**13th June, 2024**
*”When are you two finally going to buy a proper flat?”* Mum’s voice was sharp, insistent. She sat on the sofa in the cramped one-bed wed been renting for the past three years, staring at Emily as if shed committed a crime.
*”How much longer will you put up with this?”*
Emily sighed and turned to the window. These conversations had stopped being merely unpleasanttheyd become torture. Ever since she married James, Mum had been relentless. He wasnt good enough. No house, no savings, nothing. Why had Emily settled for him? For three years, Mum had hounded them: *When will you buy? Why rent like this? Arent you ashamed?*
Irritation burned in my chest, ready to erupt.
*”Were looking for the right place, Mum,”* Emily finally said, keeping her voice steady. *”Location, price, condition. We need something move-in readywe cant afford renovations.”*
Mum scoffed, rolling her eyes so dramatically Emilys fists clenched.
*”Of course,”* she drawled, voice dripping with scorn. *”If youd married a proper man, youd be living in luxurynot scraping for cheap flats. Youd be in a new-build. Instead? Left with scraps.”*
Emily stood abruptly, fighting the urge to shout.
*”Ive got errands,”* she muttered, heading for the door.
Mum kept talking, but Emily didnt listen. She walked her out, shut the door, and leaned against it. Exhaled. Only then did she realise how tense shed beenshoulders aching, jaw sore from gritted her teeth. Lately, every visit from Mum felt like a battle. Defending, justifying, arguing. Pointless.
She poured a glass of water at the kitchen counter, trying to steady herself. Then the phone rang.
*”Em!”* James’ voice crackled with excitement. *”Ive found itthe perfect flat! Meet me at the address Ill text. We need to move fast!”*
Her pulse leapt. She scribbled the details, threw on her coat, and hailed a cab. The whole ride, she fidgeted, willing the driver to go faster.
James waited by the building, face alight. *”Come onyoull love it.”*
Third floor. A modest two-bed, freshly painted, warm laminate underfoot. A tidy kitchen, decent furniture left behind. Quiet street, shops nearby.
*”Look,”* James guided her through. *”Bedroom here, living room there. And the pricesellers need a quick sale. Lucks on our side.”*
Emily traced the walls, heart swelling. This was *theirs*. She could picture mornings here, tea at the kitchen table, their lives unfolding within these walls.
*”Take it?”* James asked, hopeful.
*”Take it.”* She smiled, and he pulled her into a hug.
They sealed the deal that afternoon, giddy all the way home. James chattered about furniture, paint colours. Emily stayed quiet, but joy fizzed inside herso fierce she wanted to shout.
The weeks blurred into paperwork, packing, moving. James handled most of it. Finally, their first night. Emily stood in the empty living room, taking it in. James wrapped his arms around her.
*”Our home,”* he whispered.
*”Ours,”* she echoed, tears slipping free.
But the peace didnt last. The next day, the doorbell rang. Mum stood there, lips pursed.
*”Hello,”* she grunted, barging past.
She inspected every inch, nose wrinkled as if smelling something foul. Then she turned, disdain sharp in her voice:
*”This is it?”*
Emily stiffened. *”What do you mean?”*
*”Its tiny. Cheap. I thought youd at least get a three-bed. This? Barely fit for a dog.”*
James entered, forcing a smile. *”Its our first step. Well upgrade later.”*
Mum snorted, grabbing her bag. At the door, she shot Emily a parting barb:
*”This flat sums up your husbandpathetic and small. Just like him.”*
The slam echoed. Emily stood frozen, James sad smile cutting deeper than any insult.
Weeks passed. They settled in, made it theirs. But Mum returned, voice sour as ever:
*”This place depresses me. Why buy this hovel? A *proper* man wouldve given you better.”*
Emilys grip tightened on her teacup. *”Were happy.”*
*”Happy?”* Mum sneered. *”My neighbours daughter has a three-bed new-build! Doesnt even work! Because she married a *real* man!”*
Something snapped. Emily slammed her cup down.
*”That real man? Hes been reported for abuse *three times*. She stays for the money. Is *that* what you want for me?”*
Mum gaped, but Emily wasnt done.
*”I *love* James. Id live under a bridge with himbecause he loves me. Hed never hurt me. That matters more than any flat.”*
Mum left without a word.
Silence. Then James held her as she sobbed into his shirt.
*”Shh,”* he murmured. *”Id live anywhere with you. Truly.”*
She looked up, tear-streaked, and smiled. They werent rich. No fancy cars, no sprawling flats. But they had lovereal, unwavering. And that was everything.
**Lesson today:** A home isnt made by bricks, but by the hands and hearts within it. Money can’t buy what weve built.
