**Diary Entry**
Emily sat in the kitchen of her new flat, flipping through an old photo album. Seven years of marriage compressed into a handful of pages. She remembered how, in the early days with William, she’d believed things would improve. Time had proved her wrong.
Margaret, her mother-in-law, had turned up at their home nearly every day—unannounced, letting herself in with the spare key William had given her “just in case.” There was always something to criticise: dinner wasn’t up to standard, the flat was untidy, or Emily worked too late. William would stay silent or change the subject, while Emily bit her tongue and endured it.
Now, settled in the flat left to her by her grandmother, Emily understood the wisdom in her words: *”Love, always keep your own place and your own income. No one can push you around then.”* For seven years, she’d tried to be the “perfect wife” by Margaret’s measure.
A knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts. There stood Margaret—straight-backed, imperious.
“What’s this nonsense, girl?” She barged past into the hallway. “William’s beside himself, and you’re sitting here doing nothing.”
“What about William?” Emily couldn’t help asking. “Why didn’t he come himself?”
“He’s busy with work, hasn’t got time for your little games. Pack your things. Enough of this silliness.”
A wave of anger rose in Emily’s chest. Seven years of this—and not once had William stood up for her.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. Enough.”
Margaret’s face twisted. “What do you mean, *no*? What about family? What about William?”
“Did William ever think of me? When you let yourselves in uninvited? When you demanded I sell my flat to fix your cottage? When you tossed out my things?”
“I was only trying to help! You were so naïve—someone had to teach you how to be a proper wife.”
“*Teach* me? You weren’t teaching. You were breaking me down. But I won’t let you anymore.”
Her phone buzzed—William. Margaret watched with a smug smile.
“Answer it,” she nearly ordered. “William will understand. He’ll forgive you. Come home, and we’ll put this behind us.”
Emily slipped the phone into her pocket.
“You know, Margaret,” she said evenly, “I’ve made up my mind. I won’t live under your control anymore.”
Margaret’s face darkened. “Control? I treated you like my own daughter!”
“I’m not a child who needs correcting.”
“Ungrateful! After all I’ve done!”
“Go back to William at once, or you’ll regret it! Think I don’t know about your job? That promotion you’re after? One call to the right people—”
Emily went cold. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m simply explaining what happens to those who break up families. Think carefully, girl.”
“You know what, Margaret?” Emily met her gaze. “Threaten all you like. But I’m not coming back. William married a strong woman. *You* tried to turn me into a puppet.”
“Is that so?” Margaret snatched up her handbag. “You’ve been warned.”
She stormed out, slamming the door. Emily stood by the window, heart pounding, but lighter somehow.
That evening, she rang her friend Charlotte.
“You’ll never believe it—she came by. Threatened to ruin my career if I didn’t go back to William.”
“Good on you for standing firm!” Charlotte said. “Honestly, these last few months—you’re different. Calmer. More yourself.”
The next day, Emily went for an interview at a top firm. Margaret’s threats had stung—best to secure her future. A warm woman greeted her.
“Impressive CV. We’ve a project lead role opening up. You’d be perfect.”
Walking home, warmth spread through Emily’s chest. A new job meant a fresh start.
William never called. Perhaps he knew it was over. Or maybe Margaret had found him a more *suitable* wife.
Weeks later, she bumped into Margaret’s neighbour.
“Your ex-mother-in-law’s telling everyone you abandoned her poor son,” the woman said. “But no one listens—they remember how she drove off his first wife, too.”
Emily smiled. Margaret’s words couldn’t touch her now.
That evening, on her balcony, she sifted through the old photos. The wedding shot didn’t hurt anymore—just a chapter in her story. A story about finding the courage to start again.
Gran had been right: *”Keep your own place, your own money.”* But more than that—keep your spine straight. No one can break you then.
