The air in the small rented flat was heavy with tension as Margaret Harrington perched stiffly on the sofa, her sharp gaze boring into her daughter.
“When will you two finally buy a proper flat?” Her voice cut like a blade, insistent and unyielding.
Emma Whitaker sighed, turning toward the window to avoid her mother’s stare. These conversations had long ceased being merely unpleasantthey were torture. Ever since she’d married Daniel, her mother had never let up. He was the wrong choice, she insisted. No property, no proper savings, nothing. Why settle for a man like that? And for three solid years, Margaret had hounded themwhen would they stop renting? Weren’t they ashamed?
Irritation burned beneath Emmas ribs, threatening to erupt.
“We’re looking for the right place, Mum,” she answered, forcing calm into her voice. “The right area, the right price, something with decent finishes. We need an older flat thats already done upwe cant afford renovations. Do you understand?”
Margaret scoffed, rolling her eyes so dramatically Emma clenched her fists.
“Of course,” her mother drawled, dripping with sarcasm. “If youd married properly, youd be living in luxury, not scraping for second-rate flats. You couldve had a new-build. But no. Left picking at scraps.”
Emma shot up, barely suppressing the urge to scream.
“Ive got things to do, Mum,” she clipped out, striding toward the door.
Margaret called something after her, but Emma didnt listen. She ushered her mother out, shut the door, and leaned against it, exhaling hard. Only then did she realise how tense shed beenshoulders aching, jaw sore from gritting her teeth. Lately, every visit from her mother felt like stepping onto a battlefield. Defending, justifying, arguing. All for nothing.
She went to the kitchen, poured herself water from the pitcher. Sat at the table, sipping, trying to steady herself. Thenher phone rang.
“Em!” Daniels voice was electric. “Ive found itthe perfect flat! You need to come now, right now! This is our chance!”
Her pulse leapt. She scribbled the address, grabbed her coat, and dashed for a cab. The whole ride, she fidgeted, urging the driver in her mind to go faster.
Daniel was waiting outside the building, eyes alight.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand.
The flat was on the third floor. Two bedrooms. Small, but cosy. Fresh paint, light walls, laminate flooring. The furniture stayedsofa, wardrobes, kitchen units. Everything clean, cared for.
“Look,” Daniel led her through each room. “Bedroom here, living room here. Bright kitchen. And the best partshops, bus stops, schools nearby. Everything we need. The price is fair. The sellers need a quick salethey’re relocating. This is it, Em.”
Emma wandered silently, touching walls, peering into cupboards. Warmth spread through her chest. This was theirs. She could already picture mornings at the kitchen table, their things in place, their life unfolding here.
“Should we take it?” Daniel asked softly, hope in his eyes.
“Well take it,” she smiled, and he pulled her into an embrace.
They agreed terms on the spot, set a date for signing. On the way home, Daniel bubbled with planshow theyd arrange things, what theyd need. Emma stayed quiet, but her heart sang.
The next weeks blurredpaperwork, packing, endless logistics. Daniel handled most of it. Then, moving day. Boxes hauled, furniture arranged. Their first evening in their own home.
Emma stood in the middle of the living room, just taking it in. Daniel came up behind her, arms around her shoulders.
“Our flat,” he whispered.
“Our home,” Emma saidand burst into tears.
The joy didnt last.
The next day, the doorbell rang. Margaret stood there, disapproval etched into her face.
“Hello,” she muttered, brushing past without waiting.
She inspected the flat slowly, nose wrinkling as if smelling something foul. Finally, she turned.
“And this is it?”
Emma blinked. “What do you mean?”
Margarets lip curled. “This tiny, shabby thing? I thought youd at least get a three-bed. This isnt even a proper two-bedits a glorified studio! A shoebox would be bigger. Is this really how people live?”
Emmas face burned. Humiliation and fury coiled inside her.
Daniel appeared, having heard everything. “Margaret, its our first place,” he said gently. “Well save, maybe move up later. For now, were happy.”
Margaret scoffed, snatched up her handbag. At the door, she shot back:
“This flat is just like your husband. Useless, dull, and pitiful.”
The door slammed. Emma stood frozen, her mothers words clawing at her. She turnedDaniel watched her with a sad smile.
“Dont mind her,” he murmured.
But she saw the hurt in his eyes.
Weeks passed. They settled in. The flat became homeflowers on the windowsills, pictures hung, little touches of warmth.
Then Margaret returned. Daniel vanished into the bedroom. Emma put the kettle on.
“Every time I see this place,” Margaret began, “it makes me ill. Why on earth did you buy this dump?”
Emma set out teacups, hands steady. “Its what we could afford, Mum.”
“Because you married Daniel!” Margaret snapped. “Proper people buy proper flats. You? Youre stuck in this hovel.”
Emma sat, gripping her cup. The heat bit into her palms.
“Were happy,” she said firmly. “We saved, no loans, no debt. Whats your problem?”
Margarets voice rose to a shriek. “My neighbours daughter lives in a three-bed new-build! Doesnt work, drives a Mercedes! Because she married a real mannot like your Daniel!”
Something in Emma snapped.
“Brilliant comparison!” Her voice shook with rage. “Never mind that her husbands been arrested twice! That she hides bruises! That she stays for the money!”
Margaret tried to interrupt. Emma didnt let her.
“I love Daniel!” she shouted, surging to her feet. “Id live under a bridge with him if I had to. Because he loves me. Hed never raise a hand to me. That matters more than cars, flats, or money. And if you cant accept thatdont come back!”
Margaret gaped. Face pale, then scarlet. She grabbed her bag and stormed out.
Silence.
The bedroom door opened. Daniel hugged her. Emma buried her face in his chest and sobbed.
“Im sorry,” she choked out. “For her. For what she says. Im sorry”
Daniel stroked her hair. “Shh. Its all right. Id live under a bridge with you too.”
Emma looked up, smiling through tears.
No, they werent rich. No three-bed new-build, no fancy car.
But they had each other.
And that was everything.
