**Diary Entry**
*Friday, 10th May*
When can we move into your new house? the in-laws asked point-blank.
Pardon? Emma tensed up.
Well, since youve finished everything, we assumed youd invite us soon, Robert chuckled.
Oliver, do you *see* how out of line this is? Emma couldnt hold back, especially since her husband was pretending not to understand why she was so worked up.
Or maybe theyd planned it all alonglet her pour years of her life and every penny shed saved into this house, only to push her out now.
Unlike their peers, who scrambled for overpriced London flats, Emma and Oliver had decided early on to build their own home in the countryside. It was cheaper, quicker, and far more practicalwhy settle for 30 square metres when you could have 130 for the same price?
Plenty of space for children *and* pets, Emma had said excitedly.
Thankfully, they already had the landa plot bequeathed by Emmas Aunt Margaret, whod transferred it after hearing of their plans. Never gave you a proper wedding gift, shed said. Thisll do nicely. Better than it sitting unused for twenty years.
Still, it wasnt easy. To save money, theyd taken on much of the work themselvesweekends, evenings, even in miserable weather. Emma had even dipped into her inheritance from her grandmothers flat sale, pouring it all into the build.
But when the house was finally liveable, every late night and aching muscle felt worth it.
True, it wasnt *finished*trimwork, paint, details remainedbut having a proper roof over their heads was euphoric. Theyd already begun hosting friends, though Emma couldnt shake one bitterness: Olivers parents hadnt lifted a finger to help. Not with the fence, not with planting the hedges, not even delivering the fridgedespite owning a rugged 4×4 *perfect* for hauling.
Theyre retired! What could possibly keep them so busy? Emma muttered.
Doubt theyd lie, Oliver shrugged.
She told herself they *were* just busy, that timing was offbut the worm of doubt gnawed anyway.
Em, the tellys arriving today. Can you be here? Oliver called over breakfast.
Of course. What time?
Between three and eight. Theyll ring an hour before.
Around four, a knock came. Oddno call.
She opened the door to Olivers parents, Robert and Margaret, beaming.
Oh! Emma blinked. Iwasnt expecting you.
Hello, dear! Arent you going to invite us in? Margaret trilled.
They breezed past her into the open-plan kitchen-living area, gazing around.
Lovely! Robert grinned. So much better than a poky flat. *Proper* space for everyone!
Emma nodded warily.
Thenthe question. So, when do we move in?
*Move in?*
Well, now its done, we assumed youd have us, Robert said, as if stating the obvious.
Emmas stomach dropped. We didnt design this house for four people.
Oh, we dont need much! Just a room! Margaret laughed.
Were renting out our placeextra pension money, Robert added brightly.
Emmas nails dug into her palms. Did you discuss this with Oliver?
Not yet, but he wont mind.
The sheer *audacity*. Theyd ignored every plea for help, and nowwhat? Expected a free ride *and* profit?
Robert huffed. Not even offered tea?
She forced a smile and put the kettle on.
As they lounged at the table, the delivery driver rangapologising for forgetting to calljust as the lorry pulled up.
The massive telly was hauled inside.
Blimey, thats huge! Robert whistled. Wheres it going?
Emma pointed to the empty wall.
Brilliant! Well watch the news here evenings.
Actually, were not installing an aerial.
What? Just stare at a blank screen?
Streaming, films. No one watches live telly anymorewell, except She bit her tongue.
*Us*, apparently! Margaret cackled. Ill have Oliver sort an aerial.
Emma counted the minutes until Olivers return.
The moment his car crunched on the gravel, she flew to the door.
Your parents are here, she hissed. They want to *live* with us.
*What?*
Robert clapped him on the back. Fine house youve built, son!
Hardly a palace. Once we have kids, spacell vanish.
Nonsense! Youve two spare rooms upstairs! Margaret cut in.
One nursery, one guest room. We host friends often.
We *loathe* noise, Robert said pointedly.
Olivers jaw tightened. Youre *not* moving in.
Oliver! Margaret gasped. No room for your own parents?
Was there room in your schedule to help *us*? Not even with the *fridge*? Now you want to *profit* off our home? No.
A frosty silence. Then
Come, Margaret, Robert muttered.
The moment the door shut, Emma threw her arms around Oliver.
Thank you. I was terrified youd side with them.
Why would I? Youve been hurt every time they brushed you off. He kissed her forehead. Nowdinner?
**Lesson Learnt:** *Blood doesnt entitle anyone to your labouror your home. They ate in quiet triumph, the weight of the day softening with each bite. Later, as they sipped wine by the unlit fireplace, Emma watched the shadows dance on the walls theyd built together. For the first time, the house felt truly theirsnot just a structure, but a boundary, a promise kept. Outside, the wind rustled the newly planted hedges, and somewhere down the lane, taillights faded into the dark.
