I was halfway to my mother-in-laws house with a freshly baked lasagna when the call came. My solicitors voice was sharp, urgent. “Get home NOW.”
Earlier that evening, my husband, William, had asked me to drop off dinner for his ailing mother. It was just another errand, another small sacrifice in what I thought was a stable marriage. As the finance director of a well-paying firm, I had the independence Id always dreamed of. Bills were paid, the fridge was stocked, and I could afford little luxuries here and there. Everything seemed under controluntil I learned the truth about William.
Wed met eight years ago on a hiking trip organised by mutual friends. He was the kind of man who could light up a room without trying. That easy charm of his had everyone laughing, even as we climbed steep hills. By the weekends end, I was sure Id met one of the most fascinating people in my life.
But we didnt start dating right away.
For two years, we stayed friendstexting, meeting for coffee, sharing pieces of our lives. William was always warm and engaging, though I noticed his stubbornness. He insisted things go his way, whether it was picking a restaurant or weekend plans. I brushed it off as confidence. No ones perfect, right?
Three years after that hike, we married. I thought we were ready for the next step, though our transition from friendship to romance hadnt been smooth.
Yes, he could be pushy, especially about money. He often borrowed small sums, promising to pay me back after his next paycheck. It didnt bother me. I told myself it was part of building a future together.
But marriage revealed another side of Williamone I wasnt prepared for.
Slowly, I realised his mother, Linda, played an enormous role in his life. She was fiercely protective, and I often felt like I was competing with her for his attention. William? He always took her side. My concerns were dismissed as “overreacting.”
Once, when I asked why her opinion mattered more than mine, he said, “Shes my mum, Emily. Shes been there my whole life. I cant just ignore her.”
His words stung. I didnt expect him to justify it, but I convinced myself it wasnt a big deal. Family dynamics are complicated, arent they?
I kept ignoring the cracks, hoping things would improve. I thought William would outgrow prioritising his mother.
But the fractures only deepened, and I began questioning whether Id been naive about love and partnership.
Looking back, the warning signs were there. William loved luxury but never seemed to buy it with his own money. Early in our relationship, hed “borrow” funds, spinning tales about investments or lavish gifts for Linda.
“Were building something together,” hed say with that charming smile.
Spoiler: I never saw a penny of those “investments.”
Meanwhile, Linda was another story.
She had a knack for making me feel inadequate. No gift was ever good enough. A few months prior, we bought her a new microwave, thinking shed be pleased.
“This is fine, but why isnt it a smart one?” shed said, rolling her eyes.
An expensive spa day we treated her to? She called the masseuse dreadful.
Despite it all, I tried to be gracious. I wanted a good relationship with herfor Williams sake and mine.
Then there was Williams money habit.
His borrowing didnt stop after marriage. If anything, it worsened.
It wasnt just “investments” anymore. There were always reasons tied to Linda. “Mum needs a new chair,” hed say. Or, “Mums birthdays coming upI want to get her something special.”
And every time, I gave in.
I told myself it was just money, that compromise was part of marriage. I wanted to believe we were building a life, even if I seemed to be the only one contributing.
The night everything changed started like any other. Linda wasnt feeling wellor so William claimed.
“She hasnt eaten all day,” he said, frowning with concern.
That evening, we were supposed to meet our estate agent to finalize the purchase of the house wed been renting for five years. It was meant to be a milestonea dream wed worked toward for so long.
But William seemed distracted. As we settled to review the paperwork, he sighed dramatically.
“We need to reschedule,” he said. “Mums really unwell.”
“Reschedule?” I asked. “William, weve waited a year for this. Cant we visit her after?”
“She hasnt eaten all day, Emily,” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “I need to take care of her. Can you bring her some of your lasagna? You know how much she loves it.”
“What about the house?” I pressed. “This has to be done today.”
“Dont worry,” he said, waving me off. “Well sort it tomorrow.”
Something in his voice felt off, but I pushed the thought away. He was just worried about his mother, wasnt he?
Despite our tensions, Linda did love my lasagna. If I made it for her now, maybe it would ease things between us. So I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
As the lasagna baked, I couldnt stop thinking about the sacrifices wed made for this house. No holidays, no fancy dinners, overtime shiftsall for this dream.
This was supposed to be our fresh start.
Legally, the house was in Williams name due to some inheritance complications, but I wasnt worried. In our country, marital property was split 50-50 in a divorce.
I trusted him, though the arrangement left a small knot in my chest.
It was around 6 p.m. when I got into the car with the still-warm dish. William said he had an important meeting and couldnt come.
Twenty minutes into the drive, my phone rang. It was Sarah, my solicitor. She never called after hours unless it was urgent.
“Hello?” I answered. “Whats wrong?”
“Get home NOW,” she snapped.
“What? Sarah, whats happening?”
“Its William,” she said. “Theyre at your house with the estate agent. You need to get back immediately.”
“Whos they?” I asked, already turning the car around.
“William and Linda,” she said, her voice tight. “Theyre signing papers to transfer the house into Lindas name.”
“What”
“Just get home now!” she cut in, hanging up.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely unbuckle my seatbelt.
Inside, the scene was worse than I imagined.
William stood in the living room, papers in handones hed clearly been hiding from me. Linda stood beside him, looking perfectly healthy.
The estate agent, hovering nearby, looked deeply uncomfortable. Like she regretted ever being involved.
“Whats going on?” I demanded.
William stepped forward. “Love, listen”
“No,” Sarah interrupted, striding in right behind me. She mustve followed once I said I was on my way. “Let me explain, since you clearly cant be honest.”
Then she turned to me.
“Theyre transferring the house to Lindas name,” she said. “Your house, Emily. The one you saved for.”
I stared at William, unable to process what I was seeing.
“Why?” My voice was barely a whisper.
Linda crossed her arms, lips curling into a smug smile.
“Its simple,” she said. “William has always been my son first, and I have to protect his assets. You cant trust just anyone these days, you know.”
I was silent.
“But thats not all,” Sarah interjected. “I did some digging after the agent flagged this. Lindas been planning for William to marry someone elseher friends daughter. They were going to push for a divorce, leave you with nothing, and move on like you never existed.”
My chest tightened, the room spinning.
“You planned this with her?” I turned to William. “I trusted you, William. I gave you everything. Do you even understand what youve done?”
“Its not like that,” William stammered, unable to meet my eyes. “Mum just thought it would be better”
“Better for who?” I cut in. “You? Her? What about me, William? I built this life with you. I sacrificed for this house. For us. And you were ready to erase me like I was nothing!”
“Emily, I”
“Enough!” I shouted, shaking my head. “You dont deserve my forgiveness. You dont deserve me.”
Sarah placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dont worry, Emily. The house isnt sold yet. We have everything we need to fight this.”
As I turned to leave, a strange clarity settled over me. This wasnt the end of my lifejust the end of a bad chapter. And I was ready to start writing a better one.
The next
