**The Shadow of the Past**
*— If it weren’t for you, we’d be living like proper people!*
Victor glared at his wife, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.
*— Please, stop this,* Anna replied quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. *How much longer are you going to keep saying it?*
*— As long as it takes!* he snapped. *Until you admit you ruined everything!*
Their wedding had been nearly thirty years ago.
When Victor first stepped into that house in a small town in Yorkshire, awkwardly greeting Anna’s parents, he was just twenty-two—a lanky lad from the countryside with no grand ambitions but burning eyes full of dreams. They didn’t trust him.
*— Just look at him,* her father grumbled. *No proper education, no decent job, not a penny to his name. How will you even live?*
*— Annie, think about it,* her mother echoed. *Children will come—how will you raise them? Maybe wait a bit longer?*
*— It’s too late,* Anna breathed out, barely audible.
*— What do you mean, “too late”?* Her parents stiffened.
*— I’m expecting.*
*— Right then,* her father said after a pause. *We’ll arrange the wedding. You’ll live here.*
*— We wanted to rent a flat,* Anna protested weakly.
*— What for?* Her mother threw up her hands. *There’s plenty of room. You need rest now, proper meals. No, your father’s right—you’re staying with us.*
The young couple were given the larger bedroom, allowed to decorate it as they pleased. The arrangement was simple—they’d all live as one family, for now.
*— Only one woman runs this house,* her father said sternly. *Your mother’s in charge. You two—* he looked at his daughter, *—will contribute to food and bills. How much? Your mother will sort it. Don’t worry, she won’t take the mickey. Agreed?*
Anna and Victor nodded in unison.
*— And one more thing,* her father’s voice hardened. *Your mother’s word is law. If she says jump, you ask how high. Clear?*
*— Clear, Dad,* Anna hurried to end it, seeing Victor’s discomfort. *We’re fine with everything. Thank you for having us.*
*— Don’t make a fuss,* her father softened. *This is your home now. The question is how we’ll all get on. Let’s hope we rub along nicely.*
And they did—on the surface. Anna’s father, though unimpressed by his son-in-law, stayed civil. He never meddled, never lectured. Never once slighted Victor outright. Her mother was kind, treating him like her own.
That’s how *they* saw it. Victor saw things differently.
*— They drive me mad, especially your mum,* he whispered to Anna. *”Love this, love that.” I’m not her bloody son! And your dad? All smiles, but his eyes—full of contempt. We never should’ve stayed. We need our own place.*
*— Vic, what place?* Anna fought to keep her voice steady. *I’m due any day. Mum will help with the baby. And Dad… he respects you. Doesn’t love you, maybe, but that’s normal—you’re strangers. He’s not some lad.*
*— Exactly—strangers!* Victor hissed. *Then let them act like it instead of playing parents!*
*— No one’s playing anything,* Anna snapped. *You’re imagining it. We should be grateful we’ve got a roof over our heads! Have you seen rent prices? And your wages? How would we live? On my maternity pay?*
She burst into tears.
*— So my wages aren’t good enough now?* Victor exploded. *And stop crying! It’s all your fault!*
Anna never understood what fault he meant. Nor why he hated everything—the house, the factory job, the in-laws he barely tolerated, even her endless pregnancy. Back in his village, life was simple: the man was king, his word law. Here, some stranger was calling the shots.
Who knows where this resentment would’ve led? Then tragedy struck.
Anna’s father died suddenly, holding his newborn granddaughter just once.
After the funeral, her mother, drowning in tears, made them promise not to leave her alone.
*— I can’t imagine this house without him,* she wept. Refusing wasn’t an option.
Now Anna and Victor had two rooms. Her mother took the small one, stepping back from running the house. *I need little,* she said. *You two decide how to live.*
Victor sighed in relief. Finally, he was master of his home. And he began to show the temper he’d hidden.
Soon, his mother-in-law and Anna felt like beggars in his house. He never let them forget he was the breadwinner—never counting Anna’s maternity pay or her mother’s pension. *I keep you afloat,* end of.
Years passed. Anna returned to work, Lily started nursery, Victor stayed at the factory.
Then one evening, a knock at the door. Victor’s cousin, Paul, had come with a proposal: he was opening a garage in town. Laid out the plan—with investment, they’d have a chain in a few years. He wanted Victor as partner.
*— Me? A partner?* Victor was stunned. *I know nothing about garages!*
*— We split the costs, split the profits! Easy!* Paul clapped his shoulder. *Take the leap, mate!*
Victor’s mind raced—new house, flash car, holidays abroad. Everything he’d dreamed of.
One problem: the money.
*— No sweat!* Paul brushed it off. *I’m selling my flat. Covers the start-up.*
Victor looked at Anna. Her silence screamed *no.*
Paul left, giving them time to decide. Victor pleaded.
*— This is our shot! We won’t get another!*
*— How do you see this working?* Anna argued. *Where would we live with Lily? And Mum? She’ll never agree. It’s too risky.*
He pushed, he fought, but Anna stood firm. Selling the house was out of the question.
Two weeks later, Paul called. Hearing the refusal, he scoffed:
*— Your loss. You’ll regret it when it’s too late.* Click.
Life rolled on. Lily finished school, Anna worked, her mother kept house, and Victor—eyes full of longing—became a senior mechanic.
One evening, the smell of roast potatoes mixed with the telly droning about new tariffs. Victor prodded his food, leaving neat fork tracks.
*— Paul rang,* he said suddenly. *Bought a house in the country. With a pool.*
Anna slowly set down her spoon. She knew what came next—news of Paul, silence, bitterness, a week of cold shoulders.
*— Good for him,* she said evenly.
*— Good?!* Victor slammed his fork down. *He’s got it all! And us? And whose fault is that? Yours, clinging to your mum’s apron strings!*
The door banged—Lily fled the kitchen, as always when this started.
Anna moved to the window. Snow fell outside, just like that night at the bus stop when Victor first held her. Back then, he’d smelled of dreams.
*— We could’ve sold the house,* his voice was hollow. *Invested. Lived properly.*
Anna turned. In his eyes—that familiar ache. He was already living the life where it all worked.
*— And if we’d lost everything?* she asked, steadying her voice.
*— I’d have tried!*
She closed her eyes. Saw it—a rented room, Lily ashamed of her friends, her mother coughing in a corner…
*— Maybe you’re right,* she surprised herself. *We should’ve risked it.*
Victor froze. He’d waited years for those words. Now they were ashes.
*— See?!* He laughed bitterly. *You admit it!*
*— I do, just don’t shout. You’ll wake Mum.*
*— I’m awake,* her mother said, sitting down. *Heard it all. Annie… he’s right. We should’ve tried. I’d have backed you.*
The kitchen fell silent, thick as the snow outside.
*— So you decided everything?* Victor spat. *And swore your mum was against it! Because of you, we’ve got nothing!*
*— We’ve got family,* Anna said softly.
*— Family?* He sneered. *A daughter who hides from us? A wife who nags non-stop?*
Something inside Anna snapped.
*— And you?* Her voice hardened. *What have *you* done besides blame me? You could’ve changed jobs, made something of yourself!*
Victor recoiled like he’d been hit.
*— You… don’t getVictor stared at the floor, the fight gone from him, and whispered, “Maybe I just didn’t try hard enough.”
