Surprise, lovewere moving in with my mother, my husband announced when I returned from the hospital.
Have you lost your mind? What do you mean *Paul*? We agreed on *Michael*! Mike!
Eleanor stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and hurt. The thin hospital gown hung loose on her weakened frame, and her voice, still frail from childbirth, carried a sharp edge. Edward stood by the window, clutching a plastic cup of cold tea, guiltily avoiding her gaze.
Ellie, please understand Mum insisted. In honour of my father. It means everything to her. He was her whole world.
And what about *me*? What about *us*? We spent nine months picking a name! Reading meanings, arguing, laughingfinally choosing one we *both* loved! What does your mother have to do with this?
Shell be heartbroken if we dont name him Paul. She says its a mark of respect.
Respect is *remembering* someone, not branding a child with a name *he* has to live with! Eleanor felt tears of helplessness welling up. We *agreed*, Edward! You *promised* me!
I know, Im sorry. But I couldnt refuse her, he finally turned, his eyes pleading yet stubborn, making her stomach twist. Lets not fight now. You need rest. Were being discharged tomorrowtheyre expecting us at home.
He moved to embrace her, but she stiffened. The word *home* rang hollow. Just yesterday, she had dreamed of stepping into their cosy little flat, of laying her sleeping son in the crib theyd lovingly assembled. Now, the word stung. She blamed exhaustion, hormonesbut the bitterness lingered.
The next day, the bustle of leaving the hospital pushed her worries aside. Flowers, awkward congratulations from nurses, a blue-ribboned envelope that felt weightless yet heavier than anything. Edward was attentiveholding her elbow, carrying bags, opening the car door. Eleanor cradled their son, breathing in his milky sweetness. *This* was happiness. Their quarrel was nonsense. They were a family now.
But as they neared their street, Edward hesitated. Instead of turning into their driveway, he drove past.
Where are you going? We missed it, Eleanor frowned, peering out.
Were not going to ours, he said brightly, avoiding her eyes. Surprise!
Her heart skipped. She knew this street, this peeling-paint entrance. His mother, Margaret, lived here.
What surprise? Edward, whats happening?
He parked and cut the engine. Silence settled, broken only by the babys quiet breaths.
Surprise, lovewere moving in with Mum, Edward said with a forced smile, as if announcing a lottery win. I thought youd struggle alone with the baby. Mum will help. And money will be tight while youre on leave.
Eleanor sat frozen, struggling to breathe. This wasnt her husbandthis was a stranger who had dismantled her world without a word.
You decided this without me? she whispered, fingers turning icy. You spring this on me *now*, with a newborn in my arms?
Ellie, its for *our* good! His voice turned defensive. Mums given us the big room. You shouldve seen how hard she worked!
The front door swung openMargaret stood beaming, rushing to the car.
Youre here, my darlings! Edward, grab the bagsEllie, bring my grandson. Oh, isnt he precious? Our little Paul!
*Our little Paul.* The words struck like a slap. The name debate, the moveit was all planned. She was just an extra in their script.
Inside, the flat smelled of mothballs and something sour. The big room was cramped with heavy furniture, their crib looking out of place.
Make yourselves at home! Margaret fussed. Ive cleared two shelves for you. Edward will fetch the rest tomorrow.
What *rest*? Eleanor asked dully.
From your flat! Were letting it outevery penny counts! Margaret chirped, as if it were obvious.
Eleanor looked at Edward. He shifted guiltily, eyes begging: *Dont start now.*
She didnt. She had no strength. Only betrayal.
Days blurred together. Margaret wasnt crueljust *overbearing*. She woke early to cook Edward proper porridge (because Eleanors was too watery). She barged in at dawn (Time to feed the baby!), rewashed nappies (Soaps *chemicals*!). Every attempt at independence was met with I know best.
One evening, as Eleanor bathed Michael in chamomile water, Margaret marched in.
Not that *herbal* nonsense! *Potassium permanganate*stops infection! *Thats* how its always been done!
The doctor *never*!
Doctors! Margaret scoffed, dumping crystals into the water, turning it purple.
Eleanor snatched Michael out. Enough.
That night, she met Edward at the door, bag packed, baby in arms.
Were leaving.
*What*? Its *night*!
Anywhere. My mums. A rented flat. *Not here*.
Margaret stormed in. Ungrateful girl! After all Ive done
Thank you, Eleanor cut in, voice steady. But well manage alone.
Margaret shrieked at Edward. Youre *choosing her over me*?
Torn, he hesitatedthen exhaled. Mum were going.
Margarets face twisted. *Traitor!* Get *out*!
In the car, Eleanor cried silentlynot from grief, but freedom.
At her mothers, warmth returned. No advice, no criticism. Michael slept soundly.
Weeks later, Edward sat beside her.
Im sorry. I was a fool. I thought I was helping but I nearly ruined us.
She touched his hand.
A month later, they reclaimed their flatpaying tenants to leave, draining savings. But when Eleanor stepped inside, breathed in *home*, she knew it was worth it.
She tucked Michael in, whispering, Sleep, love. Everythings alright now.
Margaret never forgave them. Edward visited briefly; she refused to see her grandson. It hurtbut Eleanor had fought for her family.
Life wasnt perfect. Money was tight; they argued. But it was *theirs*a fragile, cherished fortress, built together, brick by brick.
