I was on my way to bring dinner to my husbands ill mother when the solicitor called: Come back at once!
My husband, Thomas, had asked me to take a meal to his ailing mother. Halfway there, my solicitor, Margaret, rang with a demand that turned everything upside down. Get home NOW, she snapped. Id just baked a fresh lasagne, the sort his mother, Eleanor, always praised, when that phone call shattered the illusion Id clung to for years. What I discovered that evening revealed the darkest sides of the two people closest to me.
Once, I believed my life was secure. As a financial director at a well-paying firm, I had the independence Id always dreamed of. My accounts were settled, my fridge full, and I indulged in little luxuries now and then. It felt as though I had everything under controluntil I learned the truth about my husband.
The day that truth came to light tore apart the careful life Id built in ways I never expected.
I met Thomas eight years ago on a hiking trip arranged by mutual friends. He was the sort of man who could light up a room without even trying. I remember his easy laugh making everyone smile, even as we climbed steep hills. By the weekends end, I was certain Id met one of the most fascinating people in my life.
Yet we didnt start dating straight away.
For two years, we remained friends, exchanging letters, meeting for coffee, sharing pieces of our lives. Thomas was always cheerful and engaging, though I noticed his stubborn streak. He insisted things go his waywhether it was the restaurant we chose or weekend plans. I brushed it off as confidence. No ones perfect, after all.
Three years after that hike, Thomas and I married. I thought we were ready for the next step, though our transition from friendship to romance hadnt been without its bumps.
Yes, he could be demanding, especially about money. He often borrowed small sums, promising repayment after his next paycheck. Truthfully, it didnt bother me. I told myself it was part of building a future together.
But marriage revealed another side of Thomasone I wasnt prepared for.
Gradually, I realized his mother, Eleanor, played too large a role in his life. She was fiercely protective of him, and I often felt I was competing with her for his attention. Thomas? He always took her side in any disagreement. It irked me how he dismissed my concerns as overreactions.
Once, when I asked why her opinion mattered more than mine, he replied, Shes my mother, Emily. Shes been there my whole life. I cant just ignore her.
His words stung. I hadnt expected him to justify it, but somehow I convinced myself it wasnt a big deal. Family ties are complicated, arent they?
I kept ignoring the signs, hoping things would improve. I thought Thomas would grow out of prioritising his mother and learn to balance his loyalties.
But the cracks in our marriage only widened, and I began to doubt whether Id been naïve about love and partnership.
I wasnt ready for what lay ahead. Fate had a far crueller revelation in store.
Looking back, I should have seen the warnings with Thomas. He adored luxury but never seemed to spend his own money on it. Early in our relationship, he often borrowed from me, spinning tales about investments or lavish gifts for his mother.
Were building something together, hed say with that charming smile.
Spoiler: I never saw a penny of those so-called investments.
Meanwhile, Eleanor was another story. She had a way of making me feel Id never be good enough for her precious son. What grated most was how she found fault with every gift we gave her.
Months earlier, wed bought her a new microwave, thinking shed be pleased.
Its fine, but why isnt it the smart kind? shed sighed, rolling her eyes.
A pricey spa day we arranged? She called the masseuse dreadful.
No matter how hard I tried, Eleanor always found a way to criticise.
Still, I tried to be mature. I wanted a good relationship with herfor Thomass sake, and yes, for my own. I thought kindness might win her over. But kindness doesnt always prevail, does it?
Then there was Thomass habit with money.
His borrowing didnt stop after we married. If anything, it worsened.
It wasnt just investments. There were always reasons tied to Eleanor. Mum needs a new chair, hed say.
Or: Mums birthday is coming up. I 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 something together, even if it seemed I was the only one contributing.
The night everything changed began like any other. Eleanor was unwellor so Thomas claimed.
She hasnt eaten all day, he fretted, frowning.
That evening, we were meant to meet with an estate agent to finalise the purchase of the house wed rented for five years. It was supposed to be our big momenta dream wed worked toward for so long. I couldnt wait to sign the papers and officially call the place our own.
But Thomas seemed distracted. As we sat to review the documents, he sighed dramatically.
We need to reschedule, he said. Mums really poorly.
Reschedule? I asked. Thomas, weve waited a year for this. Cant we visit her after?
She hasnt eaten today, Emily, he repeated, his tone sharpening. Ill take care of her. Could you bring her some of your lasagne? You know how much she loves it.
What about the house? I pressed. This has to be finalised today.
Dont worry, he waved me off. Well sort it tomorrow.
Something in his tone unsettled me, but I pushed the thought aside. He was just concerned for his mother, wasnt he?
Despite our differences, Eleanor adored my lasagne. This cheesy masterpiece always earned her rare compliments.
I thought making it for her in this difficult time might ease the tension between us. So I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
As the lasagne baked, I couldnt stop thinking of the sacrifices wed made to save for the house. Wed skipped holidays, fancy dinners, worked overtimeall for this dream.
The house was meant to be our fresh start.
Legally, it was in Thomass name due to some inheritance complications, but I wasnt worried. In our country, marital property is split 50-50 in a divorce.
I trusted Thomas, though the arrangement left a faint unease in my chest.
Around six, I got into the car with the still-warm lasagne. Thomas said he had an important meeting and couldnt join me.
Twenty minutes into the drive, my phone rang. It was Margaret, my solicitor. She never called after hours unless it was urgent.
Hello? I answered. Whats wrong?
Get home NOW, she barked.
What? Margaret, whats happening?
Its Thomas, she said. Hes at the house with the estate agent. You need to come back immediately.
Whos they? I asked, already turning the car around.
Thomas and Eleanor, she said, her voice steely. Theyre signing papers to transfer the house into Eleanors name.
What on earth
Just get home now! she cut in before hanging up.
When I pulled into the drive, my hands shook so badly I could barely unbuckle my seatbelt.
Inside, the scene was worse than Id imagined.
Thomas stood in the living room with papers hed tried to hide from me. Eleanor hovered nearby, looking perfectly healthy.
The estate agent, standing awkwardly to the side, seemed to regret ever getting involved.
What is this? I demanded.
Thomas stepped forward. Darling, just listen
No, Margaret interrupted, striding in right behind me. She must have 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 into Eleanors name, she said. Your house, Emily. The one you saved for.
I stared at Thomas, unable to process what I was seeing.
Why? was all I could whisper. How could you do this?
Eleanor crossed her arms, her lips twisting into a smirk.
Its simple, she said. Thomas has always been my son first, and I have to protect his assets. You cant trust just anyone these days, you know.
I was speechless.
But thats not all, Margaret cut in. When the agent noticed this contract, I did some digging. Eleanor planned for Thomas to marry another womanher friends daughter. They intended to arrange a divorce, leave you with nothing, and move on as if youd
