**Diary Entry**
Today was unbearable. *»Go back to your mother,»* James ordered, shoving my bags into the hallway.
*»Mum, stop calling him,»* I said, setting my teacup down with a sigh. *»James is at workhes in a meeting.»*
*»A meeting, is it?»* Mum pursed her lips. *»I know all about these meetings. Wasnt he at one yesterday when he rolled in at midnight? You could smell the whiskey on him from a mile off.»*
I rubbed my temples. Ever since James and I moved in with herjust temporarily, while our flat was being renovatedevery morning started like this. Two months in, and the end was nowhere in sight.
*»Mum, please,»* I said, forcing calm. *»You promised not to interfere.»*
*»Im not interfering,»* she sniffed, setting her phone aside. *»I just worry. Youre working yourself to the bone while hes out gallivanting. What sort of man does that?»*
*»A good one,»* I snapped, standing. *»And he wasnt gallivanting. It was a client dinnerI told you.»*
Mum scoffed but dropped it. That lookshe never believed a word.
*»Im going to work,»* I muttered, grabbing my bag. *»Back by eight.»*
*»Youll miss lunch. I made a roast.»*
*»No time. Meeting at one, then a client.»*
*»Youre always starving yourself,»* she tutted. *»No wonder youre not pregnant. Hows a baby supposed to grow on an empty stomach?»*
I exhaled sharply. The *baby* topicalways a sore spot. Five years married, no grandchildren. *Unacceptable.*
*»See you tonight,»* I said, kissing her cheek. *»James promised hed be home early. Well have dinner together.»*
*»If he comes home,»* she muttered.
The hallway smelled of damp and old carpeta scent from childhood that once felt cosy, now just suffocating.
In the car, I called James. *»Did Mum ring you again?»*
*»Three times. I ignored it.»*
*»Sorry. Shes just worried.»*
*»Worried?»* He laughed bitterly. *»She monitors every move. Last night, it was an interrogationwhere was I, who was I drinking with, why so late? Im not a teenager, Emily!»*
*»I know,»* I said, starting the engine. *»Just hang on a little longer. The contractor said the bathrooms done this week, then just the kitchen. Well be home soon.»*
Silence. Then, quieter: *»What if I dont want to go back?»*
*»What do you mean?»*
*»Never mind. See you at work.»*
The line went dead. My stomach twisted. Did he mean our flat? Or… *us?*
Work dragged. I messed up numbers in a meeting, forgot key contract points with a client. James was out on-site all day.
I got home late, past nine. The flat was silent, just the telly murmuring from the kitchen.
*»Im home!»* No answer. Oddusually, Mum would hover, asking about my day.
Then I saw them: Mum and James at the table, tension thick. She stared at the telly, ignoring him. He spun a cold teacup in his hands.
*»Whats going on?»*
James looked up, icy. *»Ask your mother. Shes been tearing into me for half an hour.»*
Mum sniffed. *»Just told him the truth. Not a real mancant even provide. Living off his mother-in-law like some layabout.»*
*»We *have* our own place!»* I cried.
*»A shoebox in some high-rise,»* she waved off. *»In my day, men built homes. This one? Some project manager»*
*»Senior project lead,»* James ground out. *»And I earn enough. Were only here because of the *renovation*.»*
*»Five years, and whatve you got?»* Mum went on. *»No kids, no proper home. Wife working like a dog while you»*
*»Enough!»* I shouted. *»We agreedno pressure, no baby talk!»*
Mums lips thinned. *»I only want whats best. Youre thirty-twotimes ticking.»*
I sat beside James, took his hand. He didnt pull away, but didnt squeeze back.
*»She thinks Im a failure,»* he said quietly. *»Always has.»*
I didnt argue. Shed opposed our marriage from the start. *»No prospects,»* shed said. *»Five years youngerstill a boy.»*
Later, in bed, James held me. *»I love you. But I cant live like this. Shes driving me mad.»*
*»Me too,»* I admitted. *»I just… didnt see it until now.»*
Morning came. James left early. Mum sat at the table, tea untouched.
*»Your prince run off?»* she said.
*»Stop. Hes my husband. You *have* to respect him.»*
*»Respects earned. Your father was a *real* man. Leaky tap? Fixed it himself. This one calls a plumber.»*
Work was a blur. James texteda new flat, photos of a bright two-bed. I felt… nothing but dread.
That evening, my bags were packed, waiting in the hall.
*»Ive sorted your things,»* Mum said, voice brittle. *»If youve forgotten anything, fetch it later.»*
James appeared in the doorway, jaw tight. *»Go back to your mother. If shes packed your bags, its decided.»*
*»Nothings decided!»* I cried. *»She was just helping»*
*»Helping?»* He laughed coldly. *»Shes throwing you out. Your *things* are by the door, Emily.»*
Mum burst into tears. *»Go with him! Leave me! I *know* Im not wanted!»*
I hugged her, frantic. James watched, stony.
*»Choose,»* he said. *»Come with me, or stay. But if you stay, its for good. I wont play these games anymore.»*
*»Games?»*
*»Shes manipulating you. And you let her. You always will, under her roof.»*
Mum lifted her head, triumphant. *»See, love? Hes trying to take you from me!»*
I looked between themthe two people I loved most, waiting for me to pick.
*»I… cant decide right now,»* I whispered.
*»There *is* no time,»* James said. *»Ive paid the rent. We go now, or I go alone. Forever.»*
Mum glared. *»Dont you dare give her ultimatums in *my* house! Shes *my* daughter!»*
*»Shes my *wife*,»* James shot back. *»And Ill fight for my family.»*
I stepped back, heart pounding. One clear thought cut through the fog: *This never ends.* If I stayed, shed control everything. If I left, James would never forgive her.
*»Im staying,»* I said softly.
James flinched like Id struck him. *»What?»*
*»Mum needs me. We can wait… just until the renovations done.»*
Mum smirked. *»A daughter chooses her mother.»*
*»Go back to her, then,»* James said, shoving my bags into the hall. *»But dont wait for me. Im done.»*
He left. Mum clutched my arm. *»Let him go. Weve managed without him before.»*
I signed the divorce papers two weeks later. The flat was finished a month after thatempty. Too painful to visit. I rented it out.
New job, new routines. Mum softened, strangely. Less cutting. Maybe afraid shed lose me, too.
Sometimes, at night, I wonder: *What if Id left with him?*
But life doesnt do *what-ifs*. The choice was made. Now I walk this pathlearning to live without him. Without blame.
What comes next? Only time will tell.
