**The Cottage Instead of Family**
Emily never imagined that a day which began as a celebration would become her point of no return. She and Anthony had come to his mother’s anniversary party—Margaret was practically glowing with joy, surrounded by flowers, well wishes, and attention. Every detail of the banquet had been carefully orchestrated, all for the sake of her big moment.
“And now, her son Anthony would like to say a few words!” the host announced cheerfully.
Emily, like the rest of the guests, turned toward the stage. Her husband stood, adjusted the microphone, and smiled.
“Mum, thank you for everything. And for your anniversary, I’ve got you a special gift,” he said with a sly grin.
What happened next left Emily utterly stunned. Anthony handed his mother… the deed to a cottage. Not just a card, not a token contribution, but a full-fledged property—complete with a house, a garden, a fence, and even a patio area. The room erupted in applause, and her mother-in-law burst into happy tears. Only Emily sat rigid in her seat, white as the tablecloth, gripping the armrests so hard her knuckles turned pale.
*How could you, Tony?*
She couldn’t believe it. Just that morning, as they prepared for the wretched party, she had discovered that every penny had vanished from their joint savings—money they had spent two years setting aside for their new flat. Every last pound. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask about it—Anthony dodged the subject, brushing her off with vague excuses. Now, she understood. He’d spent it all on this “gift” for his mother. Without asking her. Without discussion. Just handed it over.
That money wasn’t just his. It was their dream. Their daughter, Lily, was about to start primary school, and Emily had wanted her to have her own room, her own childhood. For that, she had worked nights, picked up extra shifts, saved every bonus, every holiday allowance… And now it had all turned into her mother-in-law’s dream—a countryside retreat with flowerbeds.
*The celebration was hers, but the shame was mine.*
Anthony was suddenly the son of the year. “Now that’s a proper lad!” the guests whispered. “What a devoted son, not like the ones these days…” the older women sniffled. Emily watched as he stood there, chin raised, and knew—there was no place for her in this family anymore. Not after this.
When she stood and walked out, no one noticed. Or pretended not to.
She walked home in the stuffy evening heat, numb. The flat was empty. Lily was staying at her grandmother’s—thank goodness. She couldn’t have cried in front of her. But now… now she could.
She pulled a bottle of sparkling wine from the fridge, flicked on the light, and for the first time in ages, let herself truly weep. No restraint. No pride. Not from anger—from sheer emptiness.
*The argument was short.*
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anthony snapped as soon as he walked in.
“Me? You’re the one who crossed the line,” Emily replied calmly. “You spent our money without asking. Made a grand show of it. Paid for your mother’s cottage instead of a home for your own family. You made this choice—now you’ll live with it.”
“Emily, don’t be dramatic. We’ll save up again. It’s not like I bought it for some stranger. It’s my *mother*! We’ll all go there, have barbecues with Lily—”
“You go ahead. But you’ll go without us. I’m filing for divorce. And I’m taking you to court. Half that money was mine, and I *will* get it back.”
Anthony stormed out. He didn’t take his things—just slammed the door. An hour later, his mother called.
“Who do you think you are? Do you really think anyone will want a single mother with a kid and a one-bedroom flat?”
Emily wiped her tears and laughed thinly.
“You should worry about who’ll want *your* son. A mummy’s boy with no spine, no will of his own, and no money left. But Lily and I? We’ll manage. And the flat? Just the beginning. We’ll get everything we need on our own. Without cottages. And *without you*.”
*Justice prevailed.*
The divorce was quick. The court ordered Anthony to repay half the money—luckily, the withdrawal date and amount were all documented. He didn’t contest the flat—the scandal had already spread, and maybe, just maybe, his conscience pricked him.
Emily, with her parents’ help, found a three-bedroom place with a top-up mortgage. Soon, she and Lily would move—into a new life, where betrayal, humiliation, and lies had no place.
Now, Anthony visits once a month to see Lily. He hovers by the door, shuffling his feet, apologising, saying he’s “learned his lesson.” But there’s no going back. Emily knows one thing too well—if a man puts his mother above his own family, he’s not a husband.
And the greatest gift she received after that cursed anniversary? Freedom. And the certainty that her daughter would grow up in a different home—where love isn’t bought with money, where a mother isn’t the boss but simply valued, and where nobody would ever spend shared dreams on someone else’s cottage.
