James and I had been married for seven years. From the day we said I do, I accepted living with my mother-in-law, Margareta woman whod suffered a stroke, was partially paralysed, and needed round-the-clock care for every meal and nap. At first, I thought it would be simple: she was family, and looking after her was just what you did.
But I never imagined the weight of that duty would drag on so long and the hardest part? It fell entirely on methe one person who shouldve shared it, James, was nowhere to be found. He worked during the day and spent evenings glued to his phone, always saying, Youre better with Mum than I am. If I try, shell just suffer. I never held it against him.
I assumed this was life: the wife keeps the home, the husband brings in the bacon. Until I discovered James wasnt just at work he had someone else.
One day, I stumbled on a text: Tonight again. Being with you beats being at home a thousand times over. I didnt scream, didnt cry, didnt make a scene. I just whispered, And what about your motherthe one youve neglected all these years? James said nothing. The next day, he left. I knew exactly where hed gone.
I looked at Margaretthe woman whod once criticised every bite I ate, every nap I took, who said I wasnt good enough for her sonand felt a lump in my throat. I wanted to walk away. But then I reminded myself: dignity matters.
A week later, I called James. Free tonight? Im bringing your mother over.
I packed her medications, medical notes, and a worn-out care log into a tote bag. That evening, I helped her into her wheelchair and said gently, Mum, were visiting James for a bit. A change of scenery will do you good. She nodded, eyes bright like a childs.
At his tiny flat, I rang the bell. James opened the door, and behind him stood *her*, in a silk nightgown and crimson lipstick. I wheeled Margaret into the living room, arranged her blankets and pillows, and set the medication bag on the table.
The flat reeked of perfume but felt icy and silent. James stammered, What what are you doing?
I smiled sweetly. Remember? Shes *your* mother. Im just the in-law. Seven years of care is quite enough. The woman behind him turned pale, a spoonful of yoghurt frozen mid-air.
I stepped back calmly, as if finishing a long-planned task. Her medical history, prescriptions, pads, and ulcer cream are all here. Ive noted the dosages in the logbook.
I set the book down and turned to leave. Jamess voice rose. Youre abandoning Mum? Thats cruel!
I paused, not looking back, and replied, steady and firm: You neglected her for seven years. Whats *that*, if not cruel? I cared for her like my ownnot for you, but because shes a mother. Now Im leaving, not for revenge, but because Ive done my part as a decent human.
I glanced at the other woman, meeting her eyes with a faint smile. If you love him, love all of him. This comes in the package.
Then I placed the house deeds on the table. The house is in my name. Im taking nothing. He only grabbed his clothes. But if you ever need money for Mums care, Ill still contribute.
I bent down, stroking Margarets hair one last time. Be good, Mum. If youre sad, Ill visit.
Margaret smiled, her voice shaky. Yes come see me when youre home again.
I walked out, closing the door behind me. The room fell silent, thick with perfume and massage oil. That night, I slept peacefully, dreamless. The next morning, I woke early, took my son out for breakfast, and hugged a fresh startno tears, no bitterness.
