Olivia sat in the kitchen of her new flat, flipping through an old photo album. Seven years of marriage condensed into a few faded pages. She remembered how, in the early days with Edward, she’d believed things would improve. Time, however, had proven otherwise.
Edna Whitmore, her mother-in-law, had been a constant presence, arriving unannounced nearly every day, letting herself in with the spare key Edward had given her “just in case.” She always found fault—whether it was the supper being bland, the flat needing dusting, or Olivia staying too late at work. Edward would stay silent or change the subject, while Olivia gritted her teeth and endured.
Now, sitting in the flat she’d inherited from her grandmother, Olivia understood the wisdom of her words: “Liv, love, the key is having your own roof and your own work—then no one can push you about.” For seven years, she’d tried to be the “proper wife” by Edna’s standards.
A sharp knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. There stood Edna, stiff-backed and imperious.
“What on earth are you playing at, girl?” Edna swept past her into the hall. “Edward’s beside himself, and here you are, sitting about like a lady of leisure.”
“What’s wrong with Edward?” Olivia couldn’t help asking. “Why hasn’t he come himself?”
“He’s busy with work—hardly has time to chase after your whims. Pack your things and stop this nonsense.”
A surge of anger rose in Olivia’s chest. Seven years of this treatment, and never once had Edward stood up for her.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going back. Enough is enough.”
Edna’s face twisted. “What do you mean, ‘no’? What about your family? What about Edward?”
“And what about Edward thinking of me?” Olivia countered. “When you showed up unannounced, criticising everything I did? When you demanded I sell my flat to fix your cottage? When you threw out my belongings?”
“I was only trying to help! You were so inexperienced—someone had to teach you how to be a proper wife.”
“Teach me? You didn’t teach—you tried to break me. But I won’t allow it anymore.”
Just then, Olivia’s phone buzzed. Edward. She glanced at Edna, who watched with a smug smile.
“Answer it,” Edna nearly commanded. “Edward will understand, he’ll forgive you. Come home, and we’ll put all this behind us.”
Silently, Olivia slipped the phone into her pocket.
“You know, Edna,” she said quietly, “I’ve made up my mind. I won’t live under constant scrutiny and humiliation any longer.”
Edna’s face darkened. “Humiliation? I treated you like my own daughter!”
“I’m not a child needing instruction at every turn.”
“Ungrateful girl! After all I’ve done for you!”
“Go back to my son at once, or you’ll regret it!” Edna hissed. “Think I don’t know about your job? That promotion you’ve been counting on? One word to the right people…”
Olivia’s blood ran cold. “Are you threatening me?”
“Merely explaining the consequences for those who tear families apart. Think carefully, dear.”
“You know what, Edna?” Olivia faced her squarely. “Threaten all you like. I won’t return. Edward knew who he married—a strong, independent woman. You’re the one who tried to turn me into a puppet.”
“Is that so?” Edna snatched up her handbag. “You’ve been warned.”
With a sharp slam of the door, she was gone. Olivia stood by the window, fear and relief tangled in her chest.
That evening, she called her friend Claire.
“You’ll never believe it—she came by. Threatened to ruin my career if I didn’t go back to Edward.”
“Good on you for standing firm!” Claire cheered. “Truth be told, I’ve been meaning to say… You’ve changed these past months. More confident, more at ease.”
The next day, Olivia attended an interview with a prominent firm. Edna’s threats hadn’t been idle—she needed to secure herself. The hiring manager, a pleasant woman, smiled as she reviewed Olivia’s CV.
“Impressive. We’ve just opened a role for a project lead. I think you’d be perfect.”
Walking home, warmth spread through Olivia’s chest. A new job meant new opportunities—a fresh start.
Edward never called or wrote. Perhaps he’d accepted it was over. Or perhaps Edna had found him a more suitable bride.
One evening, bumping into one of Edna’s neighbours, Olivia learned the latest.
“Did you hear?” the woman said. “Your former mother-in-law’s been telling everyone how you abandoned her poor boy. But no one listens—they remember how she drove the first wife off too.”
Olivia merely smiled. Edna’s words couldn’t touch her now.
That night, on her balcony, Olivia sorted through the old photos again. The wedding portrait no longer brought pain. It was simply part of her story—the story of a woman who’d found the strength to begin anew. As her grandmother had said: “The key is your own roof and your own work.” And something else—an unshakable spine that refused to bend.
