When are you two finally going to buy a proper flat? Margarets voice was sharp, insistent. She perched on the sofa in the one-bedroom flat that Emily and James had been renting for the past three years, glaring at her daughter as if shed committed some unforgivable crime.
How much longer are you going to waste money on rent?
Emily sighed and turned toward the window. These conversations had stopped being merely unpleasanttheyd become torture. Ever since shed married James, her mum had been relentless. Shed picked the wrong man. James had no property, no real savings, nothing to his name. What was the point of a husband like that? And for three solid years, Margaret had grilled herwhen would they buy their own place? Why were they still renting? Werent they ashamed of living like this?
Anger simmered under Emilys ribs, ready to boil over.
Were looking for the right place, Mum, she said finally, keeping her voice steady. Somewhere in the right area, at the right price, with decent work already done. We need something move-in ready because we dont have extra cash for renovations. Understand?
Margaret scoffed and rolled her eyes so dramatically that Emily clenched her fists.
Of course, her mum drawled, dripping with sarcasm. If youd married a proper man, youd be rolling in it, not scraping for some dingy little flat. Youd be looking at new builds, not settling for leftovers.
Emily stood abruptly, biting back the urge to shout.
Ive got errands to run, Mum, she said flatly, heading for the door.
Margaret called something after her, but Emily wasnt listening. She walked her mum out, shut the door, and leaned back against it, exhaling hard. Only then did she realise how tense shed beenher shoulders ached, her jaw sore from clenching. Lately, every conversation with her mother left her with a headache. Every visit felt like preparing for battledefending, justifying, arguing. And all for nothing.
She went to the kitchen, poured herself water from the jug, and sat at the table, sipping slowly, trying to steady herself. Then her phone rang.
Em! Jamess voice was electric. Ive found it. The perfect flat! You need to get here, now. Ill text you the address. We have to move fastthis is our chance!
Emilys heart raced. She scribbled down the address, grabbed her coat, and dashed outside, hailing the first taxi she saw. The whole ride, she fidgeted, glancing out the window, willing the driver to go faster.
James was waiting outside the building, face glowing, eyes bright.
Come on, youve got to see this, he said, taking her hand and leading her inside.
The flat was on the third floora two-bed, cosy and compact. Freshly done up, light and airy. Warm beige walls, wood-effect laminate, double-glazed windows. The owners were leaving the furnituresofa, wardrobes, kitchen unitsall clean, all well-kept.
Look, James said, guiding her through each room. Bedroom here, living room here. Kitchen gets great light. And the best part? Shops, bus stops, a school nearbyeverything we need. Price is fair, too. Owners need a quick saletheyre relocating. Weve hit the jackpot.
Emily wandered silently, running her fingers over the walls, peering into cupboards. A warm feeling spread through her chest. This was *their* flat. She could already picture them heremornings over tea, evenings curled up together.
So? James asked softly, hope in his eyes.
Yes, she smiled, and he pulled her into a hug.
They sealed the deal right there. Discussed the details, set a date to sign the papers. Then, giddy with excitement, they headed home. James chattered the whole way about paint colours, furniture, little changes theyd make. Emily stayed quiet, but she was smiling. Joy bubbled inside her so fiercely she wanted to scream, dance, jump for it.
The next few weeks were a blurpaperwork, packing, endless trips between the old flat and the new. James handled most of the logistics, and Emily was grateful. Finally, moving day arrived. Boxes were hauled, furniture arranged, belongings unpacked. And thentheir first night in their own home.
Emily stood in the middle of the living room, just taking it all in. James came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
Our flat, he whispered in her ear.
Our home, she said, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
But the joy didnt last. The very next day, the doorbell rang. Emily opened itMargaret stood there, disapproval etched into every line of her face.
Hello, she muttered, brushing past without waiting for an invitation.
She prowled through the flat, inspecting every corner, brows furrowed, lips pursed. Finally, she stopped in the middle of the living room and demanded, voice thick with disappointment:
And *this* is it?
Emily blinked. What do you mean?
Margaret wrinkled her nose as if shed stepped into a landfill instead of a flat. Her eyes flicked over the walls, the ceiling, the windows.
Its tiny. And cheap, she declared. I thought youd at least get a three-bed. This isnt even a proper two-bedits a glorified studio! A shoebox wouldve been bigger. Is this really how you want to live?
Emilys face burned. Hurt and fury twisted inside her.
James appeared thenhed clearly heard everything. He tried to smooth things over.
Margaret, its our first place, he said gently. Well save up, maybe move somewhere bigger later. But for now, its enough. Were happy.
Margaret huffed, grabbed her bag, and marched to the door. On the threshold, she turned and spat at Emily:
This flat sums up your husband perfectly. Pathetic, dull, and worthless. Just like him.
The door slammed. Emily stood frozen, her mothers words echoing in her skull, scraping at her insides. She prayed James hadnt heard. But when she turned, he was watching her with a sad smile.
Its fine, he murmured. Dont let it get to you.
But she saw the hurt in his eyes. And it broke her heart.
Time passed. They settled in, made the place their own. Emily filled the windowsills with plants, hung pictures, bought little trinkets that made the space feel like home.
But a few weeks later, Margaret dropped by again. James, hearing her voice, vanished into the bedroom. Emily led her mum to the kitchen, put the kettle on.
You know, Margaret began the second she sat down, every time I see this place, it puts me in a foul mood. Why on earth did you buy this dump? Explain it to me.
Emily set out the cups, forcing calm into her hands.
Its what we could afford, Mum.
Because you rushed into marrying *James*! Margaret snapped, voice rising. Thats why youre stuck like this. Normal people buy proper homesnot this hovel.
Emily sat down, gripping her cup. The porcelain burned her palms.
We *are* happy, she said quietly but firmly. We saved for this. No loans, no debts. We did it ourselves. Whats your problem?
Margaret nearly shrieked:
My neighbours daughter lives in a three-bed new build! Doesnt even work, drives a Mercedes! Because she married a *real* mannot some dead weight like your James!
Something inside Emily snapped. She slammed her cup down. No more. Three years of biting her tongue, swallowing the insultsenough.
Oh, brilliant comparison! Her voice shook with rage. Never mind that her daughters filed for divorce *three times*! That shes hidden bruises from her *real man*! That she only stays for the moneythats fine, is it?
Margaret tried to cut in, but Emily wasnt done.
I *love* James! she shouted, jumping to her feet. Im *happy* with him. Id live under a bridge if it meant being by his sidebecause he loves me too. Hed never raise a hand to me. Never make me feel small. And thats worth more than any flat, any car, any *money*. If you cant accept that, then dont bother coming back!
Margaret gaped, face pale, then red. She snatched her bag and stormed out without another word. The front door crashed shut.
Silence settled over the flat. Emily trembled, trying to catch her breath.
Then the bedroom door opened. James stepped out and wordlessly pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and sobbedgreat, heaving cries, clutching his shirt like an anchor.
Im sorry, she gasped. Sorry for her. Sorry she says those things.
