5March2025
My wife Emma was stirring a pot of soup when she said, How about we go to the theatre on Saturday? Theres a new production; Laura raved about it.
I paused my football on the telly and glanced at her. The theatre? Im knackered after the weeks grind.
She sighed, Youre always tired. We havent been out together for six months.
Reluctantly I muttered, Fine, well see, and turned back to the screen.
Emmas lips tightened. We keep saying maybe later, someday, well think about it. After fifteen years of marriage Im used to the excuses, though Im not resigned to them.
She switched off the stove and called me over. We really need to talk.
I didnt look away from the match. About what?
About my mum, she said. She called today. The roof at her cottage is leaking after the rain, and she needs it fixed. I thought she might stay with us for a couple of weeks while the builders finish.
I frowned. My mum called too. Shes starting some renovations and also wanted to move in with us.
Emma sat down at the kitchen table. Then let both of them stay. Theres enough space.
No, I shook my head. Two mums under one roof is too much. Theyll clash.
They wont, Emma replied. They get along fine.
I rose, poured a glass of water, drank, and faced her. My mum will live with us. Your mum, she can go to her cottage, I declared, firm.
A chill ran through Emma. So my mum stays in a leaky cottage while yours lives here?
Exactly, I shrugged. My mums almost sixtyfive; the construction site is hard on her. Your mum is younger, shell manage.
My mum is sixtytwo! Emma snapped. Whats three years difference?
There is a difference, I said obstinately. Besides, my mum is ill and needs peace.
Emma rose from the table. And mine? She has high blood pressure and a sore back!
Everyone aches, I waved it off. Bottom line: my mum arrives the day after tomorrow, and your mum stays at her cottage.
He turned back to the television. Emma stood in the kitchen, stunned that I could decide without her.
She went to the living room. Ian, we havent finished our conversation.
Ive got nothing more to say, I flicked the channels. Its settled.
It isnt! This is my flat too! I live here and I have a say!
The lease is in my name, I said coldly. I decide.
She fell silent, the realization sinking in that my name on the tenancy meant I was the boss.
Wonderful, she whispered through clenched teeth. Just wonderful.
She retreated to the bedroom, closed the door, and sank onto the bed, pressing her face into her hands. Anger and hurt swirled; she wanted to scream, to cry, to smash dishes, yet she sat in mute fury.
That evening we ate in silence. She set the table without a word; I dined, then returned to the telly. When we went to bed we each turned to our own wall.
In the morning I left for work without a goodbye. Emma called her mother, Margaret.
Sorry, love, you cant come over. My mum also wants to stay, theres not enough room.
Its alright, dear, Margaret replied cheerfully. Ill just stay at the cottage. What can I do?
But the roof is leaking! Emmas voice cracked with tears.
Well patch it with tarpaulin and buckets. Ill manage, Margaret said. Dont worry.
Emma hung up and wept. Her mum would be stuck under a dripping roof while my mother, Eleanor, would enjoy the warmth of our flat. I didnt care; my mother mattered more.
Later that day Ian called. Mum will be here this evening. Prepare the guest room.
Okay, Emma replied shortly and hung up. She tidied the spare room, laid fresh linen, and put out a vase of flowers, all mechanically, her mind elsewhere.
That night Eleanor arrived a stout woman with a sour expression.
Hello, dear, she planted a kiss on Emmas cheek. What a journey! The driver was rude all the way.
Good evening, MrsFoster, Emma said, helping her off the coat. The room is ready.
Sweetheart! Eleanor exclaimed, hugging Ian. Ive missed you!
Ian beamed, hugging his mother, asking about her trip. Emma watched, feeling the room contract around her.
At dinner Eleanor complained about the cost of the repair work.
Can you believe the builders want a hundred pounds for everything? Its a robbery!
Its normal these days, Ian said.
Normal? In my day you could buy a flat for that! Eleanor snorted. Now they charge an arm and a leg for anything.
Emma ate her borscht in silence while Eleanor grumbled about prices, the government, neighbours, the weather. Ian nodded politely.
Why so glum, Emma? Eleanor asked. You look downcast.
Im just tired, Emma answered.
Just tired? Eleanor mocked. I worked three jobs at your age and never complained!
Emma kept quiet; arguing with Eleanor was pointless she would always win the debate.
After dinner Eleanor slipped to her room. Emma washed up, and Ian approached her.
Whats wrong? he asked.
Im not angry, she said, not turning. Im upset.
Why?
Because you never asked my opinion, she finally said, looking at him. You just decided, and thats that. My mum will be soaked in rain, yours will be cosy here.
Dont exaggerate, Ian grimaced. Your mum will manage.
What if it were the other way around? Emma wiped her hands. If I said my mum would come and yours stay with the repairs?
Thats different, Ian muttered.
How?
My mum is older and sicker.
Its only three years! Emma snapped. Three years is no difference!
Ian waved his hand and walked away. Emma stayed alone in the kitchen, drinking the cold tea, wondering if she should just pack and go to her mums cottage, leaving Ian with his precious mother.
She thought, Where would I go? This is my home too.
The next morning Eleanor rose early, bustling about the kitchen. Emma awoke to the clatter of pots.
Morning, Eleanor called, rummaging through cupboards. Emma, wheres the sieve? I want to make porridge.
Its on the top shelf of the right cupboard, Emma replied.
Eleanor rummaged, pulling out dishes.
What a mess! How do you find anything here?
I do, Emma said calmly.
We need to reorganise everything, Eleanor declared, already on a mission.
No need, Emma said, gently taking Eleanors hand. Im comfortable as it is.
Comfortable? You live in chaos and then wonder why Ian is always disgruntled! Eleanor snapped.
Emma clenched her fists, breathing deeply. Eleanor, this is my kitchen. Ive cooked here for fifteen years and I like it this way.
Alright, alright, dont get riled, Eleanor said, waving it off. Just trying to help.
Emma left the kitchen, went to the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror tired eyes, dark circles, a strained face. She felt the weight of everything.
Ian left for work, and I stayed at home with Eleanor. She spent the morning wandering the flat, commenting on every detail: These curtains need replacing, the sofa is sagging, the wallpaper is peeling, the carpet is dusty.
Emma remembered how her own mother, Margaret, was always polite when she visited, never prying or criticizing.
By lunch Eleanor announced, Ill make my famous stew! Ian loves it! She commandeered the whole kitchen, pots and pans piled everywhere. Emma offered to help.
No, Ive got it, Eleanor scoffed. Youll never slice it right.
Emma retreated to the balcony, called Margaret.
Hi, Mum, how are you?
Im fine, love, Margaret replied cheerfully. Ive got the buckets in place and the tarpaulin on the roof. The rain has stopped for now.
Would you consider coming over? Emma asked, voice trembling. We could sort out a place for you.
Dont bother, Margaret said. I can manage here. I hear youre coping, so Ill be fine.
Emma hung up, tears welling. Her mother would endure a leaky cottage while Eleanor basked in our heated flat. Was that fair?
An hour later I called. Mum will be here this evening. Get the guest room ready.
Alright, Emma replied shortly, then hung up. She made the bed, fluffed the pillows, and placed fresh flowers, all on autopilot.
When Eleanor arrived, she greeted me with a smack on the cheek. Hello, dear, she cooed. What a ride! The driver was a real brute.
Good evening, MrsFoster, Emma said, taking her coat. The room is set.
Im your son! Eleanor shouted, hugging me. Ive missed you so much!
I smiled, answering her questions about the journey. Emma watched, feeling the room tighten around her.
During dinner Eleanor complained again about the builders price.
Can you imagine? One hundred pounds for the whole job! Its daylight robbery!
Its the market, mum, I said.
Market? In my day you could buy a whole flat for that! she retorted.
Emma ate silently, her mind elsewhere.
When the plates were cleared, Eleanor turned to Emma. Why so gloomy, love? You look down.
Im just exhausted, Emma answered.
Just exhausted? Eleanor laughed. I worked three jobs at your age and never complained!
Emma said nothing. Arguing would be futile; Eleanor would always have the last word.
Later, after the dishes were washed, I asked, Whats bothering you?
My mum called. Shes ill, feverish, and she cant stay at the cottage in that state.
I barely looked up from the laptop. What do you want?
I want you to send your mum away and take my mum in.
I snapped, Shes not going anywhere. Her renovation isnt finished.
My mum is sixtytwo! She has high blood pressure and heart trouble! I shouted. She cant be out in the cold!
Youre shouting at me, I said coldly. I said no. End of story.
Emma stared at me, suddenly seeing a stranger she had lived with for fifteen years.
Im going to my mums cottage, she said quietly. Ill stay until she recovers.
Go then, I said indifferently. Just leave dinner for us.
She packed a bag, prepared three days worth of food, and listed where everything was in the kitchen. Eleanor watched her pack.
How long are you staying? she asked.
I dont know. My mum is ill; she needs me.
Who will look after you? Eleanor demanded.
You, Emma said, pointing at me. Youre his mum.
She left for the cottage. My mum, Eleanor, was now living alone in our flat. The next days were a blur of phone calls from Margaret, who complained of a leak, and my mothers constant requests for food and blankets.
Three days later I returned home to a disaster: dishes piled high, the sink full of unwashed pots, and Eleanor lounging on the couch watching telly.
Ah, youre back, she said. We were starving.
Wheres Ian? Emma asked.
Hes at work, of course. Im on my own here, no one to cook or clean.
Emma went to the kitchen, turned on the tap, and began washing. Anger boiled inside her while she tended to her ailing mother, we had been waiting for a housekeeper that never came.
That night I came home, taking off my shoes.
Finally! I said. Mums been a mess without you.
Emma stared at me, the hurt evident.
My mums better now, thanks for asking, she said coldly.
Whats that supposed to mean? I asked.
I was a servant all month, she replied. I cooked, cleaned, cared for my mother, and you barely noticed. Now my mothers soup is the best thing in the house.
I didnt mean to I began.
She cut me off. Im tired of being invisible.
I watched her walk to the bedroom, close the door, and stay there. I knocked, asked for an explanation, but she didnt open.
The next morning she announced, Im moving back to my mums cottage for good.
Youve lost your mind! I shouted. Why this drama?
Its because you chose your mum over me, she said calmly. Your mum is your priority, mine is not.
Im not choosing, I replied, angry.
She sighed, Ive lived fifteen years for you, Ian. Cooked, washed, put up with your moods. When it came down to my mums health and your mums comfort, you chose your mum. Im not important to you.
She packed a bag, left the flat, and took the lift down, feeling a strange relief. It was the first time in years I did something purely for myself, not because I was expected to.
At the cottage, Margaret welcomed her with a warm hug.
Whats happened? she asked.
I realised Im not valued here, I said. Ive been a housewife, not a partner. I deserve respect.
Margaret nodded. Maybe its time to set boundaries.
A week later Ian showed up at the gate, looking exhausted and uneasy.
Emma, we need to talk, he began.
I met him on the porch.
Ive sent my mum back home, he said. Shes rented a flat while the work continues.
I listened, waiting.
Ive thought a lot, he continued, eyes on the ground. You were right. I was selfish, putting my mum above you and yours. I acted like a selfish idiot.
Go on, I urged.
My mother told me yesterday that Ive ruined your life. She said youre a wonderful wife and I dont appreciate you. She warned me that if I lose you Ill be a fool.
I was taken aback. My motherinlaw was actually on my side.
Im sorry, Ian said, taking my hand. For everything. For ignoring you, for neglecting your mum. Please, come back.
I looked at him, seeing genuine remorse.
I will return, I said slowly. But on conditions.
What conditions? he asked.
First never again put your mum above me. Im your wife; I should be your priority.
He nodded.
Second you will treat my mum with the same respect you give yours. If yours needs help, mine does too, without distinction.
He agreed.
Third I am not a servant. I am your partner. All decisions must be joint.
He squeezed my hand. I understand. Im truly sorry.
We went back inside. My mother, Margaret, was sipping tea in the kitchen.
Ian, Im sorry for the way I behaved, he said, shifting uneasily. I shouldnt have made you stay in that leaky cottage.
She smiled, I forgive you, but dont think Ill stand by if you hurt my daughter again.
He promised, and I felt a weight lift. The flat was spotless clearly he had tidied before coming back. I looked around: this was my home, my space, and I was returning not out of duty, but on my own terms.
That night we shared tea, and he confessed how hard life was without me.
You missed more than the food, I teased. You missed me.
He looked at me, eyes soft. I missed you, Emma. I need you.
A month later, Ian truly changed. He helped with chores, thanked me for meals, asked after Margarets health, and never dismissed my opinions. Eleanor, my motherinlaw, also softened, offering help instead of criticism.
One afternoon she said, Emma, Im sorry for how I behaved. I never meant to hurt you.
Thank you, MrsFoster, I replied, smiling.
When Margaret visited the city, Ian suggested, Shall we have your mum stay with us? Ill drive her to the cottage when she wants.
I looked at him gratefully. We finally felt like a real family, where everyone mattered, was respected, and loved.
This whole ordeal taught me that I must never accept being treated as invisible. I learned to set firm boundaries, to speak up when wronged, and to walk away if my worth isnt recognised. Only then can respect be earned and relationships truly thrive.From that day forward, I vowed never again to let anyone silence my voice.
