The front door clicked open, and Emilys stomach twisted. She knew that sharp knock of heels against the hallway floor better than her own heartbeat. At eight months pregnant, every movement was agony, and now she had to face the one person she dreaded more than labor itself. The door swung wide, and in stormed Margaret Whitmorea hurricane of disapproval in a tailored coat.
“Good heavens!” Margaret snapped instead of a greeting. “Must you always look so miserable?”
Emily had planned to rest after lunchher body demanded it nowbut the sudden arrival of her mother-in-law shattered that hope. Maternity leave had been her only respite, but in seconds, her peace was gone.
“Welcome, Margaret,” Emily murmured, stepping aside.
“Wheres my Oliver?” Margarets eyes darted around the flat, searching.
“At work,” Emily replied evenly. “Providing for usfor the baby.”
“Cant manage on your own, then?” Margaret dropped her heavy suitcases with a thud and swept past, nearly knocking Emily off balance. “Youre about to be a mother. Time to grow up!”
Once inside, Margaret inspected every corner like a sergeant on parade. Emilys pulse quickened.
“Did you come for something specific?” she ventured. “Or to take something?”
Margaret spun around, feigning surprise. “Oh, didnt I say? Im moving in.”
Emilys knees buckled.
“Buthow?” she stammered.
“That insufferable man I rented fromunbearable!” Margaret waved a hand, irritation flashing. “Couldnt stand him another day. Olivers father left me this flat, and finding a new ones impossible. So, Ill stay here.”
Emilys throat tightened. Their home was spacious, yesbut did that give Margaret the right to invade? She wanted to argue, but exhaustion swallowed her words. She retreated to the bedroom, waiting for Oliver.
But his return changed little. Pity softened his voice when he spoke of his mother. Yes, Margaret was difficult, but shed raised him. He couldnt abandon her.
Emily swallowed her protests. Maybe having her here would mean an extra pair of hands?
That hope died quickly. Within days, Margaret had seized control of the household. Oliver worked long hours, leaving Emily to navigate his mothers constant critiquesunwashed floors, crumbs on the counter, a single unrinsed cup.
“Margaret,” Emily sighed one evening, rubbing her aching back, “I can barely bend. My feet are swollen, my spine”
“Oh, spare me!” Margaret crossed her arms. “Women have endured worse! Youre not the first to bear a child. Duties dont vanish for a backache!”
Emily bit her tongue. Stress wasnt good for the baby.
Then came the shopping trip. With Oliver at work and the fridge empty, Emily had no choice but to ask for help.
“Fine, Ill come,” Margaret sniffed. “Someone has to ensure you dont bungle it.”
At the market, Margarets complaints were relentless. “Must you dawdle? Take the bags and lets go!”
Emily hesitated. “Could you carry some? The doctor said no strain”
“Ridiculous!” Margaret scoffed. “Its barely a weight!”
Emily obeyed. But halfway home, her vision blurred. A stranger rushed to steady her. “Maam, do you need an ambulance?”
“No, Ill be fine,” Emily gasped.
“Pathetic,” Margaret muttered.
Oliver, furious when he heard, raced home. “Em, love, why didnt you wait for me?”
“II thought I could manage,” she whispered.
“Did Mum refuse to help?”
Emilys breath hitched. “She made me carry them. When I nearly collapsed, she she just walked on.”
Oliver stiffened. Then, with a quiet curse, he stormed to Margarets room. Emily caught only fragments of the shouting.
Later, cradling their newborn daughter, Lily, Emily dared to hope life would brighten. But motherhood was a sleepless, relentless trialand Margarets cruelty only grew.
“Call yourself a mother?” shed sneer as Emily rocked a crying Lily for hours.
Then came the night Oliver returned silent, shoulders slumped. “Lost my job,” he muttered.
Emilys heart sank. Then Lily wailed. Duty called, even in despair.
The next morning, as they strategized, Margaret barged in. “Hear you two scheming,” she spat. “Why must *Oliver* scramble for work? Why cant *you* earn?”
Emily gaped.
“Excuse me?”
Margaret folded her arms. “Oliver takes leave. *You* get a job.”
Emilys vision swam. But this time, Oliver exploded.
“Are you *mad*?” he roared. “Shes caring for our child day and night! While youyou do *nothing* but torment her!”
Margaret recoiled. “Im protecting *you*!”
“Then *stop hurting my wife*.” Olivers voice turned icy. “Pack your things. Youre leaving.”
Margaret spluttered. “Ungrateful wretch! FineId rather live with that insufferable landlord than you!”
“Good. Go.”
Two days later, she was gone.
Oliver found new work. Emily grew steadier with Lily. And though Margaret never spoke to them again, the silence was a gift.
Better no grandmother, they agreed, than one whod poison their daughters world.
