Margaret and Edward were sitting down to supper when the front door flew open and his mother, Eleanor Whitmore, burst into their London flat.
“Son! You’re about to learn a thing or two about your wife!” she declared from the threshold, her face flushed.
“Mum, sit down, catch your breath. You’re red as a beet—your blood pressure must be through the roof,” Edward fussed.
“And no wonder!” his mother shot back, turning sharply to her daughter-in-law. “I ran into Charlotte today—you know, the one you work with—and she told me everything!”
“What exactly?” Margaret asked calmly, meeting Eleanor’s gaze.
“That you got a promotion last year and now earn half again what Edward does! And he had no idea! You’ve been hiding it!” The words tumbled out, laced with indignation.
“What’s the issue, Eleanor? We’ve never asked you for money. We manage just fine. What’s the problem?”
“When I asked you both to chip in for the roof repairs on the cottage this spring, you claimed you were strapped. Turns out you’ve had the means all along! Where’s that money, then? Saving up for a divorce, are you?”
Margaret stood and turned to her husband.
“Edward, fetch the red folder from the top drawer in the bedroom, please.”
He obeyed without a word.
“What’s this?” he asked, flipping it open. “Savings accounts?”
“Yes. For Oliver and Amelia. I’ve been setting aside a bit of my wages each month—for their future. When I realised I was only ever temporary in your family, I had to think about protecting my children.”
“What do you mean, ‘temporary’?” Edward cut in.
“You don’t remember how the flat your parents bought you—with the money from selling their townhouse in Mayfair—was put in your name alone? Because ‘just in case things go south.’ You didn’t say a word. Not one. I was pregnant. You knew. And you stayed silent. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I’d forget?”
Edward let out a heavy sigh. His mother interjected, “It was a precaution!”
“Against whom? The mother of your grandchildren?” Margaret’s voice trembled. “And then you wonder why I keep my distance?”
“Where’s the money, Margaret?” Eleanor pressed. “You’re not putting it into the household—so it must be your escape fund. You’re planning to leave.”
“Edward, please see your mother out. We’ve nothing left to say to each other,” Margaret said, her tone steady.
“Fine! I’ll go! But mark my words—you’ll be the one to break this family!” Eleanor snapped. Yet at the door, she hesitated. “Though… you were never really equals from the start.”
When the door clicked shut, Edward stood in silence for a long moment.
“Did you really think I was keeping an exit plan?” he asked quietly.
“I didn’t know what to think. Because you never spoke. And silence is an answer too.”
“I don’t want a divorce. I love you. And the children.”
“Then prove it. Show me I’m not a stranger in my own home.”
“All right. I’ll transfer the flat into Amelia’s name. And I’ll start putting money aside for the children’s accounts—bit by bit, but regularly. Trust goes both ways.”
Margaret gave a slow nod.
“And the word ‘divorce’ is banned in this house,” Edward added.
“Agreed.”
For the first time in years, they didn’t feel like flatmates sharing a roof—but like family.
