“Your mother-in-law forced me to give up my share”
“What do you mean, give up my share?” Emily’s voice trembled. “Margaret, that’s my husband’s inheritance!”
“Precisely—my son’s,” her mother-in-law snapped, drawing herself up to her full height. “Not yours. You’re no one here, just passing through. Thomas is mine, not yours.”
“Passing through?” Emily felt heat rise from her chest to her throat. “We’re husband and wife! Eight years together!”
“Eight years is nothing,” Margaret scoffed. “My first marriage lasted twenty-three. Then we divorced. So don’t act like you’re some everlasting wife.”
Emily stood in the kitchen, stunned. Half an hour ago, she’d been making roast dinner for the family, relieved Margaret had finally agreed to discuss dividing the house after her father-in-law’s passing. Now this.
“Margaret, let’s talk calmly,” she said, struggling to steady herself. “Robert left the house to Thomas. By law, half of it is mine as the spouse.”
“You own nothing!” Margaret raised her voice. “My husband got this house in seventy-five. I’ve lived here forty-eight years! Raised children, minded grandchildren! And who are you? Some girl from the countryside who charmed my boy and now demands her share!”
“I’m not from the countryside—I’m from Leeds,” Emily said quietly. “And I charmed no one. Thomas and I love each other.”
“Love,” Margaret snorted. “What love at your age? You’re thirty-eight—the clock’s ticking. You just want a foothold in London.”
The kitchen door swung open as Thomas walked in with shopping bags. Seeing his wife and mother red-faced, he tensed.
“What’s happened?” he asked, setting the bags down.
“Your mother wants me to give up my share of the house,” Emily said evenly.
Thomas looked between them. “Mum, we agreed to live together. Why bring this up now?”
“Thomas, darling,” Margaret’s tone turned saccharine, “I’m thinking of your future. If you divorce, she’ll take half the house.”
“Mum, stop. We’re not divorcing.”
“Of course not,” she mocked. “Neither was I with your father—until I was. Life’s unpredictable.”
Emily watched silently as Thomas shifted awkwardly, like a schoolboy called to the board unprepared.
“Mum, why do this?” he finally said. “Emily’s family.”
“Family?” Margaret repeated. “Then where are the children? Eight years, no heir. Maybe she can’t even have them?”
Emily’s cheeks burned. This was her deepest pain. They’d tried for years—doctors, treatments—but nothing.
“That’s private,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Private?” Margaret shook her head. “You marry a barren woman, and I’m to stay silent? I want grandchildren, Thomas. I’m seventy—how long should I wait?”
“Mum, enough!” Thomas raised his voice. “This is cruel.”
“Cruel? Truth is cruel?” Margaret sat, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. “I’m not to blame for her condition. Maybe she should leave you for someone simpler.”
Emily couldn’t take it.
“I’m leaving,” she said, untying her apron.
She packed a bag in the bedroom, hands trembling. Was this really happening?
“Emily, wait!” Thomas followed. “Ignore her—she’s just worried.”
“Worried? She demanded I give up my share! As if I’m some gold-digger!”
“Not demanded—asked…”
“Asked?” She turned. “Did you hear how she asked? She might as well have thrown me out!”
Thomas rubbed his temples. “Mum’s scared of being homeless. She’s lived here her whole life.”
“And I’m evicting her? The house has four bedrooms!”
“I know. But she doesn’t trust paperwork. Thinks if we split, she’ll suffer.”
Emily faced him. “Thomas, tell me truthfully—whose side are you on?”
“Yours. You’re my wife.”
“Then why didn’t you defend me? Why let her speak to me like that?”
His silence was answer enough.
“I’ll stay with Sarah a few days,” she said, zipping her bag. “I need to think.”
As she left, Margaret smirked in the hallway. “Leaving? Good. Sort your head out.”
“Margaret, understand this—I don’t want your house. Just to know I won’t be thrown out after every row.”
“Your home’s in Leeds.”
“Strangers live there now.”
“Then find somewhere else.”
On the stairwell, Emily wept. Eight years of marriage—cooking, cleaning, nursing Margaret through illness—and this.
Sarah greeted her with shock. “Emily, you look awful!”
“Worse than awful.”
Over tea, Emily recounted everything. Sarah shook her head.
“I warned you,” she said. “All those jabs about your age, no children—she was laying groundwork. Proving you’re not a ‘proper’ wife.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“You took her son’s attention. She’s used to being his priority.”
Sarah refilled their cups. “Listen—maybe she’s right. Should you give up the share?”
“Sarah!”
“Hear me out. Thomas won’t stand up to her. If you push this, she’ll poison him against you—say you married for the house, that a loving wife wouldn’t claim it. How long before he believes her?”
Emily stayed silent. Sarah was right.
“So what? Give in and live on her mercy?”
“Or compromise,” Sarah suggested. “Give up the share but secure lifetime tenancy—or a payout if you divorce.”
“You think she’d agree?”
“She’ll lose half otherwise. Your way, she keeps everything.”
The next day, Emily consulted a solicitor—a bespectacled woman who listened carefully.
“Inheritance isn’t marital property,” she explained. “Even after eight years, the house stays Thomas’s. But you could claim improvements—repairs, furnishings—if you paid jointly.”
“And if I waive all claims?”
“Nothing. But you might negotiate guarantees—like tenancy.”
That evening, Thomas embraced her at the door. “Thank God you’re back! I was worried!”
“Where’s your mother?”
“At the neighbor’s.”
They sat on the sofa. He took her hand. “I’m sorry. I was weak.”
“Tell me truthfully—do you want me to give up my share?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Mum’s terrified of homelessness.”
“And I’m not?”
“You’re strong. You’d manage.”
“So it’s decided?”
“If you agree, it solves everything.”
Emily saw no choice. Refuse, lose her marriage. Agree, keep it—barely.
“Fine,” she said. “With conditions.”
“What?”
“I stay here, no matter what. And if we divorce, I’m repaid for repairs.”
Thomas brightened. “Fair. I’ll talk to Mum.”
“No,” Emily said firmly. “I will. And it’s done legally.”
That night, Margaret balked. “Guarantees? Between family?”
“Either we do this properly, or I keep my share.”
Margaret relented. A week later, papers were signed. Emily surrendered her claim but secured tenancy and a divorce payout.
Signing was humiliating, but family mattered more than pride.
Margaret grew sweet overnight, even helping in the kitchen.
“See?” she said. “Now we can live peacefully.”
Emily nodded. “Now I know my place.”
“Nonsense! You’re family.”
“Family without a voice.”
“But with a roof,” Margaret smiled. “That counts.”
Emily washed dishes silently. Yes, it counted. She’d bought peace with her dignity. Now she knew—her voice meant nothing here. Decisions would be made without her.
But she had a home. And a husband who loved her—as much as his mother allowed.
It would have to be enough. It would have to.
