“Good morning,” muttered Diana as she walked into the office and slumped into her chair. She switched on her computer, glanced out the window where low clouds blended with the wet sky, and didn’t even look at her colleagues.
“Morning,” replied Victoria and Emily, exchanging glances and shrugging. Diana, usually cheerful and talkative—whose kindness was the talk of the department—was silent, lips pressed tight. It was as if the grey drizzle outside mirrored the heaviness in her heart.
Three women worked in their office: Diana, thirty, a married mother of one, calm and tidy; Victoria, the eldest at thirty-six, with two children, lively and energetic; and Emily, the youngest at twenty-seven, living with her boyfriend but never married. Victoria, true to her role as the senior, always initiated breaks and conversations.
“Girls, how about some coffee?” she broke the silence, heading to the machine in the corner. “Won’t be a sec.”
“Sure,” Emily agreed. Diana stayed quiet.
A moment later, Victoria returned with a tray holding three mugs. She handed them out. Diana gave a silent nod, no hint of gratitude in her expression. Emily tried to lighten the mood.
“Cheers, Victoria! You’re the hostess with the mostess.”
They shared a laugh while Diana managed only the faintest smile. Victoria, unable to hold back any longer, sighed.
“Diana, love, what’s happened? We’re starting to think we’ve upset you.”
“Not at all,” Diana shook her head. “Just… things at home. Well, not home exactly—family.”
“Not Michelle again?” Emily frowned. “Honestly, how much more can you take? You can’t keep bottling it up.”
“How can I ignore it when we’re practically living on top of each other? Two houses on the same plot. My Michael acts like he doesn’t notice. His brother, Steven, is fine—quiet, no fuss. But Michelle… she’s a nightmare. Last night I snapped. Told her everything I’ve been holding in. Now I don’t know how we’ll carry on living side by side.”
When Diana married Michael, his father had built two identical houses in the same yard—one for his eldest son, Steven, and the other for Michael, the youngest. After the wedding, Diana and Michael moved into theirs, with Steven and his wife Michelle next door. But just days after the celebration, tragedy struck: Michael and Steven’s parents died in a car crash. The brothers were left alone, side by side, with their families.
At first, things were fine. Both wives had children around the same time, and life seemed to run smoothly, in tandem. But slowly, Diana began to realise how different she and Michelle were.
Michelle was loud, explosive, never satisfied. Diana, on the other hand, was quiet, loved peace, the comfort of home, solitude in the kitchen with music and the smell of coffee in the mornings. Michael, too, was calm and steady—they suited each other perfectly.
“I’ve never liked big crowds. My family is my world,” Diana once confided to her colleagues. “I’m happy with just my husband and son. We don’t need anyone else.”
Michelle, however, saw things differently.
“We’re all one family. We should stick together. What’s with this standoffishness? We’re supposed to be close,” she’d insist.
But it wasn’t just words. Michelle acted as if she owned the whole yard. She treated their shared space like common property, meddling in Diana and Michael’s affairs uninvited. She’d barge into their house without knocking, even when Diana was feeding or putting their child to sleep.
“Oops, thought you were up already! Never mind, I’ll leave you to it!”—then the door would slam.
On weekends, when Diana rose early to enjoy her coffee in peace, Michelle would appear at the window like clockwork.
“Having coffee? Pour me one, I’ll be right over!” And within minutes, she’d be at the kitchen table.
“Sometimes I just want to be alone,” Diana would tell Michael. “But it’s like she purposely shatters the silence.”
Speaking up directly felt wrong—her upbringing held her back. Even Steven, Michelle’s husband, had scolded her more than once.
“Michelle, leave Michael and Diana be. You wouldn’t like it if someone kept barging in on you.”
One evening, after a long week, Diana ordered takeaway sushi—a small celebration for their son’s straight-A report card. The moment she stepped out to collect it, Michelle popped out from next door.
“Sushi? You got sushi and didn’t tell me? Why do you always keep quiet?” A torrent of accusations and insults followed.
Diana froze. Michael tried to calm things down, but Michelle made a scene loud enough for the whole street. Steven dragged her back inside, but her shouts echoed through the walls long after. Diana shut the door behind her and burst into tears.
“Why do I have to justify every little thing? It was our evening, our meal! I don’t owe her an explanation for anything!” she sobbed. “She’s always interfering, always controlling, always noisy. And we just want peace.”
The next morning, she arrived at work drained. She told her colleagues everything. They shook their heads in disbelief.
“Ten years of this?” Victoria threw up her hands. “I’d have kicked her out ages ago. Honestly, I can’t even imagine.”
“You have your own family—your husband, your son. That’s what matters,” Emily added. “The rest? Doesn’t matter if they call themselves ‘one family.’ Let them live how they want.”
“Yeah,” Diana exhaled. “I’ve always kept quiet. Always given way. But not anymore. Next time, I’ll stand my ground—upbringing be damned.”
Outside, the rain still drizzled. But somewhere inside Diana, for the first time in ages, it felt lighter. Because she’d finally realised: she had a right to silence. And to peace. Just as she was. Without someone else’s noise through the walls.
