«Go back to your mother,» ordered the husband, placing the suitcases by the door.
«Mum, stop calling him,» Charlotte said, setting her cup on the table with a heavy sigh. «James is at workhes in a meeting.»
«In a meeting, is he?» Margaret pursed her lips. «I know all about these meetings. Wasnt he in a meeting last night when he rolled in at midnight? The smell of whisky off him could knock you over.»
Charlotte rubbed her temples wearily. Ever since she and James had moved in with her mother, every morning started with the same argument. It was meant to be temporaryjust a couple of months while their flat was being renovated. But the second month was nearly over, and there was still no end in sight.
«Mum, please,» Charlotte said, forcing calm into her voice. «You promised you wouldnt interfere.»
«Im not interfering,» Margaret said, setting her phone aside. «Im just worried about you. Youre working yourself to the bone, and hes out gallivanting. What sort of man is that?»
«A good man,» Charlotte stood up. «And hes not gallivanting. It was an important client dinnerI told you that already.»
Margaret gave a sceptical snort but didnt argue. Charlotte knew that lookher mother didnt believe a word of it.
«Im off to work,» Charlotte said, grabbing her bag. «Ill be back by eight.»
«Will you be home for lunch? I made shepherds pie.»
«No time, Mum. Ive got a meeting at one, then another client.»
«Youre always skipping meals,» Margaret shook her head. «No wonder you cant get pregnant. Hows a baby supposed to grow on an empty stomach?»
Charlotte sighed. The topic of children was a sore one, but her mother brought it up with relentless regularity. Five years married and still no grandchildrenunforgivable, in Margarets eyes.
«See you tonight,» Charlotte said, kissing her mothers cheek. «James promised to come home early, so well have dinner together.»
«If he comes home at all,» Margaret muttered.
Charlotte stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall. The stale air carried the faint scent of damp and old carpetthe smell of her childhood. Once, it had felt comforting. Now, it just grated on her nerves.
In the car, she rang James immediately.
«James, has Mum been calling you again?»
«Three times,» he said, exhaustion in his voice. «I didnt pick up.»
«Im sorry. Shes just worried.»
«Worried?» James scoffed. «She monitors my every move. Last night, it was the third degreewhere was I, who was I drinking with, why was I so late? Im not a teenager, Charlotte!»
«I know,» she said, starting the engine. «Just hang in there a little longer. The builder promised to finish the bathroom this week, then its just the kitchen. Well be back home soon.»
James was silent. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
«What if I dont want to go back?»
«What do you mean?»
«Never mind. See you at work.»
He hung up. Charlotte stared at her phone, unease coiling in her chest. What had he meant? Didnt want to return to their flator didnt want to return to *her*?
Work dragged endlessly. She couldnt focus, kept fumbling reports, forgot key details in meetings. She didnt see Jameshed gone to a site visit and wouldnt be back until evening.
By the time she got home, it was nearly nineshed stayed late fixing her mistakes. The flat was quiet, save for the muffled sound of the telly from the kitchen.
«Im home!» she called, kicking off her shoes.
No reply. Strangeusually, her mother would come out, asking how her day had been. Charlotte walked into the kitchen and froze.
Her mother and James sat at the table, the air between them thick with tension. Margaret was pointedly ignoring him, eyes fixed on the telly. James spun a cold cup of tea between his hands.
«Whats going on?» Charlotte asked.
James looked up. His eyes were cold, unfamiliar.
«Ask your mother,» he said. «Shes been lecturing me for the last half-hour.»
«Margaret, what happened?»
Margaret huffed.
«Nothing happened. Just told your husband a few hard truths. That hes no proper mancant even provide for his wife properly. Living off his mother-in-law because he cant afford his own place.»
«Mum!» Charlotte gasped. «We *have* our own place!»
«Some placea one-bed flat in a soulless block,» Margaret waved her off. «In my day, men built homes, supported their families. And whats he? Some sort of office lackey»
«Im a project manager,» James gritted out. «And I earn enough. Were only here because of the renovation.»
«Five years together, and what do you have to show for it?» Margaret pressed on, ignoring him. «No kids, no proper home. Your wife works herself to death while you»
«Mum, stop!» Charlotte raised her voice. «We agreedno pressure, no baby talk!»
Margaret pursed her lips.
«I only want whats best. Youre thirty-two, love. The clocks ticking.»
Charlotte sank into the chair beside James, taking his hand. He didnt pull away, but he didnt squeeze back, either.
«James, Im sorry. She just worries.»
«Worries?» He gave a bitter laugh. «She thinks Im a failure. A waste of space. Admit itshes always thought that.»
Charlotte didnt answer. What could she say? Her mother *had* opposed their marriage. «No prospects,» shed said. «No money, no connections. And five years younger than youstill wet behind the ears.»
«Go to bed,» Margaret grumbled, standing. «Ive got my blood pressure checked in the morning, and you two are giving me a headache.»
She shuffled to her room and slammed the door. Charlotte and James were alone.
«Im sorry,» she said again.
«For what?» James looked at her, exhausted. «That your mother thinks Im worthless? Or that you never stand up to her?»
«I *do* stand up to her!»
«No, Charlotte. You nod, you placate, then tell me to *bear with it*. Ive borne it for five years. Maybe enoughs enough.»
He stood, pushing back his chair.
«Where are you going?»
«To bed. Early start tomorrow.»
Charlotte watched him walk away to their tiny roomher old childhood bedroom, barely big enough for a double bed. Clenching her fists, she glanced at her mothers door. She wanted to storm in, to scream, to release all the pent-up frustration. But she couldnt. She never could.
The next morning, James left earlier than usualCharlotte didnt even hear him go. Her mother sat at the kitchen table with tea and pills.
«Gone off already, has he?» she said instead of a greeting.
«Mum, enough,» Charlotte sighed. «Hes my husband. I love him. And you need to respect him.»
«Respects earned,» Margaret said flatly. «Your father was a real man. Could fix anythingnever needed a handyman. And this one? Leaky tap? Call a plumber. Shelf loose? Ask the neighbour. What good is he?»
Charlotte ate in silence. Arguing was pointless. Her mother saw the world in black and whiteright and wrong. And no one changed her mind.
At work, James was out on site again. Their messages were clipped, all business, no mention of last night. Charlotte stayed late, hoping her mother would be asleep by the time she got back.
But the lights were on in every room. Raised voices came from the kitchen. Charlotte hurried in.
James and Margaret stood facing each other. Her mothers face was flushed with anger; James looked eerily calm, only the tension in his jaw betraying him.
«Whats going on?» Charlotte asked.
«Your husband,» Margaret jabbed a finger at James, «has decided to move out. Says hes got a flat lined up for tomorrow.»
Charlotte went pale.
«James, is this true?»
«Yes,» he nodded. «Found a decent place near work. Moving in tomorrow.»
«What about me?»
«Thats your choice,» James met her eyes. «Come with me or stay here. I wont live like this anymore, Charlotte. Listening to how useless I am every day. Justifying where Ive been, who I was with. Its not a life.»
«There!» Margaret exclaimed. «See? Hes leaving you! And what did I say? Worthless, the lot of him!»
«Mum!» Charlotte turned sharply. «Stop it! Now!»
Margaret faltered, unused to such sharpness from her daughter.
«Im still your mother,» she said quietly. «And I know whats what. Let him go if he wants. Youre my daughterhes just passing through.»
«James,» Charlotte faced him. «Lets talk properly. Maybe we shouldnt rush this»
«Ive said all I need to,» he cut in. «Im leaving. With or without youyour choice.»
He walked out. Charlotte wanted to follow, but Margaret grabbed her arm.
«Dont grovel, love. Let him go. Youll find someone better.»
Charlotte pulled free.
«I dont *want* anyone else! I love him, dont you understand? I love him!»
«Stop shouting,» Margaret winced. «Loves for fairy tales. Lifes about reliability. Your James is weak. Today he walks outnext time, another skirt catches his eye, and off he goes again.»
Charlotte stared at her mother and suddenly understoodnothing would ever change. This woman would always believe she knew best, always interfere, always criticise. And James was rightthey couldnt live like this.
«Im going with him,» she said firmly. «Tomorrow.»
«What?!» Margarets hands flew up. «Dont be daft! Youve got everything herea roof, meals, someone looking after you. And whats out there? A rented shoebox with a man who could toss you aside any moment!»
«Better a shoebox with someone I love than a gilded cage.»
Margaret paled.
«So my homes a cage now? Im your jailer? I gave up everything for you! Raised you alonesleepless nights»
«And youve held it over me my whole life,» Charlotte said softly. «You wont let go, Mum. You wont let me live *my* life. Build *my* family.»
«What family?» Margaret laughed bitterly. «Five yearsno kids, no proper home. Just work, work, work.»
«We didnt have kids because we wanted to be stable first,» Charlotte explained. «And now… now Im just scared. Scared youd do the same with grandchildrentake over, dictate, criticise.»
«I only want whats best!»
«I know. But your *best* is smothering us. Me, especially.»
Charlotte walked out, leaving her mother stunned. James sat on the bed, staring at the wall.
«Im coming with you,» she said, sitting beside him. «Im sorry I didnt see how hard this was for you.»
James pulled her close.
«I love you,» he whispered. «I just cant stay here. Shes driving me mad.»
«Me too,» Charlotte admitted. «Ive only just realised it.»
They lay in silence, listening to Margarets restless footsteps. She didnt sleeppacing, clattering dishes, flicking the telly on and off.
The next morning, James was already gone. Charlotte found her mother at the table, untouched tea before her.
«Morning,» Charlotte said.
«Morning,» Margaret didnt look up. «He left early. Said hed pick you and your things up tonight.»
Charlotte sat opposite her.
«Mum, Im not abandoning you. Well visit, call»
«Of course,» Margaret gave a joyless smile. «Every weekend at first, then once a month, then just holidays. I know how this goes.»
«It wont be like that,» Charlotte took her hand. «I love you. But I love James too. And I need to be with him.»
«Youre choosing him over me,» Margaret said stubbornly. «Youll regret it. Mark my words.»
Charlotte sighed. There was no reasoning with her.
«Ive got to get to work,» she stood. «Ill pack my things tonight.»
«Go on, then,» Margaret nodded. «Run off. Everyone does, in the end.»
At work, Charlotte couldnt focus. All she thought about was her mothers loneliness. Guilt twisted in her chest. Were she and James rushing this? Should they wait until the renovation was done?
James texted her the new flats address and photosa bright two-bed with a spacious kitchen. But looking at them, Charlotte felt no joy. Only dread.
That evening, she came home early to pack before James arrived. Her key turned in the lockand she froze. Two large suitcases stood in the hallway. *Her* suitcases, already packed.
«Mum?» she called. «Are you here?»
Margaret emerged from her room, eyes red-rimmed.
«Packed your things,» she said stiffly. «Everything I could find. If youve forgotten anything, fetch it later.»
«Why did you do this?» Charlotte whispered, staring at the bags.
«What else could I do?» Margaret shrugged. «Youve made your choice. No point dragging it out.»
Charlotte stepped closer.
«Mum, Im not leaving forever. Well visit»
«Go back to your mother,» Jamess voice cut in. He stood in the doorway, glaring at Margaret.
«James, whats wrong?»
«Go back to your mother,» he repeated coldly. «If shes packed your bags, its decided.»
«Nothings decided!» Charlotte protested. «Mum was just trying to help»
«Help?» James scoffed. «Shes throwing you out. Packed your things, left them by the door. Thats not *help*.»
«No, James, you dont understand»
Margaret burst into tearsloud, messy sobs, face in her hands. Charlotte rushed to her.
«Mum, please! Im not going anywhere!»
«Go to him,» Margaret wept. «Leave me. I get it. You dont need me anymore.»
Charlotte held her, rocking gently. James stood frozen in the doorway.
«Choose, Charlotte,» he said quietly. «Come with me or stay. But if you stay, thats it. I wont play these games anymore.»
«What games?»
«Shes manipulating you,» James nodded at Margaret. «Always has. And you let her. You always will, as long as youre under her roof.»
Margaret lifted her tear-streaked face.
«See, love? *See* what hes like? Wants to tear us apart. Steal you away.»
Charlotte looked between themthe two people she loved most, waiting for her decision. For the first time in her life, she didnt know what to do.
«I cant choose like this,» she whispered. «I need time.»
«There *is* no time,» James said flatly. «Ive paid a months rent. We go now, or I go alone. For good.»
«Dont you dare give her ultimatums in *my* house,» Margaret snapped. «Shes *my* daughter! Mine, not yours! *She* decides!»
«Shes *my* wife,» James said icily. «And Ill fight for my family.»
Charlotte pulled away from her mother, inhaling deeply. Her mind was fogged, but one thought pierced throughthis would never end. If she stayed, her mother would always control her life. If she left with James, hed never accept her mother.
«Im staying,» she said softly.
James flinched as if struck.
«What?»
«Im staying, James,» she repeated. «Mums alone. She needs me. We… we can wait a little longer. Until the renovations done.»
Margaret shot James a triumphant look.
«There. A daughter always chooses her mother.»
«Go back to your mother,» James said, shoving the suitcases onto the landing. «Live with her, if she matters more than our marriage. But dont expect me to wait.»
He turned and left. Charlotte lurched forward, but Margaret yanked her back.
«Let him go. Hell cool off. If notgood riddance. Weve managed without him before.»
Charlotte watched the door close, feeling her world collapse. The choice was made. Whether it was rightonly time would tell.
Two weeks later, divorce papers arrived in the post. Charlotte signed without reading. Margaret said nothing, lips pressed tight when Charlotte told her.
The renovation finished a month later. The flat stood emptyCharlotte couldnt bear to go inside. She decided to rent it out.
She found a new jobfar from where James worked. Started going out more, to films, the theatre. Sometimes even with Margaret, whod softened strangely, become more pliant. Afraid of losing her completely, perhaps.
Some nights, Charlotte cried, missing her husband. Wonderedwhat if shed chosen differently? Gone with him? Would they have been happy?
But life doesnt deal in *what-ifs*. The choice was made. The path taken. And Charlotte walked it, day by day, learning to live without him. Learning not to blame her mother, or James, or herself.
What came nextonly time would tell.
