“No, Mum. You wont be visiting us anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, and not next year either.” a story about finally running out of patience.
Id spent ages wondering how to start this, but only two words kept coming to mind: rudeness and silent agreement. The first from my mother-in-law, the second from my husband. And in betweenme. A woman trying to be good, patient, and polite. Until the day I realised that if I stayed quiet any longer, nothing would be left of *our* home but an empty shell.
I couldnt fathom how someone could walk into another persons house and just take what wasnt theirsas if they had a right to everything. Thats exactly what my mother-in-law did. And all for her daughter. My husbands sister.
Every time she visited, something went missingmeat from the freezer, a pot of meatballs from the stove, even my brand-new straighteners. I hadnt even used them yetshe just took them. Because, as she later explained, *”Emilys hair is so curly, and you barely go out anyway.”*
I put up with it. Until the final straw, just before our fifth wedding anniversary. Wed planned a special dinnerat a restaurant, like we used to. Id already picked out a dress but still needed the right shoes. So I bought them. Lovely, expensive ones, the pair Id been dreaming of since last summer. I left them in the box in our bedroom, ready to wear on the night.
But everything went wrong.
That day, I got stuck at work and asked my husband, James, to pick up our daughter from nursery. He agreed. Then he got held up himself and called his mum. He gave her our key so she could fetch Lily and wait at ours.
When I got home, I went straight to the bedroomand froze. The shoebox was gone.
“James, where are my new shoes?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“How should I know?” He shrugged.
“Was your mum here?”
“Yeah, she picked Lily up and stayed a bit.”
“And the key?” I forced myself to stay calm.
“I gave it to her. What else was I supposed to do?”
I picked up the phone and called her. She answered straight away.
“Good evening,” I said evenly. “Im sure you know why Im calling.”
“No, I dont,” she replied, not a hint of shame in her voice.
“Where are my new shoes?”
“I gave them to Emily. Youve got too many shoes anyway. She needed something nice for prom.”
With that, she just hung up. No remorse. No apology. Justclick.
My husband, as usual, said, “Well get you another pair, dont make a fuss. Its just Mum.”
I stood up, took his arm, and marched him to the shopping centre. There, in front of the display, I pointed at the exact pair Id been eyeing online for monthsshoes that nearly gave him a heart attack when he saw the price tag.
“Charlotte, thats half my wages!” he spluttered.
“You said wed buy some. So we are,” I replied coolly.
He bought them. Paid the price for his silence, you could say.
But it didnt end there. On the way home, he got a text from his mum:
*”Popping round later. Got bags of vegno room in my freezer. Ill leave them at yours and pick them up in a month or two.”*
I watched him stare at the screen, lips pressed tight. Then, for the first time ever, he dialled her number and said firmly:
“Mum, youre not coming round. Not today, not tomorrow, not in a year. Because your last favour cost us far too much.”
He hung up. And when I looked at him, I feltfor the first time in yearsthat we were really a family. One whose door wasnt open to thieves, but to those whod earned respect.
