Take off your wedding ring, dear, my daughter needs it more, demanded the motherinlaw over the Sunday roast.
Ian hammered his fingertips on the table, his jaw clenched as he glared at his wife. We cant keep putting this off, Eleanor! Either you see a doctor, or Ill book an appointment and drive you there myself.
Dont start that again, Eleanor sighed, running a hand through her hair. Its only been three months. The doctor said we should wait six before we start worrying.
Three months? Ian snorted. Weve been married two years. Two! And still nothing. My mum asks every day when shell be getting grandkids.
Eleanor turned toward the cupboard, pretending to look for something. Talk of children always ended in a tiff. She wanted a baby too, but the whole situation felt like trying to grow a plant in a desert, especially with her motherinlaw breathing down her neck.
Speaking of your mum, Eleanor shifted the subject, dont forget theyre coming over for dinner tomorrow. We need to shop.
Ive already bought the stuff, Ian muttered, cooling down. Mum wants duck with apples, just like at Christmas. She says Dad misses your cooking.
Eleanor managed a weak grin. At least one person appreciated her culinary skills her husbands side of the family, unlike his mother, who could find a flaw in anything Eleanor did.
Is Lucy coming too? Eleanor asked, referring to Ians younger sister.
Absolutely. And shes not alone, Ian perked up. Mum says shes got a proper boyfriend now. A doctor.
Eleanor felt a tiny sting of envy. Lucy, twentytwo, already had three serious lads in the past year. Her motherinlaw often held Lucy up as the golden child: gorgeous, clever, careerready. Meanwhile, Eleanor, at thirty, was still childless and stuck in a deadend at the office.
Im sorry, love, Ian said, slipping his arms around her from behind. Im not trying to pressure you. Im just worried.
I know, she placed her hand over his. All right. Ill make your favourite duck tomorrow and everyone will be happy.
He kissed her cheek, trudged off to watch the football on the sofa, and Eleanor stayed in the kitchen, mentally ticking off everything that needed to be done for tomorrow: wash the fine china, iron the tablecloth, polish the silverware anything less than immaculate would earn a snide remark from Margaret Whitaker. And she still had to decide what to wear elegant but not ostentatious. Margaret always found something to critique.
The next morning Eleanor rose before Ian. He was still snoring, so she slipped out of bed quietly, determined to tackle the long day ahead.
By three oclock the flat gleamed. The duck was roasting, filling the hallway with a sweet, fruity scent, and the table looked as if they were expecting royalty rather than the usual family. Eleanor examined herself in the mirror: a navyblue sheath dress with a modest collar made her look taller; a touch of makeup brightened her face. On her finger glinted a modest platinum band with a tiny diamond a wedding gift from her parents.
You look stunning, Ian said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
Thanks, she replied, trying to steady her nerves. I hope your mum enjoys the dinner.
Im sure she will, he winked. Who can resist your duck?
The doorbell rang precisely at five. Margaret was never late.
Dearest! she exclaimed, sweeping into the flat and planting a kiss on Ians cheek. Eleanor received a stiff handshake and a dry How have you been?
Following her was Nigel Whitaker, Ians father a tall, silverhaired gentleman with a kindly smile. He embraced Eleanor and whispered, It smells amazing, love. My mouths watering.
Eleanor smiled gratefully at him; he was the one person she could always get along with.
Wheres Lucy? Ian asked as he helped the parents shed their coats.
Shell be here a bit later, with Arthur, Margaret said, eyeing the hallway. Theyre stuck at the clinic.
Arthur? Eleanor queried.
Her fiancé, a neurosurgeon. Very promising, Margaret declared proudly.
Ian blinked. You never mentioned they were engaged.
Not officially, Margaret waved it off. But its only a matter of time. Hes hinted at proposing.
Eleanor caught the look from Nigel, who rolled his eyes subtly, as if to say, Here we go again, mothers imagination masquerading as fact.
Come on in, everyone, Eleanor said, gesturing toward the living room. Ill set the table. Ian, could you give me a hand?
Ian opened a bottle of red and began pouring, while Eleanor arranged the starters.
Dont mind Mum, he murmured. She always blows things out of proportion, especially about Lucy.
I know, Eleanor forced a smile. All right, lets get the salads out.
Half an hour later Lucy arrived a vivacious blonde with a fashionable bob and immaculate manicure accompanied by a darkhaired man in his midthirties, dressed sharply in a suit.
Hey everyone! Lucy chirped, hugging her brother. This is Arthur. Arthur, meet Ian and Eleanor.
Pleasure, Arthur said, shaking Ians hand and nodding at Eleanor. Thanks for having us.
Its a family tradition, Eleanor smiled. Monthly dinner.
A wonderful tradition, Arthur replied. Family is everything.
Margaret beamed at Lucy and her beau.
See, Ian? Lucy may be younger, but shes already landed herself a fine match. Arthur runs the neurosurgery department, by the way.
Lucy rolled her eyes. Were just dating, Mum. No need to make a fuss.
Nothing to fuss about, Margaret said, patting Lucys hand. I can see the chemistry. Meanwhile, you two have been married two years and still no nest, no kiddos.
Ian, Margaret snapped. Weve talked about this.
I didnt say anything, Ian muttered. You know how she is.
Just stating facts, Margaret replied with an innocent grin.
Conversation drifted to the news, politics, and the latest family gossip. The duck was a hit; even Margaret praised it. Eleanor began to relax, hoping the evening would pass without incident.
When dessert a homemade tiramisu was about to be served, Lucy suddenly clutched her finger.
Whats wrong? Arthur asked.
My ring is digging into my skin, Lucy complained, slipping off a thin gold band with a tiny stone. Maybe my fingers swollen from the heat.
Margaret snatched the ring, examined it, and declared, Thats cheap costume jewellery! You deserve something better, love.
Its a gift, Lucy tried to retrieve it.
From whom? Margaret pressed.
A colleague, Lucy replied reluctantly. For my birthday.
From Kyle? Margaret squinted. I knew it! Still seeing that scoundrel?
Mum, hes not a scoundrel, just a friend! Lucy protested.
Margaret sniffed and turned to Arthur. Dont mind her, Arthur. Lucys had a dodgy fling, but shes realised hes not right for her.
Eleanor noticed Arthurs tension he hadnt known about the friend. Margaret, sensing the awkwardness, tried to smooth things over.
Eleanors right not to wear cheap trinkets, she said, gesturing at her own hand. A proper ring is what a married woman should have.
Eleanor instinctively covered her own hand with the other, as if shielding it.
Ian chose this one, Margaret continued, nostalgic. He showed us catalogues, asked for advice
It was a gift from my parents, Eleanor interjected softly. A family heirloom.
Silence fell. Margaret pursed her lips.
I thought Ian bought it, she said finally.
Its from my parents, Ian added, trying to smooth the rift.
Lovely of them, Margaret said, though her tone hinted at displeasure. In our family we have traditions too. I wore my motherinlaws ring, and I hoped to pass it on one day.
First time Ive heard that, Nigel muttered, ignored by his wife.
And Lucy could use a nice ring now, given her serious relationship, Margaret pressed, shifting her gaze between Lucy and Eleanor.
Eleanor felt a cold knot form in her stomach.
You want me to give my wedding ring to Lucy? she asked, stunned.
Why not just lend it? Margaret feigned innocence. She might be engaged soon, shell need something appropriate. Youre married, you dont need to wear it every day.
The room grew tense.
Dont, Lucy said sharply. I dont want someone elses ring.
Its not someone elses, its familys, Margaret snapped. Take it off, dear, my daughter needs it more. Look at her fiancé!
All eyes turned red Eleanor with fury, Lucy with embarrassment, Arthur with discomfort. Only Margaret remained unruffled, as if she hadnt crossed a line at all.
Eleanor stood slowly. Excuse me, I need to check the dessert, she said, voice trembling, and slipped out to the kitchen.
She leaned against the fridge, trying to steady her shaking hands. Six years with Ian had taught her to expect his mothers antics, but tonight was a new high: demanding a family heirloom for a sisterinlaw who might not even be planning a wedding.
The kitchen door opened and Nigel entered.
Dont be hard on her, love, he whispered. Your mother can be a bit eccentric, especially when it comes to Lucy.
Its more than eccentric, Nigel, Eleanor replied, eyes flashing. Its disrespectful to me, my family, our marriage.
I know, Nigel said, guiltlined. Ill talk to her. You dont have to take it to heart.
Eleanor gave a small nod, though she doubted any conversation would change Margaret. She plated the tiramisu and returned to the living room.
Ian appeared, looking bewildered.
Lena, how are you? he asked, not meeting her eyes.
Just how you think, she replied quietly. Your mother just demanded my wedding ring for your sister, and you said nothing.
I get it, Ian ran a hand through his hair. She shes that way. Its easier to ignore than to argue.
Ignore? Eleanor raised an eyebrow. Youre talking about a piece of jewelry thats a symbol of our vows. And you think silence is the answer?
No, of course not, Ian said, moving closer, trying to hug her. She stepped back. I just dont want a scene. Lets finish the night, then Ill speak to her properly.
The same promises youve made before, Eleanor said, bitterness tinging her voice. And they never change.
Ill bring the dessert, she said, placing the plates on a tray. Im going to lie down. My head hurts.
She left the room, paused at the doorway, and smiled weakly at the guests. Sorry, Im not feeling well. Ian will bring the dessert. Enjoy.
She closed the bedroom door behind her.
An hour later the last guests trickled out, the flat echoing with exhausted goodbyes. The front door shut, and silence settled.
Ian knocked softly on her bedroom door.
Lena, can I come in?
She didnt answer, so he peeked in. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window at the grey London skyline.
Theyre gone? she asked without turning.
Yes, Ian said, sitting beside her. Lucy apologized for her mum, as did Arthur. They were both mortified.
And you? she asked, turning to face him. Were you mortified?
Absolutely, he admitted, head bowed. I should have stood up for you.
Yet you didnt, she said, a dry laugh escaping. Again.
I didnt know what to do, Ian confessed. Shes your mother. If I argue, it just makes things worse.
Worse? Eleanor chuckled cynically. Your mother publicly shamed me, demanded a family heirloom, and you stayed silent. Thats the worst I can think of.
She rose and walked to the window.
I keep wondering what the future holds, she said, watching the city lights flicker. If we have a baby, will your mum decide how to raise it? Will you keep staying quiet?
Dont dramatise it, love, Ian said, slipping his arm around her waist. She just loves Lucy a bit too much, wants the best for her.
At whose expense? Eleanor shot back. Your mothers best is stealing my ring, my security, my peace. It isnt love, its selfishness, and you enable it by staying silent.
They stood facing each other, and Eleanor realised the pattern would never break.
Im tired, Ian, she whispered. Six years Ive tried to fit into your family, and your mother never lets me in. Not ever.
What are you saying? Ians eyes widened with fear.
She looked at her wedding band, the tiny diamond catching a streetlamps glow.
I think we need to think seriously about our future together or not.
Ian went pale.
You cant, he began.
I dont know, she admitted. But today I saw that youll never choose my side against your mother. I cant live like that.
She slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand.
Im going to my parents house for a few days. I need space to think.
Lena, please, Ian grabbed her hand. Lets talk. Ill change, Ill talk to my mum, Ill
Youve said that a hundred times, she said sadly. Nothing changes. Nothing will.
She gently freed her hand and began packing. Ian stood by the window, unsure what to do, as the weight of his mothers overreach settled heavily on his shoulders.
When she finally closed the bedroom door, Ian sank onto the edge of the bed. The wedding ring lay glinting on the nightstand, a silent reminder of promises hed failed to keep. He picked it up, feeling the cool metal, and wondered if it was still possible to set things right. He would have to learn to say no even to his own mother.
