«Go back to your mother,» the husband commanded, shoving the suitcases out the door.
«Mum, stop calling him,» Eleanor set her teacup down with a thud and sighed. «Peters at workhes in a meeting.»
«A meeting, sure,» Antonia pursed her lips. «I know all about these meetings. Like yesterday, when he rolled in at midnight? You could smell the whisky on him from a mile off.»
Eleanor rubbed her temples. Ever since she and Peter had moved in with her mother, every morning began like this. Temporarily, just for a few months while their flat was being renovatedthat was the plan. But the second month was nearly over, and the repairs showed no sign of ending.
«Mum, please,» Eleanor kept her voice steady. «You promised not to interfere.»
«Im not interfering,» Antonia set her phone aside. «Im just worried. You work yourself to the bone while hes out gallivanting. What kind of man is that?»
«A good one,» Eleanor stood up. «And hes not gallivanting. He had an important client dinner. I explained that.»
Antonia scoffed but didnt argue. Eleanor knew that lookher mother didnt believe a word.
«Im heading to work,» Eleanor said, grabbing her bag. «Ill be back by eight.»
«What about lunch? I made soup.»
«No time, Mum. Meeting at one, then a client.»
«You never eat,» Antonia shook her head. «No wonder youre not pregnant. Hows a baby supposed to grow on an empty stomach?»
Eleanor exhaled. The topic of children was raw, but her mother brought it up with relentless regularity. Five years married, no grandchildren. A disgrace.
«See you tonight,» Eleanor kissed her mothers cheek. «Peter said hed be home earlywell eat together.»
«If he comes home at all,» Antonia muttered.
Eleanor shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall. The hallway smelled of damp and catsthe scent of her childhood. Once comforting, now it just grated.
In the car, she called Peter first.
«Pete, did Mum ring you again?»
«Three times,» he sounded exhausted. «I didnt answer.»
«Sorry. She worries.»
«Worries?» Peter gave a dry laugh. «She monitors my every move. Last night was an inquisitionwhere was I, who was I drinking with, why so late? Im not a teenager, Ellie!»
«I know,» she started the engine. «Just a little longer. The contractor promised the bathroom would be done this week, then just the kitchen left. Well be home soon.»
Peter went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow.
«What if I dont want to go back?»
«What do you mean?»
«Never mind. See you at work.»
He hung up. Eleanor stared at her phone, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. What did he mean? Didnt want to return to their flat? Ordidnt want to return to her?
Work dragged unbearably. She couldnt focus, fumbling numbers in meetings, forgetting key contract details with clients. Peter was gone all daya site visit, back only by evening.
She arrived home past nine, delayed by correcting her mistakes. The flat was silent except for the muffled telly from the kitchen.
«Im home!» she called, kicking off her shoes.
No answer. Oddusually her mother would fuss, asking about her day. Eleanor walked in and froze.
Peter and Antonia sat at the table, tension crackling between them. Antonia stared at the telly, pointedly ignoring him. Peter twisted a cold teacup in his hands.
«Whats going on?» Eleanor asked.
Peter looked up. His eyes were ice.
«Ask your mother,» he said. «Shes been tearing into me for the past half-hour.»
«Antonia, what happened?»
Her mother sniffed.
«Nothing. Just told your husband a few home truths. That hes not a real mancant even provide properly. Living off his mother-in-law because his own place isnt fit.»
«Mum!» Eleanor gasped. «We *have* our own place!»
«A one-bed shoebox in some soulless block,» Antonia waved a hand. «In my day, men built homes. Fed families. And him? Some middle manager…»
«Im a project lead,» Peter ground out. «And I earn enough. Were only here because of the renovation.»
«Five years and whats to show?» Antonia barrelled on. «No kids, no proper home. His wife works like a dog while he»
«Mum, enough!» Eleanor raised her voice. «We agreedno pressure, no baby talk!»
Antonia pressed her lips together.
«I only want whats best. My girls thirty-twotimes ticking.»
Eleanor sat beside Peter, took his hand. He didnt pull awaybut didnt squeeze back.
«Pete, Im sorry. She just worries.»
«Worries?» He laughed bitterly. «She thinks Im worthless. Always has.»
Eleanor said nothing. What could she say? Her mother *had* opposed their marriage. *»No prospects,»* shed said. *»No money, no connections. Five years youngerstill a boy.»*
«Go to bed,» Antonia grumbled, standing. «Ive got my blood pressure check early.»
She shuffled off, slamming her door. Alone, Peter pulled Eleanor close.
«I love you,» he whispered. «But I cant stay here. Shes driving me mad.»
«Me too,» Eleanor admitted. «I just realised it.»
They lay in silence, listening to Antonias restless pacingclattering dishes, the telly flicking on and off.
Morning came. Peter had already left. At the kitchen table, Antonia stared into untouched tea.
«Morning,» Eleanor said.
«Morning.» Antonia didnt look up. «Hes gone. Said hed fetch you and your things tonight.»
Eleanor sat opposite.
«Mum, Im not abandoning you. Well visit, call»
«Of course,» Antonia smirked. «Every weekend at first, then monthly, then just holidays. I know how this goes.»
«I love you,» Eleanor took her hand. «But I love him too. I need to be with him.»
«Choosing him over me,» Antonia said flatly. «Youll regret it.»
Eleanor exhaled. Same script, same guilt.
Work was a blur. Peter texted their new addressa bright two-bed with a spacious kitchen. The photos brought no joy, only dread.
She returned early to pack. Her suitcases were already by the door.
«Mum?»
Antonia emerged, eyes red.
«Packed for you. If youve forgotten anything, fetch it later.»
«Why?» Eleanor whispered.
«What else could I do?» Antonia shrugged. «Youve made your choice. Take your things and go.»
Eleanor stepped closer.
«Im not leaving forever. Well visit»
«Go back to your mother,» Peters voice cut in. He stood in the doorway, glaring at Antonia.
«Pete, what?»
«Go back,» he repeated coldly. «If shes packed your bags, its decided.»
«Nothings decided! Mum was just helping»
«Helping?» Peter laughed harshly. «Shes throwing you out. Your bags are at the door. Thats get out.»
Antonia burst into tears, dramatic, clutching her face. Eleanor rushed to her.
«Mum, stop! Im not going anywhere!»
«Go to him,» Antonia wailed. «Leave me. I understand. You dont need me.»
Eleanor held her, glanced at Peter. His face was stone.
«Choose, Ellie,» he said quietly. «Come with me, or stay. But if you stay, its for good. I wont play these games anymore.»
«What games?»
«She manipulates you,» Peter nodded at Antonia. «Always has. And you let her. You will, as long as youre under her roof.»
Antonia lifted her tear-streaked face.
«See, darling? See what hes like? Wants to take you from me.»
Eleanor looked between themher mother, her husband. For the first time, she didnt know.
«I cant decide now,» she whispered.
«Theres no time,» Peter said. «Ive paid the rent. We go tonight, or I go alone. Forever.»
«Dont give ultimatums in *my* house,» Antonia snapped. «Shes *my* daughter! Mine! Hers to decide, not yours!»
«Shes my wife,» Peter said coldly. «Ill fight for my family.»
Eleanor stepped back, inhaled. One clear thought pierced the fog: this would never end. Stay, and her mother would rule her life. Leave, and Peter would never accept Antonia.
«Im staying,» she said softly.
Peter flinched like shed struck him.
«What?»
«Im staying,» she repeated. «Mums alone. She needs me. We can… wait. Until the renovations done.»
Antonia smirked at Peter.
«See? A daughter chooses her mother.»
«Go back to her,» Peter shoved the suitcases onto the landing. «Live with her, if she matters more than us. But dont expect me to wait.»
He left. Eleanor moved to follow, but Antonia gripped her arm.
«Let him go. Hell cool off. If notgood riddance. Weve managed without him before.»
Eleanor stared at the closed door, her world crumbling. The choice was made. Right or wrongtime would tell.
Two weeks later, divorce papers arrived. Eleanor signed without reading. Antonia said nothing, lips pressed tight.
The renovation finished a month later. The flat stood emptyEleanor couldnt bear to enter. She rented it out.
She found a new job, far from Peters workplace. Started going outcinema, theatre. Sometimes even with Antonia, whod softened strangely, as if afraid of losing her completely.
Some nights, Eleanor cried, wonderingwhat if shed chosen differently? Gone with him? Would they have been happy?
But life doesnt deal in what ifs. The road was chosen. She walked it, day by day, learning to live without him. Learning not to blame her mother, or Peter, or herself.
What came nextonly time would tell.
