Olivia and James were having dinner when the front door burst open, and his mother—Margaret—stormed in like a whirlwind.
“James! You’re about to find out what your wife’s really been up to!” she announced loudly, barely over the threshold.
“Mum, sit down, calm yourself. You’re flushed—your blood pressure’s probably through the roof,” James fussed.
“And for good reason!” Margaret shot back, turning to Olivia. “I ran into Emily today—you know, the one you work with—and she told me everything!”
“Told you what, exactly?” Olivia asked calmly, keeping her eyes steady on Margaret.
“That you got promoted last year and now earn half as much again as James! And he had no idea! You’ve been hiding it!” Margaret spat, practically choking on indignation.
“And why is that a problem, Margaret? We don’t ask you for money—we manage just fine. What’s your issue?”
“In spring, when I asked you both to chip in for the roof repairs at the cottage, you claimed you couldn’t afford it. Turns out you could! So where’s that money going? Stashing it for a divorce, are you?” she pressed, voice rising.
Olivia stood from the table and turned to James.
“James, could you fetch the blue folder from the top drawer in the bedroom?”
Silently, he did as she asked.
“What’s this?” he asked, flipping it open. “Savings accounts?”
“Yes. For Sophie and Henry. I’ve been setting aside part of my salary every month—for their futures. When I realised I was just a temporary guest in *your* family, I had to think about protecting my children.”
“What do you mean, ‘temporary’?” James cut in.
“You don’t remember how the flat your parents bought you—with the money from selling that three-bed in Kensington—was only in your name? Because ‘just in case we divorce’? You said nothing. Not a word. I was pregnant, James. You knew. And stayed silent. You think I didn’t notice? Didn’t remember?”
James exhaled heavily. Margaret tried to interject.
“It was just a precaution!”
“Against *what*? The mother of your grandchildren?” Olivia’s voice trembled. “And then you wonder why I’m distant?”
“Where’s the money, Olivia?” Margaret snapped. “If it’s not going to the family, it’s a stash. You’re planning to leave.”
“James, please walk your mother out. We’ve nothing left to say to each other,” Olivia said, voice steady.
“Oh, fine! I’m going! But mark my words—you’ll wreck your own family!” Margaret threw back, though she hesitated at the door. “Though… you two were never quite on equal footing, were you?”
When the door clicked shut, James was quiet for a long moment.
“You really thought I was keeping an exit plan?” he finally asked, voice low.
“I didn’t know *what* to think. Because you never said a word. And silence is an answer too.”
“I don’t want a divorce. I love you. And the kids.”
“Then prove it. Show me I’m not an outsider.”
“Alright. I’ll put the flat in Sophie’s name. And I’ll start adding to the kids’ savings too. Bit by bit, but regularly. Trust goes both ways.”
Olivia nodded slowly.
“And the word ‘divorce’ is banned in this house,” James added.
“Agreed.”
For the first time in ages, they didn’t feel like flatmates sharing space—but like a family.
