«Dont you dare contradict your husbandyour place is in the kitchen,» my mother-in-law scolded me in front of the guests.
«No, Mum, its not just a simple sponge. Theres almond flour and orange zest for flavour,» Lina replied gently, watching as her mother-in-law poked at the dessert with a sceptical fork. «And the cream is made with mascarponethats why its so delicate.»
«Delicate, yes, but not sweet enough,» snapped Margaret, pushing her plate away. «In my day, cakes were properrich, sweet, and filling. This? Its just air. You cant feed guests with this. Andrew, say something to her.»
Andrew, Linas husband, coughed awkwardly into his fist. He sat at the head of the table in their spacious new flatbought with no small help from his parentsand avoided meeting his wifes eyes.
«Mum, come on, its lovely. Lina put in a lot of effort,» he muttered, shoving a large bite into his mouth. «Honestly, darling, its delicious.»
Lina felt something tighten inside her. *»Put in a lot of effort.»* As if she were a child bringing home a school project, not a dessert shed spent weeks perfecting. Before marriage, her baking had been her pride. Friends ordered birthday cakes from her, and shed dreamed of opening her own little patisserie one day. When they were dating, Andrew had raved about her talent, calling her «magic» and «brilliant.» Hed devoured whole pies in one sitting, swearing hed never tasted anything better.
But after the wedding, everything changed. They moved closer to his parents, and Margaret became a frequent visitor. At first, her visits were tentativehomemade jams, gentle advice on housekeeping. Lina, whod grown up without a mother, had even welcomed it. But soon, advice became orders, and involvement became control.
Margaret barged into their bedroom unannounced, inspected the bathroom for cleanliness, rearranged the kitchen her way. She lectured Lina on ironing Andrews shirts («inside out, so the collars dont shine»), making proper roast dinners («only buy meat from the butcher, not those supermarkets»), and raising their five-year-old son, Jamie («dont let him cryyoull turn him soft»).
Lina endured it. She loved Andrew and wanted peace. She told herself Margaret was just old-fashioned, that she meant well. And when she complained, Andrew would just sigh, «Please, Lin. You know Mumshes set in her ways. She doesnt mean harm.»
Tonights dinner was another test. Margaret had arrived unannounced, as usual, catching Lina mid-bake. All evening, shed watched like a stern examiner, and now, she delivered her verdict in front of the whole family.
«Im not saying its inedible,» Margaret relented, seeing Linas face fall. «Just add more sugar next time. Men need something hearty. Right, son?»
Andrew nodded, finishing his slice. Lina said nothing, clearing the table with a lump in her throat. The hurt wasnt just from Margarets wordsit was from Andrews silence. He hadnt even tried to defend her. Hed just agreed to avoid a row.
When Margaret finally left, Andrew hugged Lina from behind.
«Lin, dont be like this. Mums just stuck in her ways. The cake was fantastic, really.»
«Then why didnt you say so?» she asked quietly, not turning.
«Whats the point? She wont listen. Easier to agree and keep the peace.»
«Peace for everyone but me,» she said bitterly. «Andrew, I feel like a servant herelike my thoughts dont matter.»
«Dont start,» he sighed, letting go. «No one thinks that. But Mums the head of the familyshe deserves respect. She knows best.»
Lina turned to him. His eyes held no support, no understandingjust weariness, a desire to end the conversation.
«And me? Do I know nothing? Are my feelings unimportant?»
«Lina, not now. Im tired. Just add more sugar next time, and itll be fine.»
He left. Lina stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded by expensive appliances Margaret had chosen. She felt like a stranger in her own home. Her dream of a patisserie now seemed childish. What use was a shop when she couldnt even bake a cake to please her own family?
Weeks passed. Lina played the perfect wife and daughter-in-law. She rose early, made breakfast for Andrew and Jamie, cleaned, cookedextra sugar in the pies, extra butter in the roast. She ironed shirts inside out, bought meat only from the butcher. She stayed silent when Margaret lectured.
Andrew was happy. The house was quiet. He praised her meals, kissed her goodbye, and never noticed the dullness in her eyes.
Then came her father-in-laws sixtieth. A big party at their countryside house. Family, friends, business associatesall invited. Margaret took charge, leaving Lina with the kitchen.
«Heres the menu,» Margaret said, handing her a long list. «Everything must be perfectimportant guests are coming. None of your airy desserts. Stick to classicsVictoria sponge, treacle tart. Terrines, salads, roast beef Start early. Its a lot.»
Lina took the list. Dozens of dishes. She knew she couldnt manage alone.
«Margaret, maybe we could order some things? Im not sure I can do it all well.»
«*Order?*» Margarets eyes flashed. «Weve *always* cooked at home. Guests must see what a proper wife you arewhat a good match Andrew made. Its about family pride. Dont even think otherwise. If you cant handle it, Ill call my sister. But prove yourself.»
The last words were a challenge. And Lina accepted. She wanted to proveto Margaret, to Andrew, to *herself*that she wasnt just «trying.» That she could be the best.
The week before the party, she barely slept. Days with Jamie, nights in the kitchenbaking layers, simmering sauces, marinating meat. Every dish held her frustration, her hope. The kitchen became her battlefield.
Andrew, seeing her exhaustion, tried to helpclumsily.
«Lin, maybe rest? You look pale.»
«No time. Your father deserves the best.»
On the day, the house buzzed. Guests arrived, toasting, praising. Lina darted between kitchen and dining room, serving, refilling glasses. She felt like a taut wire.
The table groaned with food. Guestsespecially the menraved.
«Margaret, Edward, what a treasure your daughter-in-law is!» boomed one of Edwards associates, devouring the roast beef. «A wife like thisyou should cherish her!»
Margaret glowed, taking credit.
«She learns,» she said smugly.
Lina heard it all, and it stung. No one saw her sleepless nights. Her efforts were Margarets triumph.
Later, as drinks flowed, talk turned to businesssome new investment in agritourism. Lina, serving tea, listened. It interested her. Before marriage, shed read widelyeconomics, news.
«Risky,» Edward said. «Investing in the countrysidewhod go there?»
«I think its a good idea,» Lina said, placing down a fruit bowl. The room turned. «People want peaceful breaks nowgood food, fresh air. If you offer qualityworkshops, farm experiencesit could work. I read about a successful project in Yorkshire.»
She spoke eagerly, forgetting her «place.» For a moment, she was herself againbright, informed.
Silence. The men stared; the women watched. Andrew flushed, shifting uncomfortably. His eyes begged her to stop.
But Lina didnt see. She watched Edward, waiting. Then came Margarets icy voice.
«Dont you *dare* contradict your elders!» she snapped, loud enough for all to hear. «Your place is in the kitchen, not in mens business. Go check the cake.»
The words slapped. Humiliation burned her cheeks. She looked down, unable to bear the stares. Someone coughed awkwardly. Edward muttered at Margaret. But it was done.
She turned and left.
In the kitchen, she leaned against the cold wall, eyes shut. Tears choked her, but she didnt cry. She just breathed.
Andrew found her minutes later.
«Lina, *why*?» he hissed. «You *know* Mum! Why embarrass me?»
She opened her eyes. For the first time, she saw him clearlynot her husband, but a boy afraid of his mother.
«*You?*» she asked softly, steel in her voice. «Your mother humiliated me in front of everyoneand you sat there. *Thats* normal?»
«Stop it! Shes *right*business isnt womens work! Was it so hard to just stay quiet?»
She said nothing. Her gaze was colder than the wall behind her.
«Go back to your guests, Andrew. Dont embarrass yourself further.»
He hesitated, then left.
Alone, Lina looked out at the dark garden. Beyond it was a life where she could be herself. That night, she decided.
The party ended late. Lina cleaned in silence. Margaret strutted, victorious.
Back in the flat, Lina went to Jamies room. He slept, arms spread. She kissed his warm cheek. «Sorry, love. Mummy wont be weak anymore.»
The next day, while Andrew was at work and Jamie at nursery, she pulled down a dusty boxher old recipe notebooks, cookbooks, her pastry diploma, earned before Andrew. She dusted it off and hung it on the kitchen wall, replacing Margarets cross-stitch.
Then she opened her laptop and created a page*»Sweet Stories by Lina.»* She photographed a slice of that «airy» almond cake Margaret had scorned. The picture was beautiful. She wrote a post about her love for bakinghow every dessert told a story. And she clicked *Publish.*
That evening, Andrew returned in a foul mood, still cross about last night. He ate silently, not noticing the diploma or the fire in Linas eyes.
«Im going to Mums tomorrow,» he grumbled. «She needs help with the greenhouse.»
«Fine,» Lina said calmly.
For a week, she lived two livesdutiful wife by day, entrepreneur by night. She baked what *she* lovedlight mousses, delicate pastries. Soon, her first order camea birthday cake. She worked through the night, delivering a masterpiece crowned with fresh berries.
The clients reaction»Mum cried, its *perfect*!»filled her with pride. The payment wasnt much, but it was *hers.* Money for freedom.
Then came Margarets call.
«Lina, whats this *nonsense*?» she shrieked. «My sister saw you delivering a *cake*! Is this how you neglect your family?»
Lina breathed deep.
«Im working, Margaret.»
«*Working?* Your job is *home*! Is Andrew not good enough? You shame us!»
«Im doing what I love,» Lina said firmly.
Margaret spluttered. «Im calling Andrewhell put a stop to this!»
«Call him,» Lina said, and hung up.
Andrew stormed in half an hour later.
«Whats this *madness*? Mums hysterical!»
Silently, Lina handed him her phonethe glowing review: *»Youre an artist!»*
He read it, then looked at her. Her eyes held no fearjust certainty.
«I wont stop, Andrew. My place isnt just your kitchen. Its where Im happy. If you dont like that» She paused, letting it sink in. «…thats your choice. Ive made mine.»
She turned to the window, where a new day*her* daywas beginning. For the first time in years, she breathed freely. She didnt know what would happen to their marriage. But she knew one thingno one would ever tell her where she belonged again.
