**Diary Entry**
I knew she resented me from the start, but today she made it clear. You took my son from me, and Ill take everything from you, she said. The venom in her voice still lingers in my ears.
Emily, why are you up so early? Margaret asked, peering from her bedroom door. Its half past six.
Ive got an early meeting, I replied, shoving papers into my bag. An unexpected team briefing.
Margaret shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers, clattering dishes. I tried slipping past, but no such luck.
What about breakfast? Will my boy go to work hungry?
Henrys a grown manhe can make his own breakfast, I muttered, pulling on my coat and hunting for my keys.
Is that so? Margaret turned sharply, arms crossed. In my day, wives knew their duties. They took care of their husbands.
I took a deep breath. This same conversation played out every morning since she moved in after her illness. Six months now, and still her constant scrutiny grated on me.
Margaret, Henry and I decide these things between us. Were equals in this marriage.
Equals? She scoffed. My boy never went hungry under my roof. Now look at himhes wasting away.
I bit my tongue. Arguing with her was like shouting into the wind.
Im running late. Henrys still asleepwake him at eight?
Oh, Ill wake him, dont you worry. I know *my* responsibilities, unlike some.
At work, I couldnt focus. My colleague Lucy noticed by lunch.
You look exhausted, she said, sliding into the chair beside me with her coffee. Still the mother-in-law?
Every single day. My cookings never right, the house isnt clean enough, I dont speak to Henry properly
And he doesnt defend you?
I gave a bitter laugh. Hardly. His mothers a saint to him. Shes been ill, shes anxiouswe must be patient.
So how much longer is she staying?
No idea. The doctors say shes fine to live alone, but Henrys terrified something will happen.
Lucy shook her head. Youre a saint, Em. I couldnt stand mine under the same roof.
By evening, I returned home starving. The flat smelled of roasted chicken and potatoes. Henry was on the sofa, plate in hand, glued to the telly.
Hey, love, he said absently. How was work?
Fine. Whats for dinner?
Mum made her famous roasttheres some left in the kitchen.
I walked in to find Margaret at the sink. Evening, Margaret.
Evening, she replied tersely, not turning.
I lifted the lid on the potone dry chicken breast and a spoonful of potatoes.
Thats *it*?
Oh, is that not enough? She finally faced me. I thought you were watching your weight. Always moaning about your jeans being tight.
Thats not moaningits just an observation.
Well, there you are. Im looking out for you.
I took my plate to the lounge. Henry was engrossed in a nature documentary.
Hen, can we talk?
Sure. Whats up?
Go look at what your mum left me for dinner.
He sighed but returned moments later. Seems fine?
Fine? I worked all dayIm starvingand this is what I get?
Mum! he called toward the kitchen. Why so little food?
Oh, darling, I thought Emily wasnt that hungry. Shes always talking about slimming down.
See? Henry turned to me. She meant well.
Something inside me snapped.
She does this *every night*, Henry. Leaves me scraps.
Dont be ridiculous. Mums kind-hearted.
To *you*. To me, Im just the hired help who doesnt measure up.
A loud sob came from the kitchen. Henry jumped up.
Now youve upset her! Shes *fragile*!
And Im not?
But he was already gone, comforting Margaret. I sat there, pushing cold chicken around my plate.
Later, he returned, sheepish.
Sorry, love. Mums just… emotional. Says she feels like a burden.
Good. She *is*.
Emily!
What? Were newlywedswere supposed to be building our life. Instead, were under constant surveillance.
Shes not spyingshe *cares*.
Cares? My voice cracked. She critiques *everything*how I wash clothes, cook, even how I speak to you!
Henry sat beside me. Just a bit longer, okay? Shell adjust. Then well find her a nice flat nearby.
When?
I dont know. But we will.
The next day, I left work early to cook. Bought groceries, hoped for peace. But when I opened the door, Margarets voice froze me in place.
…I understand your wifes young, Henry. But *my* patience isnt infinite.
Henry murmured something I couldnt catch.
A *good* girl? Margarets laugh was sharp. Look how thin youve gotten! And that temper of hersalways complaining.
Shes just tired
Tired? Prioritising *work* over home? Maybe you married too soon.
My stomach dropped. I stepped loudly into the kitchen, feigning ignorance.
Evening.
Oh! Emily, we didnt hear you! Margarets smile was glacial. How was work?
Fine. Thought Id cook tonight.
No needI made your *favourite*. She nudged Henry. Beef stew.
Dinner was strained. Henry chatted about work; Margaret fawned. I ate in silence.
Any weekend plans, Emily? Margaret asked sweetly.
Not really. Why?
I need Henry to drive me to the clinicsome tests.
Of course, Mum, Henry said.
Lovely. Wouldnt want to *interfere* with *Emilys* plans for you.
Her tone dripped mockery. Our eyes methers victorious.
I excused myself early, pleading a headache. Lying in bed, I knew: Margaret had declared war. And Henry didnt even see it.
He came in late, whispering, Head better?
Mmm.
Mums been… odd. Says our marriage might be a mistake.
My breath hitched. And you said?
That we love each other.
She *hates* me, Henry. Shes trying to break us up.
Dont be daft. Shes just protective.
Then watch her tomorrow. *Properly*.
He did. That evening, his face was grim.
You were right. She… kept bringing you up. Said I shouldnt have married you.
And?
I told her to stop. She cried. Said Id chosen you over her.
Emotional blackmail.
Shes *ill*, Emily
No. This is deliberate.
The next morning, their shouting woke me.
You dont *know* her like I do! Margaret screeched.
Mum, *enough*! Emilys my *wife*!
I stepped into the kitchen. Margaret whirled on me, eyes blazing.
You took my son. Now Ill take *everything* from you.
Henry paled. Mum!
What everything? I asked calmly.
Youll see. I know how to handle your sort.
Are you *threatening* me?
A warning. Leave now, or youll regret it.
Henry stood between us. Mum, what the *hell*?
But she stormed out, slamming the door.
Later, Lucy called. Emyour mother-in-law rang *my* mum. Asked about your pastif you drank, did drugs…
My blood ran cold.
That night, Margaret served Henry a full roast. My plate? A dry pile of couscous.
Watching your figure, she simpered.
As I cleared up, she hissed, Had a lovely chat with Sarah Wilkins today. She mentioned your… *wild* graduation party.
I stiffened. So?
Henry thinks he married an angel. Pity he doesnt know the *real* you.
Are you *blackmailing* me?
Leave him. Or Ill tell him *everything*.
Henry walked in, clueless. Girl talk?
Margaret beamed. Just bonding.
I lay awake, dread pooling in my chest. This wasnt just disapprovalit was a siege. And unless Henry opened his eyes, Id lose.
