My husband and I are happily married, you know?
We actually met back at university. Honestly, I never pictured settling down thereI always wanted to head back to my hometown. With my expertise, I knew Id be the go-to person there, almost a local celebrity. I specialise in heart conditions, but not for humansmy patients are pets! Cats, dogs, even the occasional cow. We dont have loads of wealthy clients running in, but they do turn up, and even folks who arent rolling in money will rush to the vet for their animals.
My husbands a vet as well, but hes a real whiz at diagnostics. I poked around the local clinics, and its pretty much the same everywhere. Most only tackle basic things like spaying or vaccinationsnever the tricky stuff, because it doesnt bring much cash in.
So, together, we opened a clinic that takes on challenging cases and offers top-notch diagnostics. We do a bit of research too, helping out fellow vets. We’re a proper team, and its been brilliant for us.
Moneys good but we never charge sky-high prices. That keeps a steady flow of clients coming in. Weve already bought our own flat and hired some assistants, so Im not sleeping at work anymore! I actually have time for the kids and looking after the house now.
But my husband’s parents? Theyre still not happy with me.
Turns out, theyre gutted that he moved to my hometown. Theyve always hoped hed come back and shift our whole life and the clinic over to London. I really dont get ittheyve got two daughters who still live nearby, so theyre actually not short of family around them. Weve even helped his sisters out with deposit money for their flats!
As for me, Im always respectful and polite towards his folks.
Only, his parents havent quite mastered the idea of boundaries or personal space.
So, his dad calls me up today: Lets meet tonight at seven. Then he says hell come pick me up.
Its already five in the afternoonso Im told, Hurry up. Alright, I need to collect the little one, sort out my assistant whos kindly agreed to cover late, and I wont even mention my wrecked attempt at baking a cake for tonight.
On the drive, my youngest is in the back, strapped into her car seat.
My husbands tied up at the clinic, treating a wounded animalsurgery ahead. His dad absolutely refuses to let me book a cab.
So, Im stuck driving.
He starts making a fuss over the phone as hes hunting down my parked car, already ranting. I refused to get outI mean, the baby was sleeping and I wasnt about to wake her.
He climbed in, slammed the door, and immediately laid into me: You could’ve at least come outside! My daughter is sleeping, dont wake her. But his answer? Crank up the volume, shout: If you want to sleep, sleep! Doesnt matter.
Of course, my little girl wakes up and starts crying.
Did her grandad try to comfort her? Or give her a toy? Nope. Instead, I get told Ive raised unruly children, and apparently thats down to me spending my days at homeYou should be raising them, not watching telly! Mind you, working a five, sometimes ten or twelve-hour shift at the clinic apparently counts as staying at home?
But my husband? Oh, hes working, so thats different.
His dad then starts ranting that my drivings too fast, claiming Im going to get us killed. And then, just to top it off, he tells me my husband already has a fiancée waiting at homea nice young woman wholl give him well-behaved, proper children.
Meanwhile, my daughters crying, and her grandad turns round and snaps at her to quiet down while the grown-ups are talking.
So, I turned the car around.
Dropped him straight back at the train station. And it was a hearty, Goodbye. Farewell. Cheers!
Arriving home, my husband was waiting at the doorlooking utterly fed up. His dad had already filmed the whole disaster. I handed my crying child over, saying, One more word and youre going straight to Daddy. His bride is waiting for you, you knowyoull have new, well-behaved children soon enough. But for now, you need to sort things out, or Ill be the one raising my voice next.
My husband just looked away, and thats when it hit methis whole conversation was an old dance. His dads definitely not coming round our place ever again.
