Either your mum moves out, or we get a divorce, I told Emily after her latest stunt.
How much longer are we going to wait? Well be late! she snapped, glancing at the clock and shifting from foot to foot in the hallway.
Im ready, just need to fix my tie, Andrew called from the bedroom. Wed have been out ages if you hadnt changed your outfit three times.
Dont even start, Emily muttered, irritation creeping into her voice. I want to look decent at your office party, not like a drab mouse!
Andrew stepped into the doorway, tightening the knot. At fortyfive he still looked fit, though a streak of silver was showing at his temples.
You always look smashing, he said more softly. Especially when youre not stressing.
Emily opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment Mrs. Wilson, Emilys mother, appeared from the kitchen with a steaming mug of tea.
Where are you two all dressed up for? she asked, eyeing them over.
Andrews got a corporate dinner, Mum. I mentioned it this morning, Emily adjusted her earrings.
Right, Id forgotten, Mrs. Wilson sipped her tea. And why so late? Its already nine.
Were in a hurry, Andrew tried to stay calm, his patience fraying. Emily, take a cab? Or should I drive?
A cab, please. You should be able to relax a bit too. Emily pulled out her phone.
Exactly, Mrs. Wilson interjected. Men always want a drink, but the moment responsibility comes up they disappear into the bushes.
Andrew clenched his jaw and counted to ten. Every comment from his motherinlaw felt like an accusation, even the weather.
Mum, please, Emily whispered, casting an apologetic glance at Andrew.
Fine, Ill be quiet, Mrs. Wilson retreated to the kitchen, leaving the door ajar so she could overhear.
The cab will be here in five minutes, Emily said, stashing her phone in her evening bag.
Alright, Andrew grabbed his blazer. Did you get the keys?
Yes, got everything.
Mrs. Wilson popped back into view.
When will you be back? Should I lock the door for the night?
No need, Mum. We have the keys.
What if you lose them? Or get a bit tipsy? she said, eyeing Andrew skeptically.
We wont lose the keys, he snapped. I know my limits.
Everyone says that, then they
The doorbell rang, cutting off the argument. The cab pulled up and Andrew let out a sigh of relief. Another night without Mums commentary.
Dont stay out too late! Mrs. Wilson called after them.
In the cab, Emily squeezed Andrews hand.
Sorry about my mum. She just worries.
Yeah, I get that, he replied, watching the dark streets whiz by. Sometimes he imagined just blending in with the crowds, free from the feeling that every step was being judged.
Mrs. Wilson had moved in with them three months earlier after Emilys dad passed away. It started as a temporary fix until she got used to life without him, but the temporary had stretched into a permanent situation, and their threebed flat felt more like a cage.
The office dinner was held at a sleek restaurant in central London, live jazz in the background, colleagues in their finest. Andrew loosened up as he chatted with coworkers and their partners. Emily shone in a dark navy dress, turning heads.
Your wife is wonderful, said Victor Simmons, the company director, as they lingered by the bar. A real lady.
Thanks, Andrew replied proudly, watching Emily chat animatedly with Victors wife. Im lucky.
How long have you two been married? Victor asked.
April will mark fifteen years.
Impressive, Victor nodded. Any kids?
Nope, Andrew shook his head. We tried, but it just didnt work out. That was a sore spot. Theyd spent years on tests and treatments, doctors saying everything was fine but they needed to be patient. Eventually theyd decided to be happy together, childfree.
The evening went on. Andrew had a couple of glasses of wine, never more than that he always knew his limits, despite Mrs. Wilsons opinions. By eleven he was ready to head home.
Should we stay a bit longer? Emily suggested, eyes sparkling as a slow song began.
How about another half hour, then we head off? Ive got work tomorrow.
Emily smiled and pulled him onto the dance floor. They swayed to the music like they were back in their twenties, Andrew holding her close, breathing in the scent of her perfume, feeling that maybe things werent so bad after all.
They got back around midnight. The flat was still lit, though they hoped Mrs. Wilson was already in bed.
You finally made it, Mrs. Wilson called from the hallway as they stepped inside. I was about to call the police.
Just a normal office party, Mum, Emily sighed.
In my day respectable folk didnt come home that late, Mrs. Wilson sniffed. And youre still drinking, Andrew.
I only had two glasses, he said calmly.
Everyone says that.
Can we talk about this tomorrow? Emily interjected. Were exhausted.
Of course, Mum huffed. My opinion doesnt matter anyway.
Andrew slipped into the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away the tension. Fifteen years of marriage and hed never felt this strained before. When he emerged, Emily was already in bed.
Dont mind Mum, she whispered. Shes still coping with Dads death.
I get that, Andrew lay down beside her. But its been three months of feeling like a guest in our own home. Shes always there, always commenting.
Give her time, Emily stroked his arm. Shell settle.
Andrew wanted to admit he was scared of getting used to the constant nagging, the need to account for every move, the loss of privacy. He stayed quiet as Emily drifted off, knowing a tough workday lay ahead.
Morning started with the smell of fried fish a scent Andrew hated since childhood, and Mrs. Wilson knew full well. He trudged into the kitchen, grimacing.
Morning, she grumbled. Breakfast will be ready soon.
Thanks, but Ill grab something at work. Im in a rush.
Always the same, she sighed dramatically. My cooking isnt good enough for the boss.
Its not about that, he replied, taking a quick sip of coffee. Im just late.
And Emily will have breakfast at home like a proper wife, she added, placing a hefty portion of fish on a plate. Not like some of those other wives who are always out.
Andrew finished his coffee, left the kitchen, and met a sleepy Emily at the front door.
Already off? she asked.
Got a lot to do, he kissed her cheek. Your mum made fish.
Ugh, again, Emily grimaced. Ill talk to her.
Its fine, he replied, weary. It wont change anything.
The workday dragged on, his mind constantly drifting back to the flat. At lunch, Emily called.
Hey, hows it going? her voice sounded tense.
Fine, just working. Whats up?
Mum was rummaging through my wardrobe, saying she was tidying up. I told her you dont like people touching your stuff, and she got upset.
Honestly, Im fed up, Andrew blurted. Why does she think she can manage our house?
Shes trying to help, Emily defended. Shes always busy, needs something to do.
Let her mind her own business! he snapped, then realized colleagues might hear. Ill call you later.
He stared out the window, wondering if they should ask Mum to move back into her old flat. Shed sold it soon after her husband died, saying the memories were too much, leaving them with nowhere to go.
That evening Andrew stayed late at the office, not wanting to face the flat. When he finally got home, Emily met him with a guilty look.
Did something happen? he asked, slipping off his shoes.
Mum accidentally broke your model aircraft, she said quietly. The one you brought back from Germany.
Andrew froze. The rare Messerschmitt was his pride, painstakingly assembled over months.
Accidentally? he repeated.
Yes, she was vacuuming, hit the wardrobe, and the model fell.
Why was she vacuuming in my study? he snapped, feeling anger surge. We agreed that was offlimits!
She wanted to do me a favour, knew youd be late and thought a tidy room would help.
Where is she now?
She went to a neighbours, said shed come back once youve calmed down.
He entered his study. The model lay shattered, wings snapped, fuselage split in two. Months of work gone.
This is the last straw, he murmured, staring at the wreckage.
Andrew, please, Emily pleaded from behind, eyes wet. She didnt mean it.
Its not about the plane, he turned to her. Its that your mum doesnt respect our space, our rules, our relationship. Shes constantly interfering.
Shes only worried about us, Emily tried to defend, but her voice lacked confidence.
No, shes controlling. I cant live like this any longer.
What do you mean? Emilys eyes widened with fear.
Either your mum moves out, or we divorce, he said, the ultimatum hanging heavy. Im serious. Im at my limit.
Emily recoiled as if struck.
You cant be serious! Kick your own mother out?
Im not kicking her out. She can rent a flat nearby. Well help with the rent, visit, whatever. But we cant keep living under the same roof.
What if I choose Mom? she whispered.
Then well have to part ways, he answered quietly. For fifteen years youve been my priority, but the last three months Ive felt like a guest in my own home.
Tears streamed down Emilys face.
Its unfair! Mums alone, she needs support!
And I need my wife, a home where I can unwind without another comment every few minutes.
At that moment the front door slammed open Mrs. Wilson had returned, hearing voices from the study.
Ah, there you are, she began, standing in the doorway. Probably said a lot of nasty things about me to Emily, huh? I was only trying to help. That dusty little toy of yours was already a mess.
Mum! Emily shouted. Not now, please.
When will you finally listen to your husbands side of the story? the older woman retorted.
Enough, Andrew interjected, surprisingly calm. Mrs. Wilson, lets sit down and talk like adults.
She fell silent, surprised. They moved to the living room and took their seats Andrew in an armchair, Emily and her mum on the sofa.
I understand this is hard for you, Andrew started. Losing a partner after so many years is painful. But you need to see our side too. Emily and I have built a life together over fifteen years, and now its under threat.
Because of me? she snapped.
Yes, he said plainly. Your constant checking, comments, interference makes me feel like a stranger in my own house.
Thats my house now, she replied stubbornly.
Thats exactly what I wanted to discuss, Andrew continued, keeping his tone even. I think it would be better if you lived elsewhere.
Youre kicking my daughters mother onto the street? she exclaimed, waving her hands. Thats cruel!
Were not kicking you out, he replied patiently. Well help you find a nearby flat, pay part of the rent, visit often.
And if I refuse? she crossed her arms.
Then Im afraid Emily and I wont be able to stay together, he said, looking at his wife. Ive already told her that.
Youre blackmailing us! she shouted. Emily, youll stand by this?
Emilys face was streaked with tears. I dont know what to do, Mum. I love you both, but Andrews right the last months have been rough for everyone.
So you want me to go? the older woman asked, hurt evident in her voice.
I want us all to be happy, Emily whispered. Right now nobodys happy not you, not Andrew, not me.
A silence settled. Mrs. Wilson looked between her daughter and soninlaw as if seeing them for the first time.
I never thought it would get this bad, she finally said. I thought I was helping.
We appreciate the care, Andrew replied gently. But sometimes caring turns into overstepping.
She lowered her head.
After your dad died I was terrified of being alone, of the silence. I started meddling, trying to feel needed.
Emily hugged her mother.
We love you, Mum, and youll always be part of our lives. But maybe Andrews point is right you could have your own place nearby and still be with us.
Mrs. Wilson stayed quiet for a long while, then sighed.
You may be right. I didnt want to admit it, but Ive taken too much liberty. Its hard to accept Im no longer the centre of your world.
Youll always be important to us, Andrew said. We just need each others boundaries.
They talked for ages about logistics, future visits, and how to make the transition smoother. For the first time in three months, Andrew felt truly heard. He saw his motherinlaw not as an enemy but as a lonely woman scared of being forgotten.
The next day Emily found an ad for a onebed flat a street away. They viewed it, paid the deposit, and helped Mrs. Wilson move in the following week.
Are you still angry at me? Emily asked as they returned to their own flat after the move.
For what? Andrew replied, surprised.
For the ultimatum. It was harsh.
Sometimes you have to be firm to protect what matters, he said, pulling her close. I didnt want to lose you, but I couldnt keep going like that.
You know, Emily mused, it might actually be for the best. Mum sounds almost happy now. She said shes joined a seniors club.
See? She needed her own life, not just looking after us.
They settled on the couch in the quiet of their flat, a gentle buzz from Emilys phone announcing a message from her mum a photo of her new living room, fresh flowers, a picture frame on the wall.
Looks like it worked, Emily smiled.
Andrew nodded, feeling the tension of the past months lift. Sometimes you have to push to the edge to find a new path, and even the toughest ultimatums can lead to a happy ending for everyone.
