Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family photo, the sisterinlaw says, lowering the camera.
Did you oversalt the borscht on purpose, or do you just not know how to cook? the motherinlaws voice is low, but every word rings in Olivias ears.
I followed the recipe you gave me, Olivia replies, trying to stay calm. You were the one who handed it to me.
Of course, its my fault, snorts Margaret, pushing her plate away dramatically. Mark, are you really going to eat that?
Mark doesnt even glance up. He methodically finishes his bowl as if nothing is wrong. Sophie, the sisterinlaw, sits opposite, smiling with the same smug grin that makes Olivias fists clench under the table.
Mom, why are you being so harsh? Sophie finally says. Maybe shes just used to a different style of cooking. Their family does things differently.
Olivia hears the tone clearly it sounds protective but actually fans the flames. Sophie always does that: soft and smiling, yet cutting.
Mark, say something, Olivia cant hold back.
Mark looks up slowly.
Whats there to say? The soups fine. Eat it and stop nitpicking.
Saw that, Mom, Sophie reaches for the bread. Mark likes it, so it must be okay.
Margaret tightens her lips but says nothing more. The lunch continues in a tense silence, broken only by the clink of cutlery and Sophies occasional remarks about work, a new car she plans to buy, and an upcoming holiday in Spain.
Olivia mechanically eats her portion. Three years. Three years of marriage to Mark, three years of putting up with constant motherinlaw remarks, Sophies poisonous jokes, and Marks mute compliance. She thought time would smooth things out, that shed find a place in the family. The longer it goes on, the clearer it becomes that shell never belong.
After the meal she clears the table, washes the dishes, while the women drift into the sitting room for tea. Mark retreats to the bedroom, claiming he has to work. Olivia catches snippets from the kitchen.
Shes trying, but you can see shes not one of us, Margaret says.
Come on, Mom, enough. Mark loves her; they get on fine.
Love, love Love will fade, the chores and the problems stay. Shes just a quiet little mouse no backbone, no character.
Olivia squeezes the dishcloth tighter. A quiet mouseyes, thats how shes always been described. As a child her parents taught her to stay modest and obedient. In school she never argued with teachers; at university she endured classmates jokes in silence. Now, at thirtytwo, she still swallows slights without a word.
Olivia, bring us some biscuits! Sophie calls from the lounge.
Olivia wipes her hands, fetches a tin of biscuits, and carries them over. Margaret and Sophie lounge on the sofa, scrolling through their phones.
Mom, look at this dress! Ill wear it to the party, Sophie shows a picture. Max will love it.
Lovely, dear. Red suits you.
Olivia places the tin on the coffee table, ready to leave, when Margaret stops her.
Olivia, when are you and Mark planning children? Its been three years already.
The question lands like a slap.
We arent ready yet.
Not ready? At your age you should be. I want grandchildren; Im not forever. Why are you dragging this out?
Maybe they have their own issues, Sophie interjects. A lot of couples do.
What issues? Marks fine. It must be you.
Olivia feels her cheeks flush. She wants to explain that its a joint decision, that they want to get on their feet and buy a flat first, but the words stick.
Im going, she manages.
In the hallway Olivia leans against the wall, closes her eyes. Everything inside her boils. Every weekend repeats the same pattern: visiting Marks parents, feeling like a servantcooking, cleaning, tolerating criticism while Mark stays silent. She rushes to the bathroom, splashes cold water on her face. She tells herself to hold on a little longer; soon theyll be home, where things are easier. At their own place Mark is attentive and caring, but here he becomes a docile boy.
Back in the lounge, Sophie pulls out a camera.
Mom, lets take a family photo! Weve never had a proper one.
What a great idea! Mark, come here! Margaret calls.
Mark, yawning, steps out of his room.
Whats happening?
Were doing a family picture.
Right, lets do it.
Sophie arranges everyone. She seats Margaret in an armchair, places Mark beside her.
Mom, you sit here; Ill stand on the other side of Mark.
Olivia stands aside, unsure whether to join. Sophie fiddles with the camera, muttering to herself.
May I join too? Olivia asks tentatively.
Sophie looks up, holds Olivias gaze a moment, then smirks.
Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family photo, she says, lowering the camera.
A heavy silence falls. Olivia stands frozen, disbelief flashing through her. Margaret looks away as if she didnt hear. Mark remains silent.
What? Olivia manages.
Nothing, just a family photo. Mom, me, Markyoure not part of this, Sophie shrugs.
Im Marks wife.
And so what? Wives come and go, families stay.
Mark finally looks up from his shoes.
Sophie, enough. Olivia will be in the picture.
Fine, fine, Im only joking, Sophie waves her hand. Stand over here, on the side.
But Olivia cant hear any more. Something inside her snaps. She turns and heads for the hallway, jacket trembling on her arms.
Olivia, where are you going? Mark calls after her.
Home.
But we agreed to stay for dinner.
Im not staying. Stay if you want, with your family.
Olivia, dont be like that. You know Sophies a fool.
I know. I know your mother, I know you.
She walks out without a goodbye. Mark doesnt follow. He stays with his mother and sisterhis real family.
The October wind bites as Olivia hurries down the street, tears blurring her vision. The hurt and fear are overwhelming, but she knows she cant keep living like this.
She collapses onto the sofa at her mothers house, finally letting the tears flow. After a long sobbing, she washes her face, brews a cup of tea, and sits by the window. The streetlights flicker outside as she ponders her next move.
Later that night Mark returns, slipping in quietly, apologetic.
Olivia, are you awake?
She stays silent.
Why did you react like that? Sophie was just being stupid.
Its not a joke, Mark.
I know, she misspoke. Shes always saying odd things.
And you? Why do you always stay quiet when they put you down?
Mark sighs, rubbing his face. What can I do? Theyre my mother and sister. I cant fight them over every little thing.
Over a little thing? Olivias voice trembles. You call it a little thing when Im insulted?
No ones insulting you! Your mother just likes to control everything. Sophies spoiled, but they dont mean it.
Should I keep enduring?
Dont endure, speak up. Im not stopping you.
Olivia smiles bitterly.
Speak up, and then youll be angry with me for upsetting your mother.
She recalls a conversation from six months ago, when she told his mother they couldnt keep visiting every weekend. Mark didnt speak to her for a week, calling her ungrateful. She also remembers Sophies comment that it was strange Mark married someone like hera grey mouse with no beauty or wit. Mark laughed then, saying at least she was handy.
Enough, Mark, Olivia says, I thought you loved me, that I mattered. Turns out Im just convenientcooking, cleaning, never arguing.
What nonsense is that? Mark snaps.
Its the truth. Your sister was right earlier. My place is the kitchen. Thats all Im good for.
Stop! Mark jumps up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Youre blowing this out of proportion.
You think its nothing? Olivias voice cracks. They belittle me and you stay quiet! Is that nothing?
No ones belittling you! Youre just too sensitive! Have a sense of humour!
Olivia stands, walks to the bedroom, pulls out her bag, and starts packing.
What are you doing? Mark asks from the doorway.
Im leaving. To my mums.
Because of that remark?
Not just the remark. Because you cant see me, cant hear me.
Olivia, lets talk calmly, no screaming.
Im not screaming. I just cant go on. I need to think.
She zips the bag and heads for the door. Mark blocks her path.
You cant just walk away. Were a family.
What family, Mark? Your family is your mum and Sophie. Im a stranger there, and here too.
She slips past him and steps out, leaving the flat behind.
Her mother greets her at the doorstep, surprised.
Olivia, whats happened? Why are you alone?
Can I stay with you for a while?
Of course, love. Come in.
Her mother doesnt pry. She always knows when Olivia needs quiet. They sip tea in the kitchen, chat about neighbours, work, everyday things. Olivia listens, feeling the tension ease.
How did you manage so many years with your dad? Olivia asks.
Her mother thinks for a moment.
Respect is the key in marriage. Love comes and goes, but respect stays. Your father always respected my opinion, protected me when needed.
And if he didnt?
If he didnt, it wasnt a marriage, it was torment. You shouldnt be a servant in your own home.
Olivia nods. She already knew it, but hearing it from her mother matters.
Mark calls the next day. She doesnt answer. He texts, Olivia, come home, lets talk. She doesnt reply.
A week passes. Olivia works, visits her mother, processes her feelings. The anger fades, leaving exhaustion and the realization that things cant stay as they were.
Mark shows up on Saturday, knocks, and her mother opens.
May I speak with Olivia? she asks politely.
Olivia joins her mother in the living room. Mark looks tired, unshaven, dark circles under his eyes.
I miss you, he says simply.
I miss you too, Olivia admits. But that doesnt change anything.
What do you want from me?
To see me, to hear me, to protect me when it matters, to be your wife, not just the housekeeper.
Mark stays silent, then nods.
I understand. I was wrong. I thought staying out of the way would help, but youve been handling everything alone.
I wasnt handling it. I was silent, tolerating. You thought everything was fine.
Im sorry. Truly sorry.
I dont need apologies. I need change.
What exactly?
Olivia takes a deep breath.
Im not coming to your parents every weekend. Once a month at most. And if your mum or Sophie insult me, you step in. I shouldnt have to defend myself.
Deal.
And Im done being quiet. Ill speak my mind. If you dont like it, tell me now.
Mark smiles, the first genuine smile of the conversation.
Speak. Im curious to see the real you when youre not silent.
Seriously?
Very seriously. I like it when youre angry, your eyes sparkle.
Olivia laughs, the sound genuine.
Ill come back home. But if it happens again, Im leaving for good.
It wont happen, Mark promises firmly.
They leave together. The house is quiet, empty. Olivia walks through each room, seeing it anewher home, her family, her right to respect.
A month later Mark truly changes. He asks her opinion more, and when his mother calls demanding a weekend visit, he says they have plans. Margaret frowns but stays quiet.
When they finally visit his parents three weeks later, the atmosphere is different. Olivia feels more confident, less fearful. The lunch goes relatively smoothly. Margaret tries to critique the cooking once, but Mark redirects the conversation. Sophie remains distant but polite.
After lunch, while Olivia washes the dishes, Sophie comes into the kitchen.
I wanted to apologise for the photo comment, she says hesitantly.
Olivia turns, towel in hand.
For what exactly?
For that line about the picture. Mark scolded me later, said I was out of line.
You were out of line.
Sophie nods.
Its just hard to accept that Mark now has another family. We were always close, and now youre here.
I didnt take him from you. I just love him.
I know. Im selfish; I wanted things to stay as they were.
Nothing stays the same forever. We grow, we change, we form our own families.
Sophie smiles sadly.
Youre right. Im sorry, truly.
I forgive you, but dont do that again.
Sophie agrees.
They return to the lounge where Margaret flips through a magazine and Mark watches TVa typical family scene.
Mom, lets finally get that family photo, Sophie says.
Great idea.
She pulls out her phone, switches to camera mode.
Alright, Olivia, stand next to Mark. Mum, sit in the chair. Ill take the edge.
Olivia steps beside her husband. Mark puts an arm around her. Sophie frames the shot.
Smile! One, two, three!
The shutter clicks. Sophie checks the screen, nods.
Looks good. Real family.
Olivia looks at the picture. For the first time in a long while she feels truly part of the family not a servant, not an outsider, but a full member.
On the drive home she watches the road, thinking about how much has changed in a month. She has learned to speak up, to defend herself. Mark has learned to listen. Even Sophie and Margaret have become more careful with her.
What are you thinking about? Mark asks, glancing at her.
About how sometimes you have to walk away to be heard.
I hear you now. I wont lose you again.
Olivia smiles. There is still work ahead, but now they are genuinely together.
Later, at home, while they sip tea in the kitchen, Mark asks,
Will you really stop being silent?
I wont. Ready?
Ready. Surprise me.
Olivia bursts into genuine laughter, the first hearty laugh in ages, because she finally believes she has the right to be herself, to have a voice, and a place not only in the kitchen but also in the family photo.
