*”Well, shes your motherso shes your responsibility!”* he said, but shed had enough.
Emily fastened her sons coat, gritting her teeth to keep her rising irritation in check. Ahead of her lay yet another obligatory visit to her mother-in-lawa woman shed never quite seen eye-to-eye with. From the very beginning, their relationship had been strained.
Margaret Whitmore had long ago decided Emily wasnt the right wife for her son. No matter what she did, there was always criticism, always some complaint, always *something* wrong.
*”Emily, what now?”* sighed Peter, watching her irritated expression. *”You really dont fancy going, do you?”*
Emily scoffed and shook her head.
*”Seriously? Youre actually asking me that? You *know* why I dont want to go!”*
Her eyes flashed with anger.
*”Shell lecture me again, nitpick everything, invent problems where there arent any! Shell say Im raising our son all wrongnever mind that I work, run the house, cook, clean, and pay all the bills! Im the one keeping this family afloat, Peter!”*
*”Well, you *do* work from home”* he muttered with a shrug.
Emily narrowed her eyes.
*”Oh, really? So you think I just sit around staring at the walls? Do the paychecks magically appear in our account?”*
*”I work too,”* he mumbled, sounding wounded. *”Its not my fault I earn less.”*
The truth was, Emily, as a graphic designer, earned three times what he did. She carried the entire financial burden.
*”Maybe you could go alone?”* she suggested hopefully.
*”Emily, its *Mothers Day*! You cant just ignore her!”*
She pressed her lips together and finished dressing their son. Two hours later, they were at Margarets house.
In the living room, as usual, sat LucyPeters niece. Emily had long noticed how Margaret treated Lucy like a princess, while barely acknowledging her own grandson. Not that it was surprisingLucys parents had died five years ago, and Margaret had taken her in.
Around them sat Margarets sisters, sipping tea and laughing loudly.
Then, out of nowhere, came the words that changed everything.
*”Ive made my decision,”* Margaret announced. *”Im leaving the flat to Lucy. Peter, youve already got your own house.”*
Peter didnt even react. He just nodded.
A few days later, the paperwork was done. The flat officially belonged to Lucyon the condition shed only move in after Margarets death.
But fate had other plans.
A stroke left Margaret completely helpless.
*”Well have to move in with her,”* Peter declared. *”She cant manage on her own.”*
Emilys stomach twisted. She knew exactly what that meant.
*She* would be the one feeding, bathing, and caring for Margaretall while working and raising their son.
But she said nothing.
Weeks passed, and Emily had no respite.
Then, one evening, she snapped.
*”Peter, the flat belongs to Lucy. Maybe *she* should take care of your mum?”*
*”Lucys at university, Emily. And shes got a boyfriend. She cant just move in here!”*
Emily laugheddry, bitter, disbelieving.
*”Peter, I *cant* do this anymore!”*
He folded his arms.
*”Oh, so youve had enough?”*
Her hands trembled.
*”Im drowning in all of this! You, your mother, our son, my workits *too much*!”*
*”But you *do* work from home”* he replied with a mocking smirk.
Her gaze turned icy.
*”And? You think thats not a real job?”*
Her heart pounded wildly.
*”You know what? *You* can take care of your mother now!”*
*”Shes *my* mother, but shes *your* mother-in-law! Thats your duty! You expect *me* to bathe her?!”*
Silence.
Then Emily spoke, calm but freezing.
*”I dont owe you a thing.”*
Peter scoffed.
*”Then hire a carer!”*
*”Oh, really? *Youll* pay for that?”*
*”Why should *I* pay?!”*
*”Then there wont *be* a carer.”*
She folded her arms.
*”You can pay from your mums pension. Or from your salary?”*
Peters face darkened with anger.
*”Well, whats the point of having a wife then?!”*
And that was the moment.
Something inside Emily shattered for good.
Everything became clear.
Peter had been using her all these years.
And Lucy? Hadnt visited her grandmother *once*.
That night, Emily didnt sleep a wink.
By morning, she knew what she had to do.
When Peter left for work, she packed their bags, took their son, and walked out.
She left one message, then blocked his number:
*”I wont carry this weight alone anymore.”*
That evening, Peter turned up, furious.
*”Come back, or Ill file for divorce!”*
Emily smiled slightly.
*”Go ahead. I was planning to do it myself.”*
For the first time, Peter had nothing to say.
But she wasnt waiting for apologies. The decision was made.
A month later, they were divorced.
Peter never admitted he was wrong.
And Emily?
She didnt regret a single second.
Six months later
Emily heard the news.
Margaret had passed away.
And Lucy?
Without a shred of guilt, she kicked Peter out.
And *then* he finally understood.
Hed lost everything.
