Dear Diary,
Either your mother moves out, or we get a divorce, I warned Emily after yet another of her mothers antics.
How much longer can we wait? Well be late! Emily glanced anxiously at the clock, shifting from foot to foot in the hallway.
Im ready, just need to fix my tie, called Andrew from the bedroom. Wed have left already if you hadnt changed your outfit three times.
Dont start with me! Emily snapped, irritation in her voice. I want to look presentable at your company dinner, not like a drab mouse.
Andrew appeared in the doorway, tightening the knot of his tie. At fortyfive, he still kept a trim figure, though a few strands of silver were already showing at his temples.
You always look great, he said more gently. Especially when youre not nervous.
Emily opened her mouth to reply, but just then Margaret, Emilys mother, stepped out of the kitchen with a mug of tea.
Where are you two all dressed up for? she asked, casting an appraising look over them.
Its Andrews corporate dinner, Mum. I mentioned it this morning, Emily adjusted her earrings.
Oh right, Id forgotten, Margaret sipped her tea. Why so late? Its already nine.
Were in a hurry, Andrew tried to stay calm, though his nerves were flaring. Emily, should we take a taxi? Or will you drive?
A taxi, please. Id rather you relax as well, Emily said, pulling out her phone.
Thats sensible, Margaret interjected. Men always want a drink first, but when it comes to responsibility they hide in the bushes.
Andrew clenched his teeth and counted to ten. Every comment from his motherinlaw sounded like an accusation, even when it was about the weather.
Mum, please, Emily whispered, casting an apologetic glance at me.
Fine, Ill be quiet, Margaret retreated to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar to eavesdrop.
The taxi will be here in five minutes, Emily announced, slipping her phone into her evening bag.
Right, I took my jacket. Did you grab the keys?
Yes, all set.
Margaret reappeared from the kitchen.
When will you be back? Should I lock the door for the night?
Dont lock it, Mum. We have our own keys.
What if you lose them? Or drink too much? she eyed me skeptically.
We wont lose the keys, I cut in. I know my limits.
Everyone says that, then
A knock at the door halted the budding argument. The taxi arrived, and I exhaled with relief. Another evening without more of Margarets commentary.
Dont stay out too late! she called after us.
In the cab, Emily squeezed my hand.
Sorry about my mum. She just worries.
Its alright, I replied, watching the dark streets pass by. Sometimes I imagined slipping into that crowd, free of the feeling that every step was being judged.
Three months ago Margaret moved in after Emilys father passed away. It was supposed to be temporary, until she adjusted to life without him. Yet the temporary solution turned into a permanent one, and our threebedroom flat began to feel like a cramped cage.
The corporate dinner was held in a restaurant in central London. The décor was elegant, live music played, colleagues in festive attireall set the scene for a pleasant evening. I gradually relaxed, chatting with coworkers and their partners. Emily shone in her dark blue dress, turning heads wherever she went.
You have a wonderful wife, said Victor Sinclair, the company director, as we stood near the bar. A true lady.
Thank you, I replied proudly, watching Emily laugh with Victors wife. Im lucky.
How long have you been married?
Fifteen years this April.
Impressive, Victor nodded. Do you have children?
No, I shook my head. It just never happened.
That was a sore spot. Emily and I had tried for years, endured countless tests and treatments. Doctors eventually shrugged, saying everything was fine and we just needed to wait. In the end Emily decided we were happy as we were.
The evening went on. I had a couple of glasses of wine, no moreI always know my limit, despite Margarets opinions. By eleven I was ready to head home.
Shall we stay a bit longer? Emily suggested, noticing the band start to play.
Lets give it another half hour, then well leave. Tomorrows a workday, I agreed.
She smiled and pulled me onto the dance floor. We swayed to a slow tune, just as we used to in our youth. I held her close, inhaling the faint scent of her perfume, thinking that perhaps it wasnt all so bad. A motherinlaw, after all, is just another person under the same roof.
We got back around midnight. The flat was still lit, though we hoped Margaret was already asleep.
They finally showed up, Margarets voice announced as we crossed the threshold. I thought Id have to call the police.
Come on, Mum, it was just a dinner, Emily sighed, exhausted. People dont stay out that late these days.
In my day respectable folk werent out that late, Margaret pursed her lips. And youre still bringing home booze, Andrew.
Ive only had two glasses of wine all night, I tried to stay composed.
Everyone says that, she retorted.
Mom, were tired, Emily interjected. Lets talk tomorrow.
Of course, of course, Margaret sighed dramatically. Im nobody here, my opinions dont matter.
I slipped into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away the frustration and fatigue. Fifteen years of marriage and Id never felt such tension. When I returned to the bedroom, Emily was already in bed.
Dont mind Mum, she whispered. Shes struggling after her husbands death.
I know, I lay beside her. But this has been going on for three months. We cant even have a normal conversation without her hovering, commenting on everything.
Give her time, Emily stroked my arm. Shell adjust.
I wanted to tell her that I was scared to get used to constant criticism, to having to justify every move, to losing any personal space. I stayed silent. Emily drifted to sleep, and I faced another grueling workday.
Morning began with the smell of fried fishsomething Ive loathed since childhood, and Margaret knew all too well.
Morning, she grumbled, wiping a plate. Breakfast is almost ready.
Thanks, but Ill grab a sandwich at work, I poured coffee, hurrying.
Always the same, she sighed theatrically. My cooking is never good enough for the head of the firm.
Its not about the food, I said, taking a sip. Im in a rush.
And Emily will have breakfast at home, like a proper wife, Margaret placed a sizable portion of fish on her plate. Not like some people who are always galloping about.
I finished my coffee and left the kitchen. In the hallway I found Emily halfasleep.
Leaving already? she asked, surprised.
Yes, a lot to do, I kissed her cheek. Your mum made fish.
Again, she grimaced. Ill speak to her later.
No need, I replied, weary. It wont change anything.
The workday dragged on. I couldnt focus on projects, my mind kept drifting back to home. At lunch Emily called.
Hey, hows it going? her voice was tense.
Fine, just working. Whats up?
Mum was going through my things in the wardrobe. Said she was tidying up. I told her you dont like anyone touching your stuff, and she got upset.
Emily, Im fed up, I snapped. Why does she think she can run our house?
Shes just trying to help, youd say. Shes always busy, needs something to do.
Let her mind her own business! I raised my voice, then realised colleagues could hear. Ill call back later.
I stared out the window, wondering if we should have asked her to move back to her own flat. Shed sold hers shortly after her husband died, saying the memories were too much. Now we had nowhere to send her.
That evening I stayed late at the office, avoiding the flat. When I finally got back, Emily met me with a guilty look.
What happened? I asked, taking off my shoes.
Mum accidentally broke your model plane, she whispered. The one you brought back from Germany.
I froze. The rare Messerschmitt Id spent months restoring lay shattered on the floor.
Accidentally? I asked, disbelief rising.
Yes, she was vacuuming, caught the wardrobe, and the model fell.
Why was she vacuuming in my study? Anger surged. We agreed that was offlimits!
She wanted to be nice, Emily said, eyes downcast. She knew Id be late and thought cleaning would help.
Where is she now?
Shes at the neighbours, said shed return when I calm down.
I walked into the study. The broken wings and split fuselage stared back at me. Months of meticulous work reduced to splinters.
This is the last straw, I muttered softly.
Andrew, please, Emily pleaded from behind. She didnt mean it.
Its not about the plane, I turned to her. Its that your mother doesnt respect our space, our rules, our relationship. She constantly interferes.
Shes only worried about us, Emily defended, but her voice lacked its usual confidence.
No, shes not worried. Shes controlling. I cant live like this any longer.
What do you mean? Emilys eyes widened with fear.
Either your mother moves out, or we divorce, I said, the ultimatum hanging heavy in the room. Im serious. Im at my limit.
Emily recoiled as if struck.
You cant be serious! Throw out your own mother?
Im not talking about throwing her out. She could rent a flat nearby. Wed help financially, visit often. But living under the same roof is impossible for me.
What if I choose my mum? she asked quietly.
Then well have to part ways, I answered, equally quietly. Fifteen years Ive put you first, but the past three months I feel like a guest in my own home.
Tears streamed down Emilys face.
This isnt fair! Mum is alone, she needs support!
And I need my wife, my home, a place where I can unwind without anticipating another comment or intrusion.
Just then the front door slammed Margaret had returned. Hearing our voices, she strode in.
Well, here we are, she began, wiping her hands on a napkin. Probably already said nasty things about me to Emily? I, by the way, meant well. And that dusty toy of yours was already gathering cobwebs, no use anyway.
Mum! Emily cried. Not now, please.
When? Margaret shot back. When will your husband finally listen to the truth? Oh, he
Enough, I interrupted, surprised at my own calm. Margaret, lets sit and talk like adults.
She fell silent, taken aback. We moved to the sitting room and took places: me in an armchair, Emily and her mother on the sofa.
I understand your situation, I started. Losing a partner after so many years is hard. But you also need to understand us. Emily and I have built a life together for fifteen years, and now that life is under threat.
Its because of me? Margaret sneered.
Yes, I said plainly. The constant monitoring, the remarks, the interference. I feel like a stranger in my own house.
Its my house now too, she replied stubbornly.
Thats exactly what I wanted to discuss, I continued, keeping my tone steady. I think it would be better for you to live separately.
Youre evicting my daughters mother? Margaret flared. Thats absurd!
No one is being evicted onto the street, I explained patiently. We can help you find a flat nearby, visit, and support you financially.
And if I refuse? she crossed her arms.
Then, Im afraid Emily and I wont be able to live together, I said, looking at my wife. Ive already told her this.
Youre blackmailing us! Margaret shouted. Emily, youre letting this happen?
Emilys face was wet with tears. I dont know what to do, Mum. I love you both. But Andrew is rightthese months have been hard for everyone.
So you want me to leave? Margaret asked, hurt evident in her voice.
I want us all to be happy, Emily whispered. Right now, nobody is happyneither you, nor Andrew, nor me.
Silence settled. Margaret glanced between her daughter and soninlaw as if seeing them for the first time.
I never thought it would get this bad, she finally admitted. I thought I was helping.
We appreciate your care, Andrew said gently. But sometimes care can become overbearing.
Margaret lowered her head. After your father died I was terrified of being alone, of the silence. I started meddling, trying to feel needed.
Emily wrapped an arm around her mother. We love you, Mum. Youll always be part of our lives. But perhaps Andrew is right. Maybe it would be better if you lived nearby but not under our roof?
Margaret was quiet for a long while, then sighed. Maybe youre right. I didnt want to admit it, but Ive overstepped. Its hard to accept that Im no longer the centre of my daughters world.
Youll always be important to us, Andrew said. But we must respect each others boundaries.
We talked at length about plans, about the future, about how to repair our relationships. For the first time in three months I felt heard. I began to see Margaret not as an enemy, but as a lonely woman frightened by emptiness.
The next day Emily found an advertisement for a onebedroom flat in the neighboring block. Andrew and I viewed it, paid the deposit, and helped Margaret move in a week later.
Are you still angry with me? Emily asked when we returned to our flat after the move.
For what? I replied, puzzled.
For the ultimatum. It was harsh.
Sometimes you have to be firm to protect what truly matters, I said, pulling her into a hug. I didnt want to lose you, but I couldnt continue like that.
You know, Emily mused, it might be for the best. Mum sounds almost happy now. She said shes joined a seniors club.
See? She needed her own life, not just to look after us.
We sat on our sofa in the quiet of our home, enjoying the peace. Emilys phone buzzed with a message from her mother, a photo of her new sitting room, bright with fresh flowers and framed pictures.
It looks like weve made it work, she smiled.
I nodded, feeling the tension of the past months melt away. Sometimes you have to push things to the edge to discover a new path. Sometimes you must risk everything to safeguard the things you cherish. And occasionally, even a hardwon ultimatum can lead to a happier ending for everyone.
Lesson: clear boundaries and honest communication are essential for a healthy family life.
