Sarah freezes by the fridge, a bag of groceries in her hands. Did you buy that sausage again? I told you it tastes awful! her motherinlaw, Margaret, had said. James doesnt even greet her when he comes home from work.
Good evening, love, Sarah tries to stay calm. I got the discounted one. Were a bit short on money right now.
Short? James raises his voice. Were barely making ends meet! And youre splurging on nonsense!
What nonsense? Sarah feels a sting of hurt. I only buy what we need!
James waves his hand and retreats to the bedroom. Sarah stands at the kitchen sink, clutching the bag handles. Theyve been married eight years, and for the past three months the fights have become constantshe cooks wrong, puts things in the wrong place, spends too much. He never used to be so picky.
She starts arranging the food on the shelves, hands trembling. She wants to cry but forces herself not to. Dinner must be ready; their nineyearold daughter Emily will be home from school any minute, and she cant let her see her mother in tears.
The evening passes in a silent dinner. Emily, sharp for her age, senses the tension and tries not to draw attention. She quickly finishes her soup and asks to do her homework.
Go on, love, Sarah says, kissing Emily on the top of her head.
When Emily leaves, James finally speaks.
I need to visit my mum this weekend. She isnt feeling well.
Okay, Sarah nods. Going together?
No, Ill go alone. Stay home; theres a lot to do.
Sarah wants to argue but stays quiet. In recent months she has learned to keep her mouth shut. They used to discuss, argue, make up. Now a wall seems to have risen between them.
On Saturday James leaves early. Sarah tackles the housework: laundry, cleaning, making lunch. The routine that once felt easy now feels heavy. Anxiety sits in her chest, refusing to leave.
Emily plays in her room while Sarah tidies the bedroom. She opens a window for fresh air and hears voices. Neighbours, she thinks, on the balcony. Shes about to shut it when she recognises Jamess voice.
James stands on the balcony of his mothers flat. Margaret lives in the neighboring block on the same floor; Sarah once liked the proximity, thinking it convenient, but now shes uneasy.
Mum, I cant do this any longer, James says, his tone whiny, unlike his usual calm at home.
Son, you must be firm, Margaret replies. A wife should know her place.
Sarah freezes, unable to look away from the window.
She doesnt understand a word, James continues. I tell her one thing, she does another.
Thats exactly why, Margaret interjects. Youre too soft with her. You need to keep her in check. Ive always said that.
But I cant keep shouting at her, James protests.
Then be stricter. Let her feel youre the head of the house. Otherwise shell go soft.
A shiver runs down Sarahs spine. Soft? She works from dawn until night, cooking, cleaning, raising Emily, and parttime at the local library to supplement their income. Soft?
Im trying, Mum, James sighs. But sometimes I feel sorry for her.
Pity wont help, Margaret snaps. Youre the man, the familys head. If youre gentle shell cling to you. All women are like that.
Not all
All! I raised you right; youre kind and caring. But kindness is a weakness at home. Keep your wife under control.
Sarah steps back from the window, her legs wobbling. She sits on the bed, the noise in her head like a vacuum cleaner.
It isnt James who changed suddenly; its Margarets influence. Four months ago Margaret stayed with them for a week, and after that James became a different person.
She recalls the oddities of recent monthsJames visiting his mum more often, becoming colder and more demanding after each stay, nitpicking things that never mattered before.
Emily peeks into the doorway, eyes wide. Mum, are you crying?
Tears slip down Sarahs cheeks before she can stop them. She wipes them quickly.
No, love, just my eyes are itchy. Probably dust.
Really?
Really, Sarah forces a smile. Go on, play. Ill have lunch ready soon.
When Emily leaves, Sarah sits on the bed again. What now? Confront James? Admit she overheard? That would spark a fight; hed accuse her of spying and pull away further. Stay silent? She cant live knowing his mother is steering him against her.
The rest of the day drifts like a fog. She cooks lunch mechanically, tasting nothing. She talks to Emily, hearing none of her words.
James returns in the evening, drops his keys on the hall table.
Is dinner ready? he asks instead of greeting.
Almost, Ill heat it up, she replies, moving a pan onto the stove. Her hands move on autopilot while Margarets words echo: keep her in check, shes gone soft, pity wont help.
Something wrong? James asks as he sits down. Youre not yourself.
Everythings fine, she says, serving him. Just tired.
Here we go again, he mutters. Always tired. What do you do all day, just sit at home?
I dont sit at home, Sarah says quietly. I work at the library.
Library, half a job, bringing in pennies.
Thats something. You never told me I couldnt work.
I didnt. I just see no point. Better if you kept the house in order.
Sarah clenches her teeth, reminding herself not to fall into a shouting match, not in front of Emily.
Later, after Emily is asleep, Sarah sits in the kitchen with a cooling cup of tea while James watches television. They are strangers sharing a flat.
She thinks back to when they first met at twentythree. Sarah was a shop assistant at a bookshop; James came in looking for a gift for a friend. They chatted, went to a café, started dating, laughing, strolling. He was attentive, gentle, caring.
Even then, Margaret had made it clear she didnt like her daughterinlaw, saying James deserved better, that Sarahs background was too modest, that she lacked education. James ignored his mother then, insisting he loved Sarah.
They married despite Margarets disapproval, had Emily, endured early hardships but were happy, handling sleepless nights, child illnesses, tight finances. James was a solid rock.
Then Margaret began visiting more often, calling James several times a day, inviting him over, and he started going constantly.
The next day Sarah decides to speak with her motherinlaw, not to argue but to discuss. She knocks on Margarets door. Margaret opens, surprised.
Ah, youre here. Come in, she says, stepping aside.
The flat is furnished with older, tasteful pieces, lace napkins everywhere, photos of James on the walls, none of Sarah or Emily.
Tea? Margaret offers.
No, thanks. Im just stopping by.
They sit at the table. Margaret watches Sarah intently.
I wanted to talk about us, Sarah begins. Youve probably noticed things have been tense lately.
Yes, Margaret replies. James has told me.
Thats why Im here. Could you maybe stay out of our affairs?
Margaret raises an eyebrow.
This is my son! I have every right to be interested in his life.
Interested, yes. But not to turn him against me.
What do you mean? Margarets tone hardens.
I heard your conversation on the balcony yesterday.
Silence hangs. Margarets face pales, then flushes.
You were eavesdropping?
I didnt mean to. I was just airing the room and heard you say I should be kept in a iron fist.
What of it? Margaret stands tall. I was telling the truth. Youre too soft, youve let yourself go, just as I said.
I work from dawn till night! I care for the family, raise our daughter, support James, and I also work parttime at the library. Is that wrong?
Yes? Then why is the house always a mess? Why is James thin as a rail? Why cant you cook properly? And that library jobwhats that for? A womans place is at home, by the stove.
We dont live in the 1950s!
Thats why families fall apartwomen have forgotten their purpose, want careers, independence, and end up with unhappy husbands and neglected children.
Emily isnt neglected! I give her all my time!
Sure, Ive seen how you rush around, looking stressed. A child needs a calm mother.
Realising the conversation is at an impasse, Sarah stands.
Fine. Know that I wont give up. This is my family and Ill fight for it.
Margaret smirks. Remember, James is my son. Hell always listen to me, not you.
Sarah leaves, holding back tears, and only once shes back in her own flat does she let them flow. She sits at the kitchen table, crying until the sobs stop.
James returns later, looking gloomy.
You were at your mothers? he asks.
Yes.
Why?
I wanted to speak.
He sighs heavily. She called, said you were rude to her.
I wasnt! I just asked her not to interfere.
Shes just giving advice.
James, dont you see? Shes turning you against me! Shes manipulating you!
Thats nonsense, he shrugs. Mum just wants me happy.
Are you happy? Sarah looks him in the eye. Be honest.
He hesitates, then says, Im tiredtired of the accusations, the tears, the endless fights.
Then lets try to change things, like before.
It cant be like before, he mutters, walking into the bedroom.
Sarah stands in the kitchen, for the first time in years wondering if they should stay together at all.
That night she cant sleep. James lies beside her, turned toward the wall, the space between them as cold as an iceberg.
In the morning James leaves for work without a word. Sarah drops Emily at school and heads to the library.
Her manager, Claire, notices her distress.
Whats happened? Claire asks in the back room.
Sarah doesnt want to explain, but the words spill out: the overheard balcony talk, the visit to Margaret, the fights with James.
Claire listens, then says, Men are more easily swayed by their mothers. Your James is a mums boy, it shows.
But it wasnt like this before!
Before you lived apart. Now his mother lives nearby and can influence him constantly. Shes taking advantage of that.
What should I do?
First, dont give up. Second, try to win him back, remind him of who you were. Third, think about yourselfare you willing to keep fighting for someone who doesnt fight for you?
Those words stay with Sarah all day. She recalls their first meeting, the flowers James gave, the laughter, the birth of Emily, the nights they faced together. Somewhere inside the cold stranger still lives the James she loved. She just needs to reach him.
That evening she cooks his favouritefried potatoes with mushroomssets the table, lights candles.
James walks in, stops at the doorway.
Whats this?
Dinner, Sarah says with a smile. Shall we eat together, like before?
He sits uncertainly. She serves him, pours tea.
Remember our first summer at the lake? You almost drowned trying to prove you could swim.
He chuckles. You scolded me for a whole hour after that.
Because I was scared youd be gone, she admits. I thought Id lose you.
They chat a little about the past. James even cracks a smile a few times. Hope flickers.
Then his phone rings. He looks at the screen.
Mum, he says, heading toward the hallway.
Sarah hears fragments: Yes, Mum No, its fine Youre right I understand
When he returns, his face is closed again.
I have to go to my mum. Shes not feeling well.
Now? Its already evening.
Yes, its urgent.
He leaves without finishing his meal. Sarah sits at the table, the candles guttering, tears slipping into the potatoes, but she doesnt wipe them away.
Emily appears in the doorway.
Mum, why are you crying?
Just because, love. Go to bed.
Did you argue with Dad?
No, everythings fine.
Emily, perceptive for her age, hugs her.
Dont cry. I love you.
I love you too, sweetheart, Sarah whispers, holding her close.
James comes home late that night. Sarah is still awake.
Hows your mum? she asks.
Her blood pressure spiked, he replies.
James, we need to talk. Seriously.
Not now. Im exhausted.
When then? We cant keep avoiding each other.
Tomorrow. Well talk tomorrow.
Tomorrow never comes. James goes to work early, returns late, spends weekends at his mothers, then back to workagain and again.
Sarah realises this cant go on. She writes James a long message, explaining she loves him but cant live under this constant tension, that his mother is destroying their marriage, and that something must change or theyll lose each other.
He reads it but doesnt reply. That night he returns, brooding.
I read your message, he says. Youre overreacting.
Overreacting? We barely speak! You pick fights over everything! Were strangers!
Its because you wont change! he snaps. Mums right, youre stubborn and headstrong. I cant listen to anyone else.
Im not listening to your mother because she hates me! She wants to ruin our marriage!
Dont be ridiculous. She only wants whats best for us.
So why do you become a different person after every conversation with her?
James pauses, looking at her.
Maybe shes opening my eyes to things I ignoredhow the house is a mess, the food tastes bad, Im never satisfied.
Sarah feels something snap inside. He truly sees only her flaws.
Fine, she says quietly. Then maybe you should look for a perfect wife.
James pales.
What?
Im tired, James. Im tired of fighting, proving, justifying myself. If Im that bad, why do you stay?
Dont say stupid things.
Its not stupid. Its reality, Sarah replies. Think about it. Im going to bed.
She retreats to the bedroom, closes the door, lies down and feels a huge weight lift off her shoulders. She finally says what shes been holding in.
The next morning James leaves for work without a word. Sarah drops Emily at school and visits her old friend Lucy, whom shes known since school.
What on earth happened to you? Lucy gasps when she opens the door. You look awful.
Sarah tells her everything. Lucy listens, shaking her head.
You know what I think? Lucy says finally. James needs a good kick. Hes gotten too comfortable with you always being there, always tolerating him. He needs to feel youre not a given, like furniture.
How?
Take a break. Go stay with your parents for a week or two. Let him manage on his owncook, clean, take Emily to school. Hell see what hes missing.
Sarah considers it. It feels like blackmail.
Its not blackmail, Lucy insists. Its a wakeup call. When youre always there, he takes you for granted. Shake him up.
That same day Sarah calls her parents, who live three hours away by train. Her mother welcomes her and Emily instantly.
Come and stay, love, she says.
Sarah packs, tells Emily theyre going to Grandmas for a holiday. Emily cheers. She sends James a short text: Were at Mums for a week. Take some time to think. I need the same. She then puts her phone down, grabs Emilys hand, and leaves the flat.
On the train Emily falls asleep on Sarahs shoulder. Sarah watches the countryside roll by, wondering about the future. Will James come back? Will he stand up to his mother? Or is the marriage doomed?
At the station, her parents greet them warmly. Her mother asks, Is everything alright?
Later, Sarah whispers.
That night, after Emily is asleep, Sarah confides everything to her parents. Her father listens in silence, his face growing darker.
We should go speak to that boy, he mutters.
No, Dad, her mother says. Its our problem now.
Its our problem because youre our daughter, her mother adds. Were in this together.
Sarah smiles through tears, grateful for support.
She spends three days with her parents, unplugged from her phone, free of the constant worries. She walks with Emily, helps her mother with chores, chats with her father. She feels her spirit lift.
On the fourth day she finally checks her phone. There are thirty missed calls from James, a handful of angry messages, then more confused ones.
Where are you?
Why arent you answering?
Im worried!
Please tell me youre okay.
Sarah, Im sorry. We need to talk.
The last message arrives an hour later: I miss you and Emily. Please come home.
Sarah dials his number. He answers after the first ring.
Sarah! Thank God. Where are you?
At my parents. Everythings fine.
Why didnt you answer? Ive got nowhere to go!
I needed time to think. You too.
A pause follows.
Ive been thinking, James says quietly. I see now that youre right. Mum has been turning me against you. I didnt want to admit it.
Sarahs heart quickens.
Go on.
I tried to manage the house on my own when you were away. Im terrible at cooking, cleaning, everything. I realised how much you do. Im sorry, I was a blind fool.
What about your mumSarah, feeling the weight of years lift, nodded and told him they would try again, together.
