«Your mother doesnt live here anymore,» said her husband as he met her at the door, her suitcase still in hand.
Emily froze on the threshold, her fingers tightening around the handle. A draught swept through the hallwaythe front door stood wide open, and the light was on in the room where her mother usually slept.
«What do you mean, doesnt live here?» Emilys voice trembled. «I was only gone three days for work. Where could she have gone?»
James shrugged and stepped aside, letting his wife pass into the flat. His calmness was unusual, almost indifferent.
«I took her to Aunt Margarets. She agreed to look after your mother for a while.»
«A while?» Emily kicked off her heels. «What does that mean? And why did you decide this without me?»
«Because I cant do it anymore.» James met her gaze squarely. «I cant, and I wont. Three years weve lived like this, Em. Three years. Ive had enough.»
Emily strode into the kitchen, dropping her bag onto the table. Her hands shookfrom exhaustion, from shock, from the anger simmering inside. She opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and took several long swallows.
«Let me get this straight. You sent my mother away while I was gone?» she asked, forcing her voice steady.
«I didnt send her away. I moved her. With all her things, with all due respect.» He leaned against the doorframe. «And you know it was the right decision. Shes your mother, but our marriage comes first.»
Emily shook her head. How quickly everything could change. That morning, shed left London certain everything at home would be the same. Now shed returned to a different life.
«I need to speak to Mum,» she said, reaching for her phone.
«Its too late,» James countered. «Nearly eleven. Call her tomorrow.»
«Ill go to Aunt Margarets now.»
«No, you wont.» His voice was firm. «Youve just got off the trainyoure exhausted. Well sleep, and in the morning, well talk.»
Emily dialled her mothers number, but the phone was switched off. She tried Aunt Margaretthe line rang, but no one answered. James watched in silence as she gave up and tossed her mobile onto the table.
«What did you say to her?» Emily demanded.
«The truth. That we cant live like this anymore. That our marriage is falling apart. That one of us had to leaveeither her or me.»
«You gave her an ultimatum?»
«And shouldnt I have?» James ran a hand through his hair. «Em, weve talked about this a hundred times. I cant keep living like this. I want us to be a family againjust you and me. No more arguments, no more tension.»
Emily sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands. Yes, theyd talked about it. But she hadnt thought he would actually go through with it. Shed hoped, foolishly, that things would settle on their own.
«How did she take it?» she asked without looking up.
«Better than I expected. Said shed seen it coming. Packed her things in an hour. Didnt even cry.»
Emily gave a bitter laugh. That sounded like her motherproud, unyielding, a woman who had always weathered storms alone. She would never make a scene, even if her heart was breaking.
«I need to see her,» Emily said.
«In the morning.» Jamess tone brooked no argument. «Right nowshower and bed. You can barely stand.»
Emily relented. Under the hot spray, she tried to make sense of it all. Her mother had lived with them since her stroke. The doctors had insisted she needed constant careleaving her alone wasnt an option. So Emily had brought her home without hesitation, because it was the right thing to do.
At first, James hadnt objected. A daughters duty was sacred. But as the months passed, Margarets recovery was slow. She grew irritable, critical. She could sit in silence for hours, then lash out with accusationsespecially at James.
«Not much of a man, is he?» shed mutter when he left for work. «Cant even fix a shelf, cant earn a proper wage. Youll end up destitute with him.»
Emily defended her husband as best she could. She reminded her mother that times had changedJames was a software engineer; he worked with his mind, not his hands. They had moneya flat, a car, holidays every year.
«In my fathers day, men knew how to do things properly,» her mother would snap.
James tried not to react, but the tension grew. He stayed late at work, avoided dinners, retreated to the bedroom. Conversations between him and Emily dwindledno more laughter, no more intimacy. Their marriage had become little more than sharing a roof.
And now this. While she was away, he had acted. Her mother was gone, sent to a distant relative. The choice had been made without her.
Emily slipped into bed. James pretended to read, but the tension between them was thick.
«I understand,» she said quietly. «But you shouldnt have done it behind my back.»
«I waited three years for you to decide,» he replied, setting the book aside. «Three years of suggesting alternativesa carer, a good care home. We can afford it. But you wouldnt listen.»
«Because shes my mother,» Emily shot back. «She raised me alone, working two jobs so I could go to a good school, have piano lessons. I cant just hand her off to strangers!»
«And what about me?» James asked softly. «Where do I fit in? Am I a stranger too?»
Emily didnt answer. The room was silent except for the ticking clock. James switched off the lamp and turned away. Emily stared at the ceiling, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Morning came with a call from Aunt Margaret. Everything was fine, she said. Margaret was settling in, no need to worry.
«Dont come today,» Aunt Margaret insisted. «Your mother says she needs time to adjust.»
Emily didnt believe it. Her mother had always wanted her closeevery day, every hour. Even a trip to the shops prompted a call: «Where are you? When will you be back?»
«Im coming anyway,» Emily said and hung up.
James drank his coffee in silence, pretending not to hear. The kitchen was strangely quietno clattering dishes, no complaints about weak tea or dusty floors.
«I took the day off,» James said, rising. «We need to talk. Properly.»
Emily nodded. They did.
«First, Ill see Mum,» she said. «Then well talk.»
Aunt Margaret lived across London in an ageing walk-up. As Emily climbed the worn stairs, she thought of her mother navigating them with her caneslow and unsteady since the stroke.
The door opened, revealing Aunt Margaretplump, with unnaturally red hair. A cousin they barely saw.
«Come in,» she said, stepping aside. «Your mothers in the kitchen.»
Emily followed the narrow hall. The flat was small, cramped. The kitchen barely fit a table and two chairs.
Her mother sat by the window, spine rigid. She didnt turn as Emily entered.
«Mum,» Emily whispered.
«You came, then,» Margaret said. «I thought your husband might stop you.»
«How could you think that? Of course I came.»
«And whats changed?» Margaret finally looked at her. Her face was calm, but her eyes shone too brightly. «Nothing. Your husbands shown whos in charge. I always said he was weak. I was wrong. Hes a tyrant.»
Emily sighed. Always extremesno middle ground.
«Hes not a tyrant, Mum. Hes just tired. We all are.»
«Tired?» Margaret scoffed. «And I wasnt? Being ill, depending on others, hearing how Im in the way? Did you think I didnt see how he looked at me?»
«Mum»
«Dont pity me.» Margaret cut her off. «I didnt raise you for that. Youve chosen your husbandstay with him. Ill manage.»
Aunt Margaret tactfully left them alone. Emily studied her motherproud, unbending, even now.
«I could rent you a flat near us,» she offered. «Or hire a carer.»
«No need.» Margarets voice was firm. «Ill stay here a while. Then Ill go home.»
«But the doctors said»
«Doctors say many things.» Margaret pressed her lips together. «Ill exercise, watch my health. Learn to live again.»
Her tone was steady, but Emily saw her hands tremble. For the first time, her mother was truly afraidof being alone.
«Ill visit every day,» Emily promised.
«Dont.» Margaret shook her head. «You have your life. Come on weekendsthats enough.»
Emily knew that tone. Once her mother decided, there was no changing her mind. Pride had always been her greatest flawand her greatest strength.
They talked for another hourabout the flat, what needed buying. Margaret refused nearly everything.
As Emily turned to leave, her mother suddenly caught her arm.
«I only ever wanted you to be happy,» she said softly, the hardness gone from her voice. «Maybe your James is right. Maybe youll be better without me.»
Emily hugged her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and rosehome, safety.
«I love you, Mum,» she whispered. «Ill always be here.»
Margaret nodded, pulling away. The walls went back up.
«Go,» she said. «Dont keep your husband waiting.»
Outside, Emily stood for a moment, breathing deeply. Guilt twisted inside her. Rationally, she knew James was rightthis was better for all of them. But her heart ached at the thought of her mother feeling abandoned.
At home, James had laid out lunchher favourite shepherds pie. They sat facing each other, as they used to.
«How is she?» he asked.
«Stubborn,» Emily said. «Pretending shes fine.»
James nodded. He knew his mother-in-law well.
«Em, I know youre angry,» he said. «But I couldnt see another way. We were destroying each otherall three of us. Your mother was miserable with me. I was miserable with her. And you were torn between us.»
Emily stayed silent. There was truth in his words, harsh as it was.
«I have a compromise,» James said. «We rent her a good flatsomewhere bright, modern, with a lift. We hire a carercooking, cleaning, shopping. Get her an alarm pendant in case she falls. You visit as often as you like. But she lives separately.»
«And if she gets worse?»
«Then we reconsider. Maybe a care home with medical staff. But only if necessary.»
Emily studied himtired but resolute. Hed endured three years of thisfor her. Lived with a woman who despised him, yet hadnt walked away.
«I agree,» she said quietly. «But no more decisions behind my back.»
James smiledthe first real one in years.
«Never.»
They ate in silence, but it was a comfortable one. Something between them had shifted, realigned.
Later, Emily called her motherexpecting resistance. But, to her surprise, Margaret agreed almost at once.
«I choose the flat,» she insisted. «And the carer. No strangers forced on me.»
«Of course, Mum,» Emily said, smiling into the phone.
That evening, she and James curled up on the sofa, watching an old film theyd once loved. He pulled her close; she rested her head on his chest. Simple. Familiar. Long forgotten.
«You know,» James said suddenly, «I thought Id lose you. That youd choose her over me.»
Emily lifted her head, meeting his gaze.
«And I thought one day Id come home, and youd be gone,» she admitted. «That youd had enough.»
«Never,» he murmured, pulling her tighter. «Never.»
They kissed like they had years agodesperate, hungry. And then talkedreally talkedfor hours, spilling every hurt, every fear.
Late that night, Emily remembered Jamess words from the night before: «Your mother doesnt live here anymore.» At the time, theyd felt like an ending.
Now, she wonderedwas it a beginning? A chance for all of them to live differently. To love without suffocating. To care without controlling.
She fell asleep against James, and for the first time in years, her dreams were peacefuljust warm sand, a calm sea, and the sun, rising, not setting.
