**Diary Entry 10th October**
Ill never forget the day Emily came home from the maternity ward. There, in our kitchen, stood a second fridge. *”This ones mine and Mumskeep your food out of it,”* my husband David said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Emily shouldered open the front door, clutching little Noahs swaddle tight against her chest. The October wind had snuck under her coat, leaving her desperate for warmth and quiet. The hospital was behind her; ahead lay homethe flat shed inherited from her grandmother, the one shed put in her name before the wedding. Every crack in the ceiling, every scuff on the floorboards was familiar. This was where she was supposed to feel safe.
David barged in first, kicked off his shoes, and dumped his coat on the hallway floor. Emily stepped insideand froze. Something was off. The air smelled wrong. Not her lavender hand cream, not her perfume. Something floral, sharp, unfamiliar.
*”Come on, stop dawdling,”* David tossed over his shoulder without looking back.
She eased off her shoes and moved down the corridor. The living room was dim. A strange, rose-embroidered cushion lay on the sofa. A vase of plastic flowers sat on the coffee tabledefinitely new.
In the kitchen, clattering greeted her. By the stove stood Margaret, her mother-in-law, in an apron, stirring a pot with gusto. Hair set, pearls around her neck, lipstick perfectlike she was hosting a dinner party, not welcoming her daughter-in-law home with a newborn.
*”Oh, Emily! Finally!”* Margaret chirped, not leaving the stove. *”Let me see the baby. Bring him here!”*
Emily stepped forwardthen stopped. Opposite the old fridge stood another: gleaming silver, factory stickers still on the handle.
*”Wheres this from?”* Emily asked, uneasy.
Margaret turned, wiped her hands on her apron, and smiled like shed just bestowed a gift. *”We bought it! David helped me pick it outplenty of space. No more crowding. You understand, dont you? With the baby and all.”*
*”We?”* Emilys voice tightened.
*”Well, me, of course!”* Margaret tapped the wooden spoon against the pot. *”Im moving in to help. Didnt David tell you?”*
Emilys face went pale. Noah squirmed in her arms. She held him closer.
*”David?”* she called toward the door.
He walked in, two grocery bags in hand, exhaustion etched into his face. *”What?”*
*”Your mum says shes living here now.”*
David shrugged like shed asked if they were out of milk. *”Course she is. Youll need the help. Shes staying awhile, till youre back on your feet.”*
*”Awhile?”* Emilys brow furrowed. *”And the fridge?”*
*”Oh, that.”* He set the bags down. *”Mum bought it for her special diet. Her food needs to stay separate.”*
*”Her special diet,”* Emily repeated slowly. *”In my flat.”*
*”Em, dont start. Im knackered. Shes only trying to help.”*
Margaret proudly unloaded yoghurts, cottage cheese, labelled jars into *her* fridge. *”See? Now everyones got their own space. No more arguments.”*
Emily wanted to speak, but Noah wailedhungry, needing changing, needing sleep. Her head throbbed. The questions could wait.
*”Ill handle him,”* Margaret waved her off. *”You rest.”*
Emily retreated to the bedroom. More changes: foreign lotions on the dresser, a bathrobe tossed over the chair. Not hers.
*”David,”* she said quietly, sinking onto the bed.
He appeared in the doorway. *”What now?”*
*”Why are your mums things in our room?”*
*”Shes on the sofa, but her stuffs in here so its not in the way. Whats the big deal?”*
*”The big deal is this is my home.”*
David sighed like she was nitpicking. *”Shes here to help, and youre picking fights over nothing.”*
Noah fed, slept. Emilys thoughts churned. Shed left *her* flat, just her and David. Returned to what? A shared house with rules she hadnt agreed to?
In the kitchen, Margaret sipped coffee, flipping through a magazine. *”Asleep? Good. Routines key from day one.”*
Emily opened the old fridge. Nearly emptymilk, a bit of cheese, eggs. The chicken, vegetables, juicesgone.
*”Margaret, wheres the food?”*
*”What food, love?”*
*”The groceries. The chicken, the”*
*”Oh, those.”* Margaret took a sip. *”Tossed them. Smelled off. Didnt want you poisoned.”*
Emily stiffened. *”You threw out my food?”*
*”David,”* she said, ice-calm, *”we need to talk.”*
He followed her to the bedroom.
*”Explain this,”* she whispered. *”Your mums acting like she owns the place.”*
*”Shes not! Shes helping!”*
*”Helping?”* Emily folded her arms. *”By tossing my things, moving in unasked?”*
*”Em, you said youd need help! I sorted it!”*
*”Without asking me?”*
*”When? Your phone died at the hospital!”*
Emily stared. *”So she just invited herself? Brought a fridge?”*
David rubbed his temples. *”Her neighbours were noisy. Seemed perfect timing.”*
*”Perfect.”* Emilys voice cracked. *”She gets away from them, controls us instead.”*
*”Christ, Em! Shes trying to help!”*
Noah fussed. Emily hushed him, exhaustion winning. The fight drained out of her.
But the next morning, she woke to clattering. Margaret was cooking at dawn, bacon sizzling.
*”Could you cook later?”* Emily asked. *”The smells wake Noah.”*
Margaret turned off the hob. *”David leaves at eight. He needs breakfast.”*
*”He can heat leftovers.”*
*”Leftovers?”* Margarets lips thinned. *”Youd feed my son yesterdays food?”*
Emily exhaled. *”Im just asking”*
*”No. A mother cooks fresh.”*
Later, Emily found Margarets meals crammed into *her* fridge.
*”Keep your things in *your* fridge,”* she said firmly.
Margaret gasped. *”After all Ive done? Ungrateful girl!”*
David came home furious. *”Mums crying! Youre kicking her out over a *fridge*?”*
*”No. Im setting boundaries.”*
*”Boundaries?”* He scoffed. *”Its family!”*
A week passed. Margaret held court, hosted friends, took over. Emily felt like a guest.
One night, after Noah slept, she texted a solicitor.
Monday, she met her. *”The flats yours,”* the woman said. *”You can ask them to leave.”*
Emily returned, moved Margarets groceries to the silver fridge.
*”What are you doing?”* Margaret snapped.
*”Respecting my space.”*
Margaret stormed out, called David. He arrived livid.
*”Choose,”* Emily said. *”Her or me.”*
David left, slamming the door.
The next morning, workers hauled the silver fridge away.
Noah gurgled in Emilys arms. The flat was quiet. Hers.
A week later, David returned. *”I was wrong,”* he admitted. *”Mum overstepped. I shouldve listened.”*
Emily nodded. *”If we argue, we solve it. No parents. Just us.”*
He agreed.
That night, they drank tea in the kitchen. Noah slept. Snow fell outside. The old fridge hummedjust the two of them now, no intruders.
Emily leaned into David. *”You finally heard me.”*
*”Better late than never,”* he murmured.
And for the first time in weeks, she breathed easy. The flat was hers again. The rules were hers. And no oneno onewould take that from her again.
**Lesson learned:** Home isnt just walls. Its where you decide who stays.
