**A Life in Shadows**
I first considered divorce just six months after the wedding. But then the pregnancy test showed two lines, and the thought dissolved into waves of morning sickness.
I met Edward at a bar where my old dance school friends dragged me—*just one night out, for fun*. A confident man in an expensive suit, flipping through documents at the counter, he seemed from another world.
*”Too pretty to look so sad,”* he said when my friends vanished to the loos, leaving me alone.
His voice was honeyed, smooth as aged whisky. The rest of his words blurred, but that warmth stayed with me.
Edward was eight years older, part of his family’s home-cleaning empire. I stood out there—small, wide-eyed, all wrong for the place. He liked that. Ballet dreams crushed by injury, teaching fitness to scrape by, naïve and poor—*perfect wife material*, he told his mother that night.
*”Found the girl who’ll give you grandkids.”*
Three months later, he proposed. Mum wept with joy. *”You’ll never want for anything again!”* His mother, Margaret, inspected me like prized livestock. *”Good stock. We’ll take her.”*
They arranged everything—even the wedding cake.
*”Blue frosting—our company’s colour. That alright, love?”* Margaret smiled.
I nodded. *”Whatever you think best.”*
Our honeymoon was a beach resort. On the flight, Edward warned me: *”Mum worries if I’m out of touch. Call her twice daily—and take notes. She loves details.”*
Home became a script I hadn’t written. A leather-bound notebook appeared one evening.
*”Family traditions,”* he said. Pages listed birthdays, anniversaries, Sunday roasts—*dress code: formal*. No gaps for *my* plans.
*”Your plans *are* the family’s, sweetheart,”* he laughed, ruffling my hair.
A week later, I understood fully.
*”Where are you off to?”* Edward blocked the door.
*”Massage course. We agreed—”*
*”Mum needs help at the shop today.”*
*”But I—”*
*”Are you part of this family or not?”* His grip on my chin was gentle.
By Sunday lunch, Margaret decided: *”Leave the gym. You did well yesterday—we need you on tills.”*
*”I—”*
*”You *do* want to be useful?”* She arched a brow. Edward cut his steak in silence.
That night, in the bath, I imagined running. *”I won’t be a puppet!”* I rehearsed.
Mum’s voice answered first: *”Mad! You’d trade security for *what*?”*
Then two pink lines. I stayed.
What choice was there?
***
By the second baby, I’d learned Margaret’s borscht recipe, to flinch when Edward *worked late*, and to beam *”Everything’s fine!”*
Only childhood friend Lucy saw through it.
She knew about the double receipts—one for Margaret, one for my secret lipsticks—the *forbidden* visits to my parents, the ironclad alibis needed just to meet her.
*”You’re suffocating!”* Lucy hissed over coffee. *”That job you hate—Margaret counting your till like you’re a thief!”*
*”It’s fine,”* I shrugged.
*”Your massage dreams—working with people!”*
*”That was years ago.”*
*”And Edward? Screwing anything in a skirt!”*
True. I’d caught him at Margaret’s party, *adjusting his tie* in the storeroom with a guest.
*”Means nothing,”* he’d said, handing me diamond earrings. *”You’re smarter than this.”*
Lucy gripped my wrist. *”Come live with me. Tomorrow.”*
*”No.”* I knocked over my chair.
That night, unpacking, I found her note: *”When you’re done being convenient—call. Always.”*
***
Five years on, I studied a new wrinkle in the mirror. Kids shrieked behind me; Margaret’s call buzzed. The dog barked.
Suddenly, I knew: *I* was gone. Only *the wife*, *the daughter-in-law*, *the mother* remained. The girl who dreamed of the stage, feared heights, adored strawberry cream—*erased*.
Yesterday, my daughter brought home a drawing: *”My Family.”*
*”Granny’s big, Dad’s got his watch, me and my brother… and you, Mum.”*
A tiny figure in the corner.
*”Why am I so… small?”*
*”Granny says you’re always in the shadows. Means you’re modest!”*
Alone that night, I wept. Remembered Lucy—*”Life’s too short for hell.”* The therapist she’d forced me to see once asked:
*”If you had one free day—what would you do?”*
I’d cried. I didn’t know anymore.
I never went back.
