in her eye that made James uneasy. Truth was, she already had a plan.
«Thats the spirit, dear!» Margaret said approvingly.
The next day, Emily juggled work with a few discreet calls. By evening, shed arranged a meeting with someone from the classifieds.
When she got home, she greeted James with a sugary smile.
«Darling! Ive got news!»
«Oh?» He looked up from the sofa, unsuspecting.
«Ive paid off that loan for the crocodile bag.»
«Seriously? Youre brilliant!» He nearly leaped up. «Howd you manage it? Whered the money come from?»
«Simple. I sold your car.»
James went rigid, as if struck by lightning.
«Youwhat? *My* car?»
«Yep. Quick sale, got just enough to clear that ridiculous debt.»
«Have you lost your mind?! How am I supposed to get around?»
Emily smiled sweetly.
«Ride the crocodile bag like a pony. I read some are made from leather so supple, they practically turn into saddles. Your mums isnt one of those, is it?»
She bit back a laugh as James turned puce.
«You cant be serious! That was *my* car! And you sold it for peanuts? Thatsthats madness!»
«Now youre car-free, Im debt-free, and your mothers got her prize. Fairs fair, dont you think?»
Margaret stormed in, drawn by the shouting.
«What on earths going on now?»
«Imagine, MumEmilys sold my car!» James wailed.
«And?» Emily shrugged. «A loans a family matter, isnt it? You said so yourself.»
«That was different! You had no rightits *his* car!» Margaret snapped. «Whats he supposed to do without one?»
«Did *you* ask me before taking out a loan in my name? Before spending my money?» Emily tilted her chin up. «Now were even.»
«This is preposterous! Who does she think she is?» Margaret hissed, glaring as if Emily had committed treason.
«Preposterous is the pair of you treating me like a personal ATM,» Emily shot back.
James tried to mediate.
«Emily, think about this! Were a *family*we stick together!»
«A family? Then heres my proposal: since youre the dead weight, pack your things and move in with your mother. Let *her* feed you and pay your bills. Ill finally live for myself.»
Emily settled onto the sofa and picked up her tablet, signalling the discussion was over. After a beat, she added, sweetly:
«Oh, and Margaretgive that handbag a good stroke. I hear the leathers *very* sensitive.»
Two days later, worn down by the tension, James moved in with his mother. Margaret fumed, but Emily couldnt care less.
For the first time in months, she breathed easy. And she knew one thing for certaintheyd finally learned their lesson.
Outside, the rain still fell, but now, that Saturday silence was hers alone.
**Lesson learned:** Never sign anything without reading it firstand never let someone else spend your hard-earned money. Some people will take a mile if you give an inch.
