**Diary Entry 12th October**
«Dont you dare dress like that under my roof,» my mother-in-law hissed just as the guests arrived.
«Emily, have you seen my reading glasses? I think I left them on the side table,» Margaret called out, stepping into the kitchen where my wife was putting the finishing touches to the roast.
«Theyre in the case, Margaret. I tidied the lounge earlier and put them there,» Emily replied without looking up from slicing vegetables, each piece cut with care.
Margaret pursed her lips but said nothing. In her mind, no one should touch her thingsnot even with good intentions. Especially not her things. But she held back; today was important, and unnecessary conflict wouldnt do.
Thirty years ago today, Margaret had moved into this grand Victorian househigh ceilings, antique furniture passed down from her own mother-in-law. Every corner bore her touch, every item had its rightful place. Though legally it now belonged to my husband James, she still ruled it like a queen.
Emily had only lived here two years. To Margaret, our marriage had been a shockJames bringing home a woman hed known barely three months. Clever, university-educated, with what Margaret called «far too modern» ideas.
«The roast is nearly ready,» Emily said, arranging it on the serving platter. «I just need to change before everyone gets here.»
«I hope youre not planning to wear that red dress,» Margaret remarked casually, adjusting her perfectly coiffed silver hair.
Emily paused, then met her mother-in-laws gaze.
«Thats exactly what I was planning to wear. James picked it out for our anniversary.»
«Its hardly suitable for a family dinner,» Margaret countered. «Far too… revealing. What about that lovely navy dress I gave you at Christmas?»
Emily exhaled. That dressprim, almost schoolgirl-likehad been worn once, out of obligation. Since then, it had languished at the back of the wardrobe.
«Margaret, at thirty-two, I think I can decide what to wear,» she said, firm but polite.
«Of course,» Margaret forced a smile. «Just remember, my friends are from a different generation. They have certain standards.»
Without waiting for a reply, she left, the unspoken words thickening the air.
Upstairs, James was buttoning his shirt. «All set for the grand occasion?» he teased.
«Almost,» Emily said, pulling out the red dress. «Your mothers already commenting on my outfit.»
James sighed. «Ignore her. Shes just worried about making a good impression.»
«On *us* or just me?» Emily studied the dresselegant, with a modest neckline and slight slit. Nothing scandalous.
«Not today, love,» he murmured, hugging her. «Thirty years here means everything to her.»
«And self-respect means something to me.»
James hesitated. «Wear what you like. Youre stunning in anything.»
The guests arrived at six. First came Margarets old colleagues, then Mrs. Whitaker from next doorsharp-eyed, sharper-tongued. The house filled with laughter, but tension simmered beneath.
In the kitchen, Margaret cornered Emily. «Must you flaunt yourself like this?» she whispered furiously.
«Its just a dress,» Emily said, bewildered.
«Youre mocking me in front of my friends!»
James appeared, his expression dark. «Mum, enough.»
«This is *my* house!»
«No. Its *ours*. And we all deserve to feel at home.»
Silence. Then, grudgingly: «Perhaps I… overreacted.»
«Times change,» Emily said softly. «But kindness never goes out of style.»
Later, as the last guestMrs. Whitakerlingered, she smirked. «Fifty years Ive known you, Margaret. Never heard you apologise. First time for everything, eh?»
Back in the lounge, we cleared the table. «Leave it,» Margaret saidunheard of.
«But you always insist»
«Rules are meant to be bent,» she said, smiling at Emily. «Especially if it makes us happier.»
And then, impossibly: «That red dress… do you think it comes in blue? Might suit me.»
We laughedreally laughedfor the first time in years.
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes, the hardest walls to break are the ones we build ourselves. And an apology, however small, can lay the first brick of a truce.
