**Diary Entry**
I pulled the car over just a street away from my mother-in-laws house. The clock read 5:45 p.m.Id arrived earlier than planned. *Maybe this time shell appreciate my punctuality*, I thought, smoothing the creases from my new dress. The giftan antique brooch Id spent months hunting down at collectors marketswas carefully wrapped on the back seat.
As I approached the house, I noticed the ground-floor window was slightly ajar. Inside, my mother-in-laws voice carried clearly:
No, Margaret, can you believe it? She didnt even bother to ask what cake I liked! Ordered some modern dessert Our son always loved a classic Victoria sponge, and she a pause, doesnt even understand. Seven years of marriage!
I froze. My feet might as well have been rooted to the pavement.
Of course, Ive told you beforeshes not right for William. Works day and night at that clinic of hers, barely home. What kind of homemaker is that? I popped round yesterdaydirty dishes, dust on the furniture And her, of course, wrapped up in some complicated surgery!
Everything inside me stilled. I leaned against the gate, knees trembling. For seven years, Id tried to be the perfect daughter-in-law: cooking, cleaning, remembering every birthday, visiting when she was ill. And all for nothing
No, I havent said a word, but is a woman like that really suited to my son? He needs a proper family, warmth, care And shes always at conferences or on night shifts. Doesnt even think about children! Can you imagine?
My head pounded. Mechanically, I pulled out my phone and dialled my husband.
William? Ill be a bit late. Yes, everythings fine, just traffic.
I turned and walked back to the car. Sat there, staring blankly ahead. The words Id just heard echoed: *Could do with more salt,* *In my day, women stayed home,* *William works so hard, he needs looking after*
My phone buzzeda message from William: *Mums asking where you are. Everyones here.*
I took a deep breath. A strange smile tugged at my lips. *Fine*, I thought. *If they want the perfect daughter-in-law, theyll get her.*
I started the engine and turned back toward the house. The plan formed in an instant.
No more trying to please. It was time to show them what a *proper* daughter-in-law could be.
I walked in with the broadest smile I could muster. Dearest Mummy! I exclaimed, embracing her with exaggerated warmth. Forgive me for being lateI stopped at three different shops to find those exact scented candles you adore!
She stiffened, thrown by the sudden energy. I thought she began, but I barrelled on.
Oh, and guess what? I ran into your friend Margaret on the way! Such a lovely woman, always so *honest*, isnt she? I gave her a pointed look, watching her pale.
Dinner was a performance. I heaped her plate with the best cuts, loudly marvelled at her every word, and endlessly sought her advice.
Mummy darling, how long should a proper roast cook? Three hours or four? And the carpetshoover in the morning or evening? Perhaps I should quit my job? After all, William needs a *real* family, doesnt he?
William stared. The relatives exchanged glances. But I didnt stop.
Ive been thinkingmaybe I should take a homemaking course? Give up this silly surgery lark A womans place is in the home, isnt that right, Mummy?
She tapped her fork nervously against her plate. Her confidence wilted by the minute.
And what happened next? Well, some stories are best read to the end
**Lesson learnt: Sometimes, the best revenge is giving people exactly what they ask forjust not how they imagined it. The next morning, I arrived at the house againthis time with a notepad and a determined smile. Mummy, I announced, Ive rewritten my schedule. From now on, Ill be here every day at 7 a.m. to prepare your breakfast exactly how you like it. Then Ill launder Williams suits, polish the silver, and study all your recipes. Oh, and Ive scheduled a meeting with a fertility specialisteight children, dont you think? Just like in your day.
She tried to protest, but the words caught in her throat.
By the end of the week, she called William in tears, begging him to make her stop.
I didnt quit my job. I didnt stop working late. But I did start showing upwith scented candles, relentless cheer, and an uncanny talent for turning her own words into my daily routine.
And when she finally whispered, You dont have to do all this, I just smiled sweetly.
Oh, but I want to, Mummy. After all Im exactly what you asked for. She never mentioned cake preferences again. William started laughing at dinner instead of staring at his plate. And every Sunday, without fail, I brought over a new recipescribbled in my neatest handwriting, titled Mummys Way.
The brooch? I kept it. A little remindersome treasures arent meant to be given. Theyre meant to be worn with pride, long after youve stopped trying to earn love.
