Natalie looks at Max and cant believe what shes hearing. She thinks she must have misheard. Max sighs heavily, runs a palm across his face as if trying to wipe away fatigue.
My mum has sold the cottage in the countryside, he repeats, lowering his voice. She only has enough money for part of the flat. Shes moving in with us for a while until she decides what to do next.
Natalie freezes, a mug of coffee cooling in her hands, though she doesnt notice the temperature change. One thought thunders through her mind: how is she going to move in? Into their tiny twobedroom flat in London?
Max, remember were renting this flat, she says. Weve only got one spare living room, and its tiny.
Max turns sharply toward her, his face tight, his eyes shadowed with a kind of resignation.
And what am I supposed to do? Kick her out onto the street?
Natalie sets the mug down on the table.
Im not saying that, she replies. We just need to figure out how to make it work. Its not just for a week, is it?
Max starts babbling, and a thread of hope slips into his tone:
For three or four months at most. Shell sort something out, and then well be fine.
Natalie stays silent, remembering how her motherinlaw always found something to criticize the soup being undersalted, the dress too short, the job not respectable enough. Now this woman will be living under the same roof.
Max steps closer and takes her hands; his fingers are cold.
Natalie, understand. Shes my mother. I cant abandon her like this.
Natalie meets his gaze, sees a plea, almost desperation, and nods, even though every part of her rebels, shouting for her to refuse.
Alright, she exhales. But no more than four months. Deal?
Deal, Max replies, relief flickering across his face.
Three days later Margaret arrives with three massive suitcases and two bags. As soon as she steps over the threshold, she scans the flat, purses her lips as if tasting something sour.
This flat is tiny, and its rather dark in here, she says.
Max hurriedly gathers the suitcases, trying to smooth over the moment.
Mum, youll sleep in the bedroom. Natalie and I will take the sofa. Itll be fine.
Natalie freezes in the doorway. She hadnt expected this turn. Max hadnt even consulted her; he just decided to give up their bedroom.
Max, can we discuss this? she asks quietly, as Margaret disappears to unload her belongings.
Max waves a tired hand without meeting her eyes.
Natalie, whats there to discuss? Mum cant sleep on the sofa; her back aches. Well manage for a bit. Its only temporary.
Natalie nods and starts gathering their bedding. Anxiety builds inside her, but she pushes the thoughts away. Just a few months, she tells herself, and Margaret will find somewhere else.
But Margaret seems determined to test Natalies patience. Every morning she launches a new complaint, spilling out like a neverending stream.
Youve overcooked the porridge, she says, frowning at her bowl. It should be fluffier. Add more milk, a pinch more sugar.
Natalie grits her teeth, swallowing her breakfast in silence. Its her husbands mother; she must endure. She repeats that mantra to herself.
One evening Margaret flips through a magazine, then, without looking up, asks, Are you still working as a marketer? Thats a strange job. A accountant or a teacher makes sense, theyre useful. What do you even do?
Natalie answers calmly, I develop promotional strategies, help companies increase sales, attract customers.
Margaret smirks. Well, as long as theres some use to it.
Natalie clenches her fists under the table until her nails dig into her palms, whispering again, Just a few months, shell move out. Hold on.
When rent is due, Max drops his eyes and murmurs apologetically, Natalie, I cant pay my share this month. I gave my whole salary to Mum; she needs the money more.
Natalie freezes, slowly putting her phone down. She sold the cottage, didnt she?
Max stares at the floor, avoiding her gaze. She doesnt want to spend it. Its earmarked for her future home, you know?
Natalie nods silently and pays the full rent herself. Her salary covers it, but a heavy, unpleasant weight settles in her chest.
The next month proves even worse. Max contributes nothing. Food runs out twice as fast; Margaret eats a lot and selectively, constantly demanding pricier curd, yoghurts, or other items. Cleaning supplies vanish at a frightening rate.
Natalie buys everything herself, lugging heavy bags from the shop. Max never offers to help; hes busy looking after his mother, driving her everywhere.
At months end, the three of them sit down to dinner: Natalie, Max, and Margaret. A pot of stew bubbles on the stove, already critiqued by Margaret for lacking herbs and garlic.
Natalie puts down her spoon, draws a deep breath. Max, weve got to pay the rent tomorrow.
Maxs cheeks tighten; his jaw muscles twitch.
Theres no money.
Natalies anger rises. How can there be none? This is the second month, Max!
Margaret frowns. Why are you nagging him? Why are you demanding money?
And then Natalies patience snaps like an overstretched string.
Im demanding because Im tired of paying everything alone! she shouts, her voice cracking. Rent, utilities, groceries all on me! Three people live here, but Im the only one holding it together!
Margaret leaps up from her seat, her face flushing. You should understand my situation! Im in a hard spot!
You have money! Natalie retorts, rising. Buy a flat and live there! Stop leeching off us!
I need a proper flat, not a tiny room! Margarets anger turns scarlet. You and Max could take a loan and give me the shortfall! What does it cost? Youre young, healthy, you work!
Natalie freezes. The world tilts. She glances at Max, who stares at the floor, silent, not daring to contradict his mother.
Did you talk to Mum about this? she asks.
Max nods, still not looking up, not even trying to lie.
Everything falls into place like a puzzle finally completed. Theyve been waiting for the right moment to push her into a loan, to make her not only foot the bills but also fall into debt for a mother who never thanks them.
Natalie stands slowly from the table. Ive had enough!
She begins stuffing her belongings into a bag, fire blazing inside her, yet she keeps filling it.
Max rushes after her, tries to grab her wrist. Natalie, wait. We need to talk!
She pulls free. Let me go. I have nothing to discuss with you. Nothing at all.
You know Mum really needs help right now! Max pleads.
Natalie turns, looks at him so directly that he steps back a pace.
Your mum needs money! She doesnt care about me! And youre willing to ruin our future for her!
She slams the bag shut, grabs her coat, and heads for the door. Margaret stands in the doorway, triumphant, as if shed just won a prize.
Well, good luck getting out then, the motherinlaw sneers. Max needs a proper wife, not a selfish one.
Natalie walks past her without a reply, climbs the stairwell, and takes a deep breath.
Her own mother meets her at the top, no questions asked, just a hug and a gentle push toward her bedroom.
Rest, love, she whispers. Well talk tomorrow if you want.
The next day Natalie files for divorce. Max calls, texts, begs her to come back, promising everything will change, that Margaret will move out, that he finally understands.
But Natalie sees the truth: theres no future with this man. He chose his mother and her endless demands over her, over their family.
The divorce goes through quickly. In the final hearing Max looks exhausted, whispers, Im sorry.
Natalie nods silently and walks out of the courtroom. She steps onto the street and feels a lightness she hasnt felt in months, as if a heavy load has finally been lifted.
She is free from Max and from his mother. And now she can start a new life for herself, not for anyone else.
