**Diary Entry**
*No, Mum. You wont be visiting us anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, and not next year.*
I spent ages wondering how to start this, but only two words kept appearing: audacity and silent complicity. One from my mother-in-law, the other from my husband. And in betweenme. A woman trying to be good, restrained, and polite. Until the day I realised that if I stayed silent, nothing would remain of *our* home but an empty shell.
I couldnt fathom how someone could walk into another persons house and take what wasnt theirsas if everything belonged to them. Thats exactly what my mother-in-law did. And all for her daughter. My husbands sister.
Every visit ended with meat vanishing from the freezer, a pot of meatballs disappearing from the stove, or even my brand-new straightenersunusedsnatched away. Because, as she later put it, *”Charlottes hair is so curly, and you never go out anyway.”*
I endured it. Until the final test of patience came just before our fifth wedding anniversary. Wed planned a proper celebrationdinner at a restaurant, like old times. Id already picked out a dress but needed the right shoes. So I bought them. Gorgeous, expensive ones Id dreamed of since last summer. I left them in their box in the bedroom, saving them for the big day.
But nothing went to plan.
That day, I was held up at work and asked my husband to collect our daughter from nursery. He agreed. Then something came up for him too, so he rang his mother. He gave her our key to fetch Emily and wait at ours.
When I got home, I went straight to the bedroomand froze. The shoebox was gone.
“James, where are my new shoes?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“How should I know?” He shrugged.
“Was your mum here?”
“Yes, she picked up Emily and waited a bit.”
“And the key?” I forced myself to stay calm.
“I gave it to her. What else could I do?”
I picked up the phone and called her. She answered straight away.
“Good evening,” I began, measured. “Im sure you know why Im calling.”
“No, I dont,” she replied without a hint of shame.
“Where are my new shoes?”
“I gave them to Charlotte. Youve got too many shoes anyway. She had nothing for her prom.”
With that, she simply hung up. No remorse. No apology. Justclick.
My husband, as always, said, “Well buy you another pair, dont make a fuss. Its only Mum.”
I stood, took his arm, and marched him to the shopping centre. There, I pointed at the very pair Id been eyeing online for monthsshoes that nearly gave him a heart attack at the price.
“Sophie, thats half my wages!” he spluttered, staring at the tag.
“You said wed buy some. So we will,” I replied coolly.
He bought them. Paid, in a way, for his silence.
But it didnt end there. On the way home, his phone buzzed with a message from his mother:
*”Coming round tonight. Bags of veg, no room in my freezer. Ill leave them at yours, fetch them in a month or two.”*
I watched his facethe way his lips pressed tight. Then, for the first time ever, he dialled her number and said firmly,
“Mum, youre not coming over. Not today, not tomorrow, not in a year. Because your last favour cost us too much.”
He hung up. And when I looked at him, I felt, for the first time in years, that we were truly a family. One whose doors werent open to thievesonly to those whod earned respect.
