Olivia sat in the kitchen of her new flat, flipping through an old photo album. Seven years of marriage squeezed into one small book. She remembered how, at the start of her relationship with Nicholas, she’d believed things would improve. But time had proved her wrong.
Harriet, her mother-in-law, appeared at their house nearly every day. She’d let herself in without warning, using the spare key Nicholas had given her “just in case.” There was always something to criticise—the dinner was bland, the flat was dusty, Olivia came home too late from work. Nicholas usually stayed silent or changed the subject, while Olivia clenched her teeth and endured.
Now, sitting in the flat she’d inherited from her grandmother, Olivia understood the wisdom of her words: *”Liv, the most important things are your own space and your work—then no one can push you around.”* Seven years she’d spent trying to be the “perfect wife” by Harriet’s standards.
A knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. There stood Harriet—stern, unyielding. *”What on earth are you playing at, girl?”* She barged past into the hallway. *”Nicholas is beside himself, and here you are lazing about.”*
*”What’s wrong with Nicholas?”* Olivia couldn’t help asking. *”Why didn’t he come himself?”*
*”He’s busy with work—no time to run after your whims. Pack your things, enough of this nonsense.”*
Olivia felt a wave of anger rise inside her. Seven years of this treatment—and not once had Nicholas stood up for her.
*”No,”* she said firmly. *”I’m not going anywhere. Enough is enough.”*
Harriet’s face twisted. *”What do you mean, ‘not going’? What about the family? What about Nicholas?”*
*”And did Nicholas ever think of me? When you barged in unannounced, criticising every little thing? When you demanded I sell my flat to pay for your cottage renovation? When you threw out my things?”*
*”I only meant to help! You were so inexperienced—someone had to teach you how to be a proper wife.”*
*”Teach me? You weren’t teaching—you were trying to break me. But I won’t let you anymore.”*
Just then, Olivia’s phone buzzed. Nicholas. She glanced at Harriet, who watched with a smug smile.
*”Answer it,”* the older woman ordered. *”Nicholas will forgive everything. Come home, and we’ll put this behind us.”*
Olivia slipped the phone into her pocket.
*”You know, Harriet,”* she said calmly, *”I’ve made up my mind. I won’t live under constant control and humiliation anymore.”*
Harriet’s face darkened. *”Humiliation? I treated you like my own daughter!”*
*”I’m not a child who needs micromanaging.”*
*”Ungrateful! After all I’ve done for you!”*
*”Go back to my son at once, or you’ll regret it! Think I don’t know about your job? That promotion you’re counting on? One call to the right people…”*
Olivia felt her blood run cold.
*”Are you threatening me?”*
*”Just reminding you what happens to those who wreck families. Think carefully, girl.”*
Olivia faced her squarely. *”Threaten me all you like. I won’t go back. Nicholas knew who he married—a strong, independent woman. You’re the one who wanted a puppet.”*
*”Is that so?”* Harriet snatched up her handbag. *”You’ve been warned.”*
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Olivia stood by the window, trembling but relieved.
That evening, she called her friend Emily.
*”Guess who showed up today. Threatened to ruin my career if I didn’t return to Nicholas.”*
*”Good on you for standing firm!”* Emily cheered. *”You’ve changed these past months—more confident, more at peace.”*
The next day, Olivia attended an interview at a top firm. Harriet’s threats had pushed her to secure her future.
*”Impressive CV,”* said the hiring manager. *”We’ve a project lead role opening up. You’d be perfect.”*
Walking home, warmth spread through Olivia’s chest. A new job meant new beginnings.
Nicholas never called. Perhaps he realised it was over—or perhaps Harriet had found him a more “suitable” bride.
Weeks later, Olivia ran into Harriet’s neighbour.
*”You should know,”* the woman said, *”your ex-mother-in-law’s been spinning tales about how you abandoned her poor son. But no one’s listening—they remember how she drove off his first wife too.”*
Olivia smiled. Harriet’s words couldn’t touch her anymore.
That night, on her balcony, she sifted through the photos again. The wedding portrait no longer stung. It was just part of her story—a story of finding the strength to start anew.
As her grandmother had said, *”Own your space, own your work.”* And most of all—have the backbone to never let anyone break you.
