James hauled his sons two blue suitcases up the stairs to the flat on the fourth floor, grumbling about the broken lift. The November rain had seeped through his coat, and all he wanted was a hot shower and a moment of peace. Working as an architect for a design firm in the City was exhausting, especially when clients kept changing their brief at the last minute.
The key turned in the aged lock with a sigh the lock was as old as the Victorian building itself. Anna pushed the door open and stopped dead. In the narrow hallway the suitcases took up almost the entire passage.
Charlie? Anna called, slipping off her damp shoes.
James emerged from the living room, looking unusually tense for a man who usually greeted his wife with a smile and a question about her day.
Ah, youre back. Listen, theres something I need to tell you He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured at the luggage. This is my son hes going to live with us now.
Anna hung her coat on the peg and tried to absorb what she had just heard. Charlie, Jamess fifteenyearold from his first marriage, had been living with his mother in Brighton. In the three years theyd been together, the boy had only turned up on weekends, and even then rarely.
What do you mean, live with us? Anna asked, her brow furrowing.
Just like that. Get used to it and youll be the one feeding him. Youre the homemaker, James said, as if he were announcing the purchase of a loaf of bread.
Anna felt her cheeks flush. When she married James three years ago shed known a teenager might come into the picture, but occasional visits were one thing; a permanent move was another, especially when the decision was made without even a conversation.
So you decided, so youll handle it, Anna replied evenly, fighting the urge to raise her voice.
James blinked, clearly not expecting that reaction.
What do you mean? We live together, so
Then tell me about your decisions instead of presenting me with a fait accompli, Anna cut in. Wheres my child?
Poppys at a friends doing homework. Shell be back for dinner.
Anna nodded and headed to the kitchen. Her daughter, Poppy, was in Year7 and often stayed over at her classmate Sophies the girls had been friends since primary school, and their parents kept a warm rapport.
Muffled voices drifted from the living room. James was saying something to his son, but the words were indecipherable. Anna fetched food from the fridge for dinner. She usually cooked with leftovers in mind James liked a hearty meal, and Poppy, at thirteen, could polish off an adult portion.
Tonight she boiled enough spaghetti for two, fried two cutlets, and tossed together a small bowl of salad.
Dinner! Anna called.
All three came to the table. Charlie looked uncertain, glancing between his father and stepmother. Hed grown since theyd last met taller, broadershouldered but still held himself stiffly.
Anna set plates for herself and Poppy. In front of James and Charlie the seats remained empty.
And for them? James asked, surprised at the empty places.
You brought him, so you provide for him, Anna replied calmly, serving pasta to her daughter.
Poppy lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Shed inherited from her mother the skill of staying out of adult spats unless absolutely necessary.
Charlie sat in silence, eyes fixed on his empty plate. The air at the table grew thick enough to cut with a knife.
Anna, what are you doing? James said more quietly than usual, but tension rang in every word.
Me? Im having dinner. What about you?
Charlie is a child!
Charlie is your child. I feed my daughter; you feed your son.
Anna took a bite of cutlet, chewing without taking her eyes off James. Jamess face turned a shade redder, his fists clenched on the table.
Mom, can I go to Sophies? Poppy asked softly.
Of course, love. Just be home by ten.
Poppy finished quickly and slipped out into the hallway. The front door slammed.
Dad, Im not really hungry, Charlie muttered.
Sit, James snapped. Dont go anywhere.
Anna finished her cutlet and moved on to the salad. The silence stretched. Finally James could bear it no longer.
Explain whats happening!
Whats there to explain? You made a decision on your own now live with the consequences.
We share this flat!
Its my flat, Anna corrected. I bought it before I met you. In my flat, I set the rules.
James rose sharply, knocking his chair over.
Youve lost your mind? Charlies been left without a mother!
What do you mean without a mother? Anna looked up. Did something happen to his mother?
No, but shes getting married to an American. Shes moving to the States. Charlie refuses to fly he wants to stay here.
I see. And you thought you could shift the responsibility for raising your son onto me?
I thought youd understand!
I do understand. I understand you never think you need to consult me about matters that affect our family.
Anna stood and began clearing the table. The clatter of plates sounded louder than usual.
Charlie, go to your room, she said without turning around.
He doesnt have his own room! James exploded.
Then let him sleep in yours. Or find a bigger flat.
With what money? Im not an architect! James protested.
Anna paused, dishes in her hands. James worked as a steelworker at a factory, earning modest wages, while Anna earned several times more as an architect. He knew it perfectly.
Exactly. Youre not an architect. You didnt buy this flat. And you dont get to decide who lives in it.
Charlie rose slowly and shuffled toward the bedroom, hunched as if trying to make himself invisible.
Anna, think with your head! James lowered his voice. Where am I supposed to put my son?
With his mother. Let her take him.
He doesnt want to go!
Then his grandmothers. Rent a room. There are plenty of options.
I dont have that kind of money!
Anna set the dishes in the sink and faced James.
James, Im not against Charlie. Im against you making decisions for me. If you want your son to live with us, lets discuss the terms like adults.
What terms? James looked bewildered.
The basics. Who buys groceries, who cooks, who does the laundry, who cleans. Who pays the utilities theyll go up with a third resident. Who buys a bed the boy needs somewhere to sleep, not the sofa. Who attends parentteacher meetings, who deals with doctors and tutors.
James stood silent, shifting his weight.
Did you think about any of that when you dragged those suitcases in? Anna continued. Or were you counting on me to take everything on while you come home to a hot dinner and ironed shirts?
Thats not what I meant
What did you mean then?
Well were one family now
Anna sat on a stool and looked straight at her husband.
James, in three years youve never once asked my opinion about raising Charlie. You never asked how I felt about him moving in and treating the flat like a hotel. He shows up, eats, sleeps, leaves. Hes never once said thank you.
Hes just shy
Maybe. But thats not my problem. Thats your problem as his father.
So what do you suggest?
Anna opened the fridge, taking out eggs, bread, and some sausage.
I suggest you feed your child. And tomorrow morning well calmly discuss the conditions under which Charlie can stay here.
James cracked the eggs into a pan without a word. Anna slipped into the bedroom. Charlie sat on the edge of the double bed, staring at his sneakers.
Charlie, Anna called gently.
The boy looked up, eyes rimmed with red.
I have nothing against you, she said softly. But decisions that affect everyone should be made by everyone. Do you understand?
Charlie nodded.
Good. Then tomorrow well talk about how we can all live together.
Anna slipped into the bathroom, the mirror reflecting the tired face of a thirtysixyearold woman who had just realised that family life could serve up surprises worse than a broken lift.
On the other side of the wall, the eggs sizzled, and a father whispered something to his son. Anna turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face, wondering what the next day would bring.
Monday morning James woke before the usual hour. Anna heard him fumbling in the kitchen, trying to make breakfast. The sounds said it all pans clanging, oil hissing, curses muttered under his breath.
Mom, whats that smell? Poppy asked, appearing in the kitchen.
Your stepdad is making breakfast for his son, Anna replied, pouring juice for her daughter.
Smells burnt.
Then somethings burnt.
James emerged, face flushed and hair disheveled, holding a plate with a charred omelette.
Charlie, breakfast is ready! he shouted toward the bedroom.
The boy shuffled out, looked at the black mass on the plate, and grimaced.
Dad, maybe just toast and butter?
Eat what youre given, James snapped, even though he knew the dish was inedible.
Silently, Anna got Poppy ready for school, kissed her, and sent her off. James left for the factory as well. Charlie stayed alone in the flat his lessons at school wouldnt start until the next day.
That evening James came home tired and hungry. As usual, Anna cooked dinner for two herself and Poppy.
Anna, can you stop this mockery already? James said across the table, empty plate in front of him.
Im not mocking anyone. Im eating.
Charlie was hungry all day!
And where were you all day?
At work!
Fine. Then leave him money for lunch or cook in the morning.
James fell silent, realizing he had no argument. After dinner he went to the corner shop and bought convenience foods readymade pies, sausages, instant noodles.
Tuesday morning the same routine repeated. James boiled the pies, but overcooked them until they turned to mush. Charlie poked at the soggy mess with his spoon and sighed.
Dad, can I go to Grandmas?
Why?
No reason its just boring here.
Bear with it a bit. Youll get used to it.
But Charlie didnt get used to it. He drifted around the flat, watched TV, played on his phone. By midweek the teenager started complaining that the place felt stale and uncomfortable.
Dad, when is Mom coming back from America? he asked.
Shes not coming back, Charlie. She lives there now.
Maybe I should fly to her then?
James didnt answer, but his patience was wearing thin. He wasnt used to cooking, doing laundry, or keeping the flat tidy. By Thursday a mountain of dirty dishes piled in the sink, laundry was strewn across the bedroom, and the bin overflowed with empty packets from the ready meals.
Everythings on me! James exploded that evening. Im working, cooking, cleaning!
Welcome to adulthood, Anna replied calmly, rinsing her plate.
You can see Im not managing!
I can. So?
Help me!
Why? This was your decision.
James clutched his head and paced the kitchen.
Youre cruel!
Im consistent.
Charlie is a child!
Charlie is your child. Youre his father. Cope with it.
Anna stood and went to her room. Half an hour later James tried to start a scene in the bedroom, but each time Anna calmly repeated the same thing:
That was your decision.
Friday evening the landline rang. James snatched the receiver.
Hello, Mum Yeah, everythings fine Hows Charlie? Hes adjusting The voice on the other end grew louder. Anna caught fragments.
Hes complaining! Hes going hungry!
James, please bring him over immediately! Today!
James tried to object, but his mother was adamant. The call lasted ten minutes. He put down the phone and sighed heavily.
Mums taking Charlie to her place.
Good, Anna said, not looking up from her book.
Good? You dont care?
Its not that I dont care. Its that I feel relieved. The flat will be in order again.
Are you serious?
Absolutely.
Saturday was rainy. James packed Charlies things into the same blue suitcases he had brought a week earlier. Charlie helped his father, but it was clear the boy was more relieved than anything to be moving to his grandmothers.
Mrs. Hughes is a good woman, Anna told her husband. Shell handle it better than you.
Shes a pensioner! Shes seventy!
But experienced. She raised a son; shell raise a grandson.
James zipped the suitcase and straightened up.
Maybe I was wrong somewhere.
Not somewhere. Specifically. You made a decision without consulting me and shifted the responsibility onto my shoulders without asking.
James dragged the suitcases into the hallway. Charlie put his things together and stood by the door.
Anna, thank you for letting me stay, he said quietly.
Youre welcome, Charlie. You can always visit, but as a guest when youre invited.
The door closed behind father and son. Anna was left alone in the quiet flat. She walked through the rooms, assessing the damage. A major cleanup would be needed the men had made quite a mess.
She sat in the armchair and opened the novel shed set aside for a week. The home now smelled of cleanliness and calm. No one had to be fed against her will. No one was shifting their responsibilities onto someone else.
Around eight, Poppy came back from Sophie’s house. Shed spent the weekend waiting out the family crisis.
Mom, where is everyone?
Charlie moved to his grandmothers; your stepdad took him.
He talked to us about it?
He does now, Anna smiled.
So were having dinner for two?
For two.
Mother and daughter set the table for two. Poppy told stories about her weekend at Sophies, and Anna listened, realizing the week of standoff hadnt been for nothing. James had learned the main rule: in this house, decisions are made together, and no one takes on someone elses duties without consent.
Around nine, James returned, looking tired and guilty.
How are things? Anna asked.
Fine. Mum cooked him soups for the week. She was happy to have her grandson.
Thats good. Mrs. Hughes loves taking care of someone.
And you dont? James asked quietly.
I do. But only those I choose myself. And only when Im asked, not forced.
James nodded and sat at the table. Anna placed a bowl of soup in front of him. He looked up in surprise.
Thats for you. Because today you did the right thing you found the child a suitable place without dumping the responsibility on me.
James took the spoon and began to eat. Over the week he had come to understand that being a parent is hard work, and forcing that work onto others is unfair.
Anna, Im sorry, he said between mouthfuls.
For what?
For not thinking. For not asking. For deciding for you.
Good. The important thing is it doesnt happen again.
It wont.
Anna poured herself tea and sat opposite her husband. Peace and order reigned in the flat once more. Most importantly, James had learned his lesson. He now knew his wife would not let anyone decide for her, and she would not shoulder someone elses responsibilities without her own consent.
The evening passed quietly. A family of three had dinner, watched television, and planned the next day. No one was forced to eat. No one complained about discomfort. Harmony was restored in Annas home built on mutual respect and shared decisions. The real lesson lingered: a household thrives only when every voice is heard and every burden is shared, not imposed.
