Your spot belongs in the kitchen, not in the family picture, Alice said with a wry smile, dropping the camera onto the table.
The soup was oversalted on purpose, or is cooking just not your forte? Helens voice drifted in, soft yet each syllable rang in Emmas ears like a bell.
I followed your recipe exactly, Emma replied, trying to keep her tone even. You gave it to me yourself.
Of course, dear, Im the culprit, Helen huffed, pushing her plate away with a theatrical flourish. David, are you really going to eat that?
David didnt lift his head. He ate the beetladen broth as if nothing had happened, methodically polishing it off. Across from him, Alice lounged, her usual halfsmile tightening the fist Emma clenched beneath the tabletop.
Mother, why are you so harsh? Alice finally spoke, her voice a gentle lilt. Maybe shes just used to a different palate. Their family cooked differently.
Emma recognized the toneprotective on the surface, but underneath it poured gasoline onto the fire. Alice always did that: soft words that cut deep.
David, say something, Emma snapped, the pressure breaking.
Davids eyes rose slowly.
Whats there to say? The soup is fine. Eat it and stop nitpicking.
See, Mum, Alice reached for the bread, David likes it, so it must be all right.
Helen pursed her lips, but said nothing more. The lunch continued in a strained hush, broken only by the clink of cutlery and Alices occasional remarks about her new car, a upcoming holiday in Spain, and work gossip.
Emma mechanically emptied her bowl. Three years. Three years married to David, three years enduring this. Constant critiques from Helen, venomous jokes from Alice, Davids silence. She had hoped time would smooth the edges, that she would become part of the family. Instead, each day confirmed she would never truly belong.
After the meal she cleared the table, washed dishes while the women drifted to the sitting room for tea. David slipped off to his study, citing work. Fragments of conversation floated from the kitchen.
She tries, but shes not one of us, Helen muttered.
Come on, Mum, David loves her. Theyre happy together, Alice chided.
Love, love love fades, but the chores and the grievances stay. Shes nothingno backbone, just a quiet mouse.
Emma squeezed the sponge tighter. A quiet mouse. Yes, perhaps that was it. Shed been taught as a child to stay unseen, modest, obedient. In school she never argued with teachers; at university she swallowed the teasing of peers. Now, at thirtytwo, she still swallowed slights in silence.
Emma, bring the biscuits! Alice called from the lounge.
Emma dried her hands, fetched a tin of biscuits from the cupboard, and carried it into the sitting room. Helen and Alice were perched on the sofa, eyes glued to a phone.
Mum, look at this dress! Ill wear it to the party, Alice showed a picture. Max will be thrilled.
Lovely, dear. Red suits you.
Emma set the tin down, ready to leave, when Helen stopped her.
Emma, when do you and David plan on having children? Its been three years already, and nothings changed.
The question landed like a slap. Emma froze.
We arent ready yet.
Not ready? At your age you should be thinking about grandchildren. Im not getting any younger, and you keep dragging your feet.
Mum, maybe they have their own issues, Alice interjected. A lot of couples are like that these days.
What issues? Davids a healthy man. If theres a problem, it must be with you.
Emma felt heat rise in her cheeks. She wanted to explain that the decision was mutual, that they wanted to save enough for a flat, but the words caught in her throat.
Im leaving, she managed to whisper.
In the hallway Emma leaned against the wall, eyes shut. Inside her, everything boiled. Week after week the same pattern: visiting Davids parents, feeling like a servantcook, clean, endure. David never spoke up.
She slipped into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face. She had to hold on a little longer; soon theyd return home, and there it would be just the two of them. At his parents house David turned into a quiet boy, but at their own place he could be attentive.
Back in the sitting room Alice held up a camera.
Mum, lets take a family photo! Weve never had a proper one.
Great idea! David, come over here! Helen called.
David emerged from his room, yawning.
Whats happening?
Were doing a family portrait.
Alice began arranging everyone. She plopped Helen into a armchair, set David beside her.
Mum, you sit here; Ill stand on the other side of David.
Emma lingered at the edge, unsure whether to join. Alice tinkered with the camera, muttering to herself.
May I join too? Emma asked timidly.
Alice lifted her gaze, stared long enough to make Emmas skin prickle, then smirked.
Your place is in the kitchen, not in the family picture, she said, lowering the camera.
Silence hung heavy. Emma stood frozen, disbelief flooding her. Helen glanced away as if nothing had been said. David remained mute.
What? Emma managed.
Nothing, dear, Alice shrugged. Its a family picture. Our family: Mum, me, David. Whats your role?
Im Davids wife.
And so what? Wives come and go; the family stays.
David finally looked up from his shoes.
Alice, thats enough. Emma will be in the photo.
Alright, I was only teasing, Alice waved a hand. Stand over here, off to the side.
But Emmas mind had already cracked open. She turned and headed for the hallway, jacket shaking as she pulled it on.
Emma, where are you going? David called after her.
Home.
But we agreed to stay for dinner.
Im not staying. Stay if you want, with your family.
Emma, stop. Youre being ridiculous. You know how Alice is.
I know her, I know your mum, I even know you.
She walked out without a goodbye. David lingered, then slipped back inside, his world unchanged.
Outside, the wind of an October evening whipped around her, pulling at her coat. Tears blurred her vision, hurt and fear tangled together. She ran, not caring about the street, only the need to escape the endless loop.
She collapsed onto a sofa at her mothers flat, finally letting the tears fall, long and raw, until exhaustion took over. She dried her face, brewed tea, and stared out the window where streetlights flickered like distant stars.
Later that night David returned, slipping in quietly, looking ashamed.
Emma, are you awake?
She stayed silent.
Listen, why did you react like that? Alice was just being foolish.
It wasnt a joke, David.
Well, fine, not a joke. She clumsily chose her words, but you know heralways blurting something out.
And you? Why do you always stay quiet when they put you down?
David sank onto the armrest, hands covering his face.
What can I do? Theyre my mum and my sister. I cant argue with them over every little thing.
Over a little thing? Emmas voice trembled. You call it a little thing when they insult me?
No ones insulting you! Mum just has a controlling nature; shes used to running everything. Alice is spoiled, but they dont mean harm.
So I have to keep suffering?
Dont suffer, speak up. Im not forbidding you.
Emma forced a bitter smile.
Speak up, and then youll be angry at me for upsetting your mother.
What does that have to do with anything?
It does. Remember six months ago I told your mum we couldnt keep visiting every weekend? You stopped talking to me for a week, called me ungrateful.
David fell silent. Emma went on.
And when Alice said she was surprised you married me, that Im a dull mouse with no beauty or wit, you laughed and called me domestic. That hurt.
Enough, Emma.
It wasnt a month ago, was it? Just a month.
They sat in a heavy quiet. Inside Emma felt a new fire flarereal, hot anger. Not at Alices barbs, not at Helens constant criticism, but at David, the man who should have defended her, yet only watched.
You know whats scarier? she whispered. I thought you loved me, that I mattered. Turns out Im just convenientcooking, cleaning, never arguing. A useful wife.
Davids eyes widened.
What are you talking about?
Its the truth. Your sister was right today. My place is the kitchen. Thats all Im needed for.
He stood abruptly. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Youre making a mountain out of a molehill.
Nothing? Emma shouted, voice cracking. They belittle me and you stay mute! Is that nothing?
Youre too sensitive! You need a sense of humour!
Emma rose, walked to the bedroom, pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe, and began packing. Her hands trembled, but she tried to stay steady.
What are you doing? David asked, standing in the doorway.
Im leaving. To my mums.
Because of a stupid remark?
Not the remark. Because you dont see me. You dont hear me.
Emma, lets talk calmly, no hysteria.
Im not hysterical. I just cant stay.
She zipped the bag and headed for the front door. David blocked her path.
You cant just walk away. Were a family.
What family, David? Yours is Mum and Alice. Im an outsider there, and here Im still an outsider.
She slipped past him and out of the flat. He didnt follow.
Her mother met her at the doorstep, eyes wide.
Emma dear, whats happened? Why are you alone?
Can I stay with you for a while?
Of course, love. Come in.
Her mother didnt pry. She always seemed to know when Emma needed quiet. They sat down for tea; her mother talked about neighbours, work, the garden. Emma listened, feeling the tension ease.
Mum, how did you survive so many years with Dad? Emma asked suddenly.
Her mother thought a moment.
In a marriage, respect is the foundation. Love can come and go, but respect must stay. Your father always listened to me, defended me when needed.
And if he didnt?
Then it isnt a marriage, its torment. You shouldnt be a servant in your own home.
Emma nodded. Shed heard it before, but hearing it from her own mother felt different.
David called the next day. She let it ring. Later a text arrived: Emma, come home. Lets talk. She didnt reply.
A week passed. Emma went to work, returned to her mothers, tried to untangle her feelings. Anger dulled, fatigue remained, and the realization that things could not stay as they were settled in.
David turned up on a Saturday, rang the doorbell. Her mother opened.
Can I speak with Emma? she asked.
Emma was called in. They sat opposite each other; David looked tired, eyes shadowed, a few dark circles under them.
Ive missed you, he said simply.
Ive missed you too, Emma admitted, but it doesnt change anything.
What do you want from me?
To see me. To hear me. To stand up for me when needed. To be your wife, not just the kitchen hand.
David stayed silent, then nodded slowly.
I get it. I was wrong. I thought staying between you and them would help, but I let you handle it alone.
But I didnt handle it, Emma said. I kept quiet, thinking it was fine.
Forgive me, he whispered. Really forgive me.
I dont need apologies. I need change.
What exactly?
Emma took a deep breath.
I wont come to your parents every weekend. Once a month max. And if your mum or sister insult me, you stop them. Not I have to defend myself, you defend me.
Deal.
And Im done being silent. Ill speak my mind. If you dont like it, tell me now.
David managed a small smile, the first in a long while.
Talk to me. Im curious how you are when youre not quiet.
Seriously?
Seriously. I like it when youre angry, eyes bright.
Emma let out a genuine laugh.
Ill come back home. But if this pattern repeats, Ill leave for good.
I wont let it happen, David said firmly. Promise.
They left together. The house was empty, quiet. Emma walked through each room as if seeing them anew, feeling ownership, a right to belong.
A month later David really did change. He asked for her opinions more often, pushed back when Helen demanded a weekend visit, and even refused the call that would have forced them back to the parents house. Helen was annoyed but kept quiet.
When they finally visited the parents three weeks later, the lunch was calmer. Helen tried to critique the stew again, but David steered the conversation elsewhere. Alice sat a little apart, her expression softer.
After lunch, Emma was drying dishes when Alice entered the kitchen.
I wanted to apologise, Alice began, hesitant.
For what? Emma asked, wiping her hands on a towel.
For the photo comment. David scolded me afterwards. He said I was out of line.
You were out of line.
Alice nodded.
Its hard accepting that Davids life now includes another family. We were always close, and suddenly you appeared.
I didnt take his brother away. I just love him.
I know. I was selfish, wanting things to stay as they were.
Nothing stays the same forever. We grow, we change, we form our own families.
Alice smiled sadly.
Youre right. Im sorry, truly.
I forgive you. Just dont do it again.
Alice left, and the living room settled into its ordinary rhythm.
Mom, lets take a family photo, Alice suggested later. We still dont have one.
Helen set her magazine aside.
Good idea.
Alice pulled out her phone, switched to the camera.
Emma, stand here with David. Mum, sit in the armchair. Ill take the edge.
Emma stepped forward, David slipped an arm around her shoulders. Alice aimed, said, Smile! One, two, three!
The shutter clicked. She reviewed the screen, a smile spreading. It truly looked like a family. For the first time in a long while Emma felt she belongednot as a servant, but as a full member.
On the drive home she stared out the window, musing on how much had shifted in a month. She had learned to speak, to defend herself. David learned to listen. Even Alice and Helen had become more careful.
What are you thinking about? David asked, glancing at her.
That sometimes you have to walk away for people to finally hear you.
I heard you. I wont lose you again.
Emma smiled. Ahead lay more work on their relationship, but now they were truly together.
Back at home, over tea in the kitchen, David asked, Will you ever be quiet again?
No, Emma replied. Ready?
Ready.
And surprise me.
She laughed, a real, bright laugh, because at last she believed she had the right to be herself, to have a voice, and a place not only in the kitchen but also in the family portrait.
