If youre not working, youll be cooking for us, declared my sisterinlaw as she stepped over the doorway.
Andrew, can you hear me? I cant take this any longer!
Emily stood in the living room, a crying baby Daisy cradled in her arms, feeling the pressure building inside her. Andrew lounged on the sofa, eyes glued to his phone, pretending not to notice the infants wail or her pleas.
What now? he said without even looking up.
What do you mean what now? I havent slept all night! Daisy has a fever, Ive been rocking her since midnight, and you were sound asleep in the guest room, barely stirring!
I have a shift tomorrow. I need to get some rest.
And I dont? Im a robot, right? Twentyfourhour duty!
Andrew finally put the phone down and glared at his wife.
Emily, stop having a fit. Youre at home, you can rest during the day. Im working from sunrise to sunset to keep us all fed.
A lump rose in Emilys throat. Home felt like a resort, not the endless cycle of dirty nappy changes and sleepless nights.
You know what, she rocked Daisy, who finally quieted. Go to bed. I wont bother you any more.
Andrew got up and headed to the bedroom, not even glancing at his daughter. Emily sank onto the sofa, pressing the warm little body against her chest. Daisy was only eight months old, still waking every few hours, demanding constant attention. Emily was exhausted to the point where she felt she had nothing left.
They had married three years ago. Back then Andrew courted her, brought flowers, whispered compliments. Emily worked as an administrator at a medical centre, Andrew was a project manager for a construction firm. They lived modestly but happily, until she became pregnant.
At first Andrew was thrilled, promising a son, a happy family. But once Emily went on maternity leave, he withdrew. He spent more time at work or with friends, and when Daisy arrived he seemed to disappear completely.
Emily knew a newborn was stressful for everyonesleepless nights, endless crying, fatiguebut she hoped they would face it together. Instead Andrew built a wall between them.
After putting Daisy down for a nap, Emily shuffled to the kitchen. It was half past ten and she hadnt had breakfast. A mountain of dirty dishes from yesterday sat in the sink, a pot of burnt porridge clung to the stove. She turned on the kettle automatically and began washing.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Andrew: Mom and Ingrid are arriving this evening. Theyll stay for a week. Have something ready for dinner.
Emily read it three times. Motherinlaw and sisterinlaw for a whole week, and he hadnt even asked if that was okay.
She replied: Andrew, I have a baby. How am I supposed to look after them too?
His reply was instant: Dont worry, just be nice. Theyre family.
Margaret, the motherinlaw, had been cold from the start, convinced Andrew could do better. Ingrid, Andrews sister, was a successful salon owner, proud of her single status, and openly declared after Daisys birth that children were a burden on career and freedom.
Now both would be staying in Emilys flat for an entire week.
By evening Emily had tidied the flat, cooked a simple stew and meatballs, changed Daisy into fresh clothes. She threw on the first thing she could finda pair of old jeans and a wrinkled tee. There was no time for fashion.
The doorbell rang at seven. Andrew opened it; he had just come home from work and flopped onto the sofa.
Mum! Ingrid! Come in!
Margaret swept into the hallway, inspecting everything with a critical eye. Ingrid followed, highheeled and clutching a large handbag.
Hello, Emily said, drying her hands on a towel.
Well, hello, Margaret replied dryly, not even removing her shoes. Andrew, help with the bags.
Ingrid stopped at the doorway, eyeing Emily.
Youve been sitting at home all day? At least dress decently when you have guests.
Emilys cheeks flushed.
Im sorry, I was looking after the baby.
I see, Ingrid shrugged, slipping off her shoes. Mum, I told you this place was a mess.
Emily stood in the hall, unsure what to do. Andrew flitted around, asking about the drive, never once looking at her.
Will you be having dinner? she asked, peeking into the living room.
What did you make? Margaret asked, squinting.
Stew and meatballs.
Stew? Ingrid snorted. We wanted something lightsalad, steamed fish.
I didnt know
Fine, bring what you have, Margaret waved a hand. Dont waste our time.
Emily set the table. Both women found fault with everything: the stew was too salty, the meatballs too dry, the bread stale. Andrew ate silently, never defending her.
Wheres the baby? Margaret asked once the plates were cleared.
Shes sleeping, Emily began to clear the dishes.
Wake her up, I want to see my granddaughter.
She just fell asleep, better not. Shell be up all night if we wake her.
I said wake her, Margarets voice hardened. Or Ill do it myself.
Emily went to the nursery. Daisy lay asleep, little arms stretched out, peaceful. It pained Emily to rouse her, but she had no choice.
What a nuisance, Ingrid complained when Emily returned with a sleepy, whimpering Daisy. She cries all the time.
Shes only eight months, Emily tried to soothe her. She got scared when we woke her.
Thats why I dont want kids, Ingrid muttered, turning away. Only trouble.
Margaret picked up Daisy, turning her gently.
She looks thin. Are you feeding her properly?
Of course I am!
You must have time only for yourself. Your flat isnt spotless.
Emily clenched her fists. She had spent the whole day cleaning, cooking, caring for the baby, and it still wasnt enough.
Mum, Ingrid, perhaps youd like to rest? Andrew offered. Youve been travelling all day.
Yes, perhaps, Margaret said, handing Daisy back. Andrew, show us where well be sleeping.
Ive set a pullout sofa in the lounge, Emily said. Thats all the spare space we have.
On a sofa? Ingrid raised an eyebrow. Seriously?
Ingrid, the baby room is yours, Andrew suggested. Well move Daisy to our bedroom for the night.
Emily wanted to argue but stayed quiet. It was useless.
When the guests finally settled, Emily moved the crib into her own bedroom. Daisy, having been woken, started fussing and couldnt settle. Emily rocked her, sang lullabies, but the baby kept crying.
Emily, do something! Andrew tossed in the bed. I have work tomorrow!
Im trying!
Not trying enough!
Emily slipped out with Daisy and shut the kitchen door, sitting on a stool, pressing the baby to her chest, and wept quietly with her.
The next morning a knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Emily, get up! Its nine oclock!
She opened her eyes. Daisy still slept in the cot, Andrew was nowhere in sight. Emily got up, pulled on a robe, and went downstairs.
Margaret and Ingrid were there, looking displeased.
Weve been up for an hour and theres no breakfast, Ingrid announced. At least we managed to turn on the kettle.
Sorry, I didnt hear you get up, Emily said, moving to the stove. What would you like?
An omelette, Margaret said. No butter, just dry. I cant have fat.
Ill have porridge, Ingrid added. Water only, no sugar. And a proper coffee, not instant.
Emily only had instant coffee, but she kept silent and started preparing.
Listen, Ingrid said, leaning back. Since youre home all day and not working, youll cook for us. Normal meals, not your stew. Well give you a list of what to buy and how to cook.
Emily froze, whisk in hand.
What?
Whats wrong with that? Ingrid shrugged. You do nothing all day, so at least be useful.
Im looking after a baby!
The baby sleeps half the day. You have plenty of time.
Emily glanced at Margaret, hoping for support, but the older woman simply nodded.
Ingrids right. Were family, after all. You should be happy to help. Youre not a good cook, so youll learn.
Wheres Andrew? Emily asked, feeling anger rise.
Hes at work, left early, Margaret said, sipping tea. By the way, your sugar is cheap. Next time buy better.
Emily finished the breakfast in painful silence. Her hands trembled, but she kept her composure, serving the bland porridge and overcooked omelette.
This is terrible, Ingrid said, pushing the plate away. The porridge is lumpy. Fix it.
I wont, Emily replied quietly but firmly.
How dare you talk to us like that? Margaret slammed her cup on the saucer. Were guests in this house!
Guests dont behave like this, Emily said, removing her apron. Im not your maid. I have a job too raising our child.
A job? Ingrid laughed. Sitting at home with a baby isnt work, love. Its nothing. Youre just leeching off my brother.
Enough, Emily said, turning to leave the kitchen.
Where are you going? Margaret called after her. The dishes arent done!
Emily didnt answer. She went to the bedroom, closed the door, and grabbed her phone. She texted Andrew: Your mother and sister are being rude. Either talk to them or Im moving back to my parents.
He replied half an hour later: Dont be dramatic. They just want to help. Hang in there for a week.
Hang in there. Always hang in there. Emily hurled the phone onto the bed.
Daisy woke and began to cry. Emily lifted her, changed her, fed her, while the muffled arguments of Margaret and Ingrid drifted from the kitchen: shameless, Andrew spoiled her, should have found someone else.
Emily took Daisy for a walk in the park, pushing the stroller beneath the autumn trees, trying to think of her next move.
She returned to find Margaret frying potatoes with mushrooms.
Oh, youre back, the motherinlaw said without turning. Where have you been?
Out for a walk.
Right. Since you dont want to cook, Ive made the mushrooms myself. Andrew loves them, but youve got almost nothing in the fridge.
Emily slipped past, laid Daisy down to sleep, and sat on the bed, staring at the wall. How had she ended up like this?
She used to be confident, cheerful, with friends, a job, hobbies. Now she felt like a trapped mouse, afraid to speak up in her own home.
That evening Andrew returned in a good mood.
How was your day? he asked, kissing his mother on the cheek.
Fine, Andrew. I made you the mushroom potatoes you like.
Thanks, mum! he said, sitting down. Wheres Emily?
Shes in the bedroom, looking tired, Ingrid said, polishing her nails on the sofa. We told her to cook, and she got angry.
Emily! Andrew called. Come here!
Emily emerged from the bedroom.
Whats happening?
Mum says you were rude this morning.
I was?
Yes, you were.
Thats not true! You said Id be cooking for you because I do nothing!
Andrew frowned.
Emily, really? Cant you endure a week? Theyre not strangers.
Andrew, do you hear what theyre saying?
I hear. Theyre speaking normally. Youre at home, you can help.
Im not just at home! I have a child!
The baby sleeps half the day, Ingrid interjected. Stop using that as an excuse.
Emily looked at her husbands indifferent face, at the way he calmly ate his potatoes. She finally saw that he was not on her side. He never had been.
I get it, she said, turning away.
Emily, wait! Wont you have dinner?
She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, tears burning but not falling. She had to think.
The next morning Emily rose before anyone else, packed a bag for herself and Daisyclothes, documents, a little stash of money she had saved. When Daisy woke, Emily fed and dressed her, called a taxi, and left the flat while Margaret and Ingrid were still asleep, and Andrew lay in bed. No one saw her off.
Her parents lived on the other side of town in a modest terraced house. Her mother opened the door in a robe, still halfasleep.
Emily? Whats wrong?
Mum, can we stay with you for a while?
Her mother let her in without a word. Her father appeared, understood instantly.
That bloke again? he said of Andrew.
Dad, please dont Emily sat on the sofa, exhausted. I just need to be here, think.
Her mother took Daisy in her arms.
Of course, love. Stay as long as you need.
Andrew called an hour later.
Emily, where are you? Mum says youre not home!
Im at my parents.
What? Come back immediately!
No.
What do you mean no? Youre my wife, your place is home!
Im tired, Andrew. Tired of you, your mother, your sister. I need time to think.
He fell silent.
Later that day her friend Claire, a schoolmate, called.
Emily, I heard you left him.
How did you hear?
Small town, news travels fast. What happened?
Emily explained.
Youre a nightmare, that motherinlaw and sisterinlaw! And your husband is useless.
I dont know what to do.
You should get a divorce. Why stay with a man who treats you like a servant? Your child will sense it. Kids notice when a mother is reduced to a housemaid.
Im scared.
Youre strong, youre not alone. Well help.
The call gave Emily a lift.
A week later Andrew returned, this time with flowers and a small gift for Daisy.
Emily, Ive thought a lot. Lets start over. Ill change, I swear.
How many times have you sworn before?
This time its real. Ive booked an appointment with a therapist. I want to understand why I behaved like that.
Emily looked surprised. Hed never liked therapy before, calling it nonsense.
Really?
Yes. Heres the confirmation; my first session is in two days.
Could he actually be serious?
Ill think about it, Emily said. Just dont pressure me.
Can I at least see Daisy?
Of course.
He went into the nursery, gently stroking the babys head. For the first time in months Emily saw him as a father, not a detached roommate.
When he left, her mother asked:
Going back to him?
I havent decided. I want to see if he truly changes.
Wise.
Emily spent two more weeks with her parents. Andrew visited every other day, sharing what he was learning in therapy: he feared responsibility, found it easier to blame Emily than admit his own failings, had grown up with a dominant father and a submissive mother, and was now trying to break that pattern.
He even spoke to Margaret, apologising and saying she had behaved poorly, that Emily was his wife and he should stand with her. She grudgingly agreed to treat Emily with more respect.
One morning Andrew announced:
Ive decided to give you part of my salary, officially, so you wont feel financially dependent.
Emily was stunned.
Thank you.
Its not a thank you, its right. You raise our child, run the house. Thats work too.
Tears welled up in Emilys eyes.
The next evening, as Daisy cried, Andrew got up before Emily, took the baby, and sang a simple lullaby, a little offkey but full of love.
Emily lay on the sofa, listening, feeling a flicker of hope.
Things werent perfect. Andrew still forgot things, sometimes slipped back into old habits, but he tried. He listened when Emily said she was overwhelmed instead of dismissing her.
A month later Margaret visited again, this time more restrained and polite. She didnt issue orders, just chatted. Ingrid didnt appear, but sent a birthday card for Daisy with an apologetic note.
Emily realised that tolerating disrespect for the sake of peace was never true peace. Real peace required respect, love, and equality. She also understood that sometimes you have to walk away for people to see your worth.
If this story sounds familiar, share it with a friend.She learned that her own happiness was the foundation upon which every healthy relationship must be built.
