«I’ll come in whenever I likeI have the keys,» my mother-in-law declared before barging into our bedroom at five in the morning.
The scrape of the lock made me freeze, a damp cloth still in my hand. Id been scrubbing a sticky jam staincourtesy of Ireneand recognized the sound instantly.
Paul was still asleep. Sunday, half past eight.
The door swung open, and there she stood. In one hand, a string bag filled with something green; in the other, the leash of her trembling little dog.
«Laura, still in bed?» she chirped, stepping inside. «Ive brought you some fresh dill from my garden.»
I straightened, tension coiling in my back.
«Good morning, Irene. We *were* asleep. Or rather, Paul was.»
She ignored me and floated toward the kitchen. The dog let out a yap before scampering after her.
«I was quiet! Whats the fuss? I was at the market and thought Id drop it off. Better than that shop rubbish full of nitrates.»
I followed, watching my one lazy morning of the week crumble.
«You couldve called. Wed have come down.»
Irene turned, her gaze sharp and assessing, sweeping over my worn T-shirt, bare feet, and tangled hair.
«Dont be silly, dear. Why should you come down? I have keys.»
She said it like shed bestowed some great blessingas if those keys werent to *my* flat but to the pearly gates themselves.
That evening, I finally mustered the courage. Paul was sprawled on the sofa, half-watching some series, absently scratching his stomach.
«Paul, we need to talk about your mum.»
He sighed, eyes still glued to the screen.
«Not this again, Laura. She just brought some dill.»
«She walked into our flat at half eight on a Sunday without knocking. Used *her* keys. Thats not normal.»
«Whats the big deal? Shes family.»
I sat beside him, snatched the remote, and switched off the telly. The sudden silence made my next words louder.
«Paul, this is *our* home. I want to walk around naked if I fancy. I dont want to wake up to the sound of a lock turning.»
«Oh, dramatic much?» He rolled his eyes. «Mums just looking out for us.»
«Then she can leave the looking out *outside*. Or at least ring first. Lets ask for the keys back.»
He jerked upright as if scalded.
«Are you mad? Take Mums keys? Thats bloody cruel! Shes given me everything, and you want to shut her out?»
«Shes shutting *us* out!» I snapped.
He stared at me like Id suggested robbing a bank. Fear and bewilderment swam in his eyes. To him, his mum with keys was as natural as the sun rising.
A week later, light flooded the bedroom.
Five in the morning.
There stood Irene in a raincoat thrown over her nightdress, squinting in the glare, clutching Pauls phone.
«Paul, love, you forgot this,» she whispered conspiratorially. «Saw it on the side when you left. Couldnt have you at work with no way to call.»
I pulled the duvet to my chin, heart hammering. Paul mumbled and rolled over.
Ignoring me, she tiptoed to his side, placed the phone on the nightstand, then scanned the room with a critical eye.
«Goodness, its dusty in here, Laura. You ought to wipe down.»
With that, she left. The front door clicked shut.
I sat under the harsh light, staring at my sleeping husband. He hadnt even stirred. He didnt grasp what had happenedthat a line hadnt just been crossed but erased.
When he finally woke and I calmly recounted the intrusion, he waved it off.
«Laura, she meant well. Was worried about me.»
«Paul, she walked into our *bedroom* at five AM.»
«So? She wasnt naked. Shes *family*.»
That same day, I rang her myself. My hands shook, but resolve outweighed fear.
«Irene, hello. I wanted to talk about this morning.»
«Yes, dear?» Not a flicker of guilt.
«Please dont come in unannounced. Especially that early. Especially to our bedroom.»
Silence. Then, icy and indignant:
«Darling, I dont follow. I raised my boy, put my life savings into this flat. Remember this: Ill come when I pleaseIve got the keys.»
The line went dead.
Paul had heard every word. He looked away.
«Nothing to say?» I asked when the dial tone became unbearable.
He shrugged, studying the wallpaper.
«What dyou want from me? You provoked her. Of course she reacted like that.»
«Provoked her? By asking her not to barge into my bedroom?»
«You couldve been gentler,» he muttered, finally meeting my eyesno support there, just weariness. «Youre never happy. Mum tries, and you»
I walked out, shutting the door firmly behind me.
That night, a wall went up between us. He didnt apologise, didnt try to talk. Just slept on the sofa, sighing loudly.
Peace came. Irene stayed away for a week. Yet her presence lingeredin Pauls stiff lips when I suggested outings, in his hushed phone calls («Just Mum»).
I felt like a stranger in my own home.
By Wednesday, Id caught a cold. Throat on fire, head splitting. I took a sick day and sank into a lavender-scented bath, hoping steam would chase the ache.
Dozing off, I heard itthe scrape of a key.
I froze. Heart plummeting. Paul? No, he wouldnt be back for hours.
The door creaked open. Rustling. A familiar yap.
«Lets see how Lauras keeping house, Jeeves,» Irene sang. «Probably dust everywhere.»
I sat motionless, water turning cold. She was feet away, rifling through the fridge, tutting.
«Knew it. Barely a crumb. Poor Paul must be starving.»
She was inches from the bathroom door. The vulnerability was suffocating.
When her footsteps moved to the kitchen, I slipped out, wrapped in a robe, and stepped into the hall.
Irene was examining my bookshelf.
«Oh, youre home?» No hint of shame. «Brought you chicken broth. Paul said you were poorly.»
She gestured to a jar on the coffee table.
«Thank you, but I asked you to call first,» I rasped.
«Dont be silly! Im *family*! Who else will look after you? Pauls at work, and here you are, sick and alone.»
She reached for my forehead. I recoiled.
«Dont.»
That evening, I was ready when Paul returned. I laid it all outthe fear, the humiliation, the mocking jar of broth.
He listened silently. Then:
«Laura, I dont get you. Mum brought soup. She *cares*. You always see the worst. Maybe the problem isnt herits you.»
I lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling while he snored beside me. My supposed protector had chosen his side.
So I chose mine.
Next morning, once Paul left, I googled «24-hour locksmith» and hit *call*.
The burly man arrived within the hour, drilling out the old lock with a sound like music to my ears. When he handed me two shiny new keys, they felt like freedom.
That evening, Paul dumped his briefcase on a chair.
«Hi.»
«Hi.» I held out a key. «This is yours. I changed the locks.»
His face darkened.
«You *what*?»
«I decided. No one walks into *our* home uninvited. *No one*.»
He exploded.
«You went behind my back? Youve *locked out my mother*?»
«Ive protected our family. Our home.»
«Youve *torpedoed* it! What do I tell her?!»
«The truth. That her sons a grown man with his own life.»
We shouted until, suddenlya sound.
The scrape of a key. Failed. Again. Then furious banging.
«Paul! Laura! Open up! Whats wrong with the door?!»
Paul paled. Looked at me, then the door where his mother raged.
The banging intensified.
«I *know* youre in there! Laura, this is *your* doing!»
Paul exhaled, turned the new lock, and opened the door.
Irene stormed in, wild-eyed, finger jabbing at me.
«How *dare* you?! Youve shut me out! After all Ive»
«Mum.» Pauls voice was steel.
She gaped.
«What? Cant you see what shes»
«I see my wife had to do this because no one listened. Least of all *me*.»
He turned to her.
«This is *our* home. Mine and Lauras. You *never* walk in uninvited again. Understood?»
Irenes mouth worked soundlessly.
«Paul, darling»
«No. Im a grown man. I decide who comes into my home. Now *leave*.»
He shut the door behind her, then turned to me, eyes glistening.
«Forgive me,» he whispered. «I was blind.»
He pulled me into his arms, and I knewId won. Not just the locks. Id won back my husband. Our family.
Boundaries arent wallstheyre the foundations of respect. And sometimes, changing a lock changes everything. I slipped the new key into my pocket, the metal warm against my fingers. The silence that followed wasnt tenseit was peaceful, deep, like the quiet after a storm. Paul made tea without being asked, his movements slower, surer, like he was relearning me. That night, we ate on the sofa, no TV, just talkreal talkand when he kissed my forehead before bed, it felt like a promise. The next morning, I left the bedroom door open. Not because I had to, but because I could.
