It was a quiet evening when Alexandra and George were finishing their supper, and the front door burst open. His mother, Margaret Whitmore, swept into the flat like a storm.
“Son! You’re about to learn a few things about your wife!” she declared from the threshold, voice sharp as a blade.
“Mum, sit down—calm yourself. You’re red as a beetroot, your blood pressure must be through the roof,” George fretted.
“And whose fault is that?” she snapped, turning to her daughter-in-law. “I ran into Sarah today—yes, the one you work with—and she told me everything!”
“Everything about what?” Alexandra replied evenly, holding Margaret’s gaze.
“That you got a promotion last year, and you’re earning half again what George does. And he didn’t even know! You kept it from him!” The words tumbled out, thick with outrage.
“And what’s the issue, Margaret? We’ve never asked you for money—we manage just fine. What’s your point?”
“When I asked you both to chip in for the cottage roof repairs this spring, you said you couldn’t afford it. Now it turns out you could! Where’s the money, then? Stashing it for a divorce, are you?”
Alexandra rose from the table. “George, fetch the red folder from the top drawer in the bedroom.”
He did, silent. A moment later, he frowned at the papers inside. “Savings accounts?”
“Yes. For Andrew and Emily. I’ve been setting aside part of my wages every month—for their future. When I realised I was only ever temporary in your family’s eyes, I had to think of how to protect my children.”
“Temporary?” George cut in.
“Do you remember how you handled the flat your parents bought you—the one funded by selling their townhouse in London? It went in *your* name. Because ‘just in case.’ You said nothing. Not a word. I was pregnant—you knew that—and still you stayed quiet. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think I’d forget?”
George exhaled heavily. Margaret seized the moment to interject—
“It was a precaution!”
“Against whom? The mother of your grandchildren?” Alexandra’s voice wavered. “And after that, you wonder why I’m distant?”
“Where *is* the money, Alexandra?” Margaret pressed. “If you’re not putting it into the household, it’s a nest egg. You’re planning to leave.”
“George, see your mother out,” Alexandra said, tone cool but firm. “We’ve nothing left to say.”
“Oh, I’m going! But mark my words—you’ll be the ruin of this family!” Margaret hissed. Yet at the door, she paused. “…Though truth be told, you two were never well matched from the start.”
When the door clicked shut, the silence stretched.
“Did you really believe I was keeping an escape route ready?” George finally murmured.
“I didn’t know *what* to believe. Because you never spoke. Silence is an answer too.”
“I don’t want a divorce. I love you. And the children.”
“Then prove it. Show me I’m not an outsider in my own home.”
“Right. I’ll transfer the flat to Emily’s name. And I’ll start putting aside for the children’s accounts—bit by bit, but steady. Trust… it goes both ways.”
Alexandra nodded slowly.
“And the word ‘divorce’ is banned in this house,” George added.
“Agreed.”
For the first time in years, they spoke not as strangers sharing a roof, but as kin.
