“Where do you think you’re going? Whos going to cook dinner? Slow downsomeone has to make the meal!” the man snapped in irritation, watching what Antonia did after yet another argument with his mother.
Antonia gazed out the window. Grim clouds lingered, though spring had already begun. In their little northern English town, sunny days were rare, and the people who lived there often seemed as dreary as the weather. Lately, Antonia had noticed she hardly smiled anymorethe permanent crease on her forehead made her look a decade older.
“Mum! Im going out for a walk,” her daughter, Evelyn, announced.
“Right,” Antonia murmured.
“Whats that supposed to mean? Give me some money.”
“Since when do walks cost anything?” Antonia sighed.
“Mum! Must you always ask questions?” Evelyn huffed. “Just hurry up! Is this really all youre giving me?”
“Its enough for an ice cream.”
“Cheapskate,” Evelyn muttered before slamming the door behind her, leaving her mother unheard.
*I cant believe it* Antonia shook her head, remembering how sweet Evelyn had been before the teenage years took hold.
“Toni, my stomachs growling! How much longer?” her husband, Thomas, called impatiently from the other room.
“Cook for yourself,” she replied flatly, setting a plate on the table.
“Or bring it here?”
Antonia nearly dropped the pot. *Who does he think he is?*
“Dinners in the kitchen, Tom. Take it or leave it,” she said, sitting down alone.
Fifteen minutes later, Thomas trudged in.
“Its cold gross.”
“I left it in longer.”
“I *asked* you! Not an ounce of care or love in you! You know Im watching football!” He shoveled the chicken down hurriedly. “Tastes rubbish.”
Antonia merely rolled her eyes. Football had turned Thomas into a different manbetting, merchandise, expensive ticketsthough in his youth, hed never cared for sports.
Without sitting, he grabbed a beer, a packet of crisps, and stomped back to the telly. Antonia stayed behind, scrubbing the dirty dishes.
*All that effort for nothing. No one appreciates it.*
She was exhausted after her shift as a senior nurse at the hospital. Patients came to her with their pains and complaints, leaving her drained. And home? No warmth or comfortjust another shift of fetch, carry, wash, tidy.
“Any more left?” Thomas yanked open the fridge. “Whys there none?”
“You drank it all! Am I supposed to buy that too? Have some decency, Tom!” Antonia finally snapped.
“Oh, arent we posh now?” he sneered before slamming the door and stomping off to replenish his “stash” for the next match.
Antonia decided to sleep earlywork awaited tomorrow. But she couldnt drift off, worrying about Evelyn. Where was she? Who was she with? Outside, darkness had fallen, and still no sign of her. Calling was pointlessEvelyn would just shout.
“You embarrass me in front of my friends! Stop calling!” shed screech. So Antonia stopped, reminding herself Evelyn had just turned eighteen. No job, no interest in studiesjust a “gap year to find herself.”
Finally dozing, Antonia was jolted awake by Thomass triumphant roarsome goal scored. Then he bellowed about the match with the neighbour whod dropped by, soon joined by his girlfriend, the three of them cheering loudly. Later, Evelyn returned, clattering plates before heading to bed, oblivious. Just as silence settled, the cat yowled for food.
“Can *anyone* in this house feed the cat besides me?!” Furious, sleep-deprived, and nursing a headache, Antonia stormed out, hoping to be heard. But Evelyn had her earbuds in, scrolling mindlessly, and Thomas had dozed off, beer in hand.
*Ive had enough… I cant take this anymore.*
The next morning, her mother-in-laws call woke her.
“Antonia, love, dont forgetits time to plant the garden. And we need to sort the cottage.”
“I remember,” Antonia sighed.
“Tomorrow, then.”
Her only day off was spent labouring under her mother-in-laws orders at the countryside cottage.
“Youre sweeping all wrong! Hold the broom properly!” the older woman barked from her perch.
“Im nearly fifty, Vera. I can manage,” Antonia dared to retort.
“And Thomas”
“Where *is* Thomas? Why didnt *he* drive his mother here? Why did *we* rattle on a bus for three hours? All you ever talk about is Thomas, Thomas”
“He works hard.”
“And I dont?”
And then it began. Antonia regretted speaking upVera loved a debate, but only if she won. Her entire life revolved around coddling Thomas, while Antonia was the tolerated servant.
They rode home in opposite ends of the bus. The next day, Vera complained to her son, and Thomas erupted.
“How *dare* you talk back to my mother?!” he growled. “If it werent for her”
“What?” Antonia crossed her arms, defiant. Shed reached her limit.
“Youd still be at that clinic!” He played his trump cardVera had helped Antonia land the higher-paying hospital job, though it cost her sanity. More than once, shed regretted leaving the peaceful local clinic. “Where are you going?”
Thomas froze, stunned by what Antonia did next.
What she did nexthe *never* saw coming.
