Emily pulled her car up just a few houses down from her mother-in-laws. The clock read 5:45 PMshe was early, for once. Maybe this time shell actually appreciate my punctuality, she thought, smoothing out the creases in her new dress. The gifta vintage brooch shed spent months hunting down at antique fairswas carefully wrapped on the back seat.
As she approached the house, she noticed the downstairs window was slightly ajar. Her mother-in-laws voice drifted out, crisp as a biscuit:
Honestly, Margaret, can you believe it? She didnt even bother to ask what cake I like! Ordered some fancy dessert instead. Our Oliver always adored a classic Victoria sponge, and she a dramatic pause, doesnt even care. Seven years of marriage!
Emily froze. Her feet might as well have been glued to the pavement.
Of course, Ive told you beforeshes not right for Oliver. Always at that clinic of hers, day and night, never home. What sort of homemaker is that? I popped round yesterdaydirty dishes, dust on the mantelpiece. And her? Too busy with some complex procedure, apparently!
Everything inside Emily went still. She leaned against the garden fence, knees wobbling. For seven years, shed tried to be the perfect daughter-in-law: cooked, cleaned, remembered every birthday, visited when her mother-in-law had the sniffles. And for what?
No, I havent said a word, but reallyis that the sort of woman my son should be with? He needs a proper family, warmth, care And shes always at conferences or on night shifts. Doesnt even think about children! Can you imagine?
Emilys head throbbed. Mechanically, she pulled out her phone and dialled her husband.
Oliver? Ill be a bit late. Yes, everythings fine, just traffic.
She turned on her heel and marched back to the car. Sliding into the drivers seat, she stared blankly ahead. The words shed just heard echoed in her skull: Needs more salt, In my day, women stayed home, Oliver works so hard, he needs looking after
Her phone buzzeda text from Oliver: Mums asking where you are. Everyones here.
Emily took a deep breath. A strange smile crept onto her face. Right, she thought. If they want the perfect daughter-in-law, theyll get her.
She started the engine and swung the car around towards the house. The plan hatched itself in an instant.
No more trying to please. Time to show them what a proper daughter-in-law really looked like.
Emily swept into the house with her brightest, most terrifying smile. Darling Mummy! she trilled, embracing her mother-in-law with theatrical fervour. Forgive me for being lateI popped into three different shops to find those exact scented candles you adore!
Her mother-in-law stiffened, thrown by the sudden burst of affection. I thought she began, but Emily steamrolled on.
Oh, and guess who I bumped into on the way? Your dear friend Margaret! Such a lovely woman, always so honest, isnt she? Emily held her mother-in-laws gaze just a beat too long, watching the colour drain from her face.
Dinner was a masterclass. Emily piled the best roast potatoes onto her mother-in-laws plate, gasped at every anecdote, and bombarded her with homemaking questions.
Mummy dearest, how long should I simmer the gravytwo hours or three? And the curtainsshould I dust them before noon or after tea? Perhaps I should quit my job? After all, Oliver needs a proper family, doesnt he?
Oliver stared. The relatives exchanged glances. But Emily didnt stop.
Ive been thinkingmaybe I should take a course in domestic science? Give up this silly doctoring lark A womans place is in the home, isnt that right, Mummy?
Her mother-in-laws fork tapped nervously against her plate. Her confidence wilted by the minute. By dessert, the room was thick with discomfort. Emily served the Victoria sponge with a flourish, slicing it too neatly, placing each crumb just so. I made it myself, she lied sweetly. Followed your recipewell, Margarets version of it.
She sat back, smiling, as the silence stretched. Oliver finally cleared his throat, looking between them. Thats enough, Emily.
She turned to him, eyes wide with feigned innocence. But darling, Im only trying to be what everyone wants. What *she* wants.
Her mother-in-law opened her mouth, then closed it, fumbling with her napkin.
Emily leaned in, voice soft as silk. But you know, Mummy if this is what being the perfect daughter-in-law looks like, I think Id rather just be me.
She stood, wiped her lips, and tossed her napkin on the table. Oliver, Ill be in the car. Dont worryIll drive *very* carefully. Wouldnt want to ruin the perfect wife image.
And with that, she walked out, the front door clicking shut behind her like a period at the end of a very long sentence.
