“You can think whatever you like about me, but youll never prove a thing,” declared the mother-in-law with a threatening smirk, backing her daughter-in-law into a corner.
“Right then, Mary love, listen carefully. You can believe what you like about me, but youve got no proof. No witnesses, and Oliver trusts me. So if you want to stay in this family, youll keep your mouth shut, do the cleaning, the cooking, and smile while youre at it. Understood?”
Mary had married Oliver a few years back. Soon after, theyd had a sonDaniel, now six. Both worked hard to keep the family afloat, scraping by but managing.
Life had been simple but happy: Mary juggled housework, childcare, and her job as an accountant at a small firm, while Oliver worked as an engineer. For a while, everything ran smoothly.
Then Olivers mother, Margaret, was diagnosed with ischemic heart disease. It required constant care, medication, and a gentle touch. She had to quit her job, and from then on, she depended entirely on her sons help.
Mary did her beststopping by after work with groceries, cooking soups, sometimes bringing Daniel along since there was no one else to watch him. Other evenings, Oliver visited his mum himself.
At first, it seemed natural. But over time, the strain began to show. Money vanished faster than evermedication, treatments, special groceries. Oliver handed over part of his salary without question, and Mary accepted it. But soon, she noticed their own needs were being squeezed dry. And Oliver? Oblivious.
Daniel needed new shoes. Then his after-school club raised its fees. Then the washing machine gave up the ghost. Everything was going pear-shaped. Marys winter coat was five years old, but when she mentioned replacing it, Oliver just sighed,
“Hold on a bit longer. Mum comes first.”
So she bit her tongue. Health was more important, after all. But the weight inside her grew heavier. How long would this go on?
One day, after getting off work early ahead of a bank holiday, Mary heard something from Margaret that left her reeling.
Shed just received a modest but welcome bonusenough for a treat. She imagined a quiet evening: Daniel in bed, a bottle of wine, cheese and crackers, just her and Oliver like the old days before the exhaustion and endless errands.
On her way home, she stopped for fresh vegetables, milk, and greens. “Ill drop these at Margarets first,” she thought, “then head back to prep for our night.”
She had a key for emergencies, so she let herself in quietly. A voice drifted from the kitchennot the telly, as shed assumed. She froze at the doorway.
Margaret stood by the cracked window, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke outside while chatting on the phone.
“Course Ill keep up the act,” she cackled. “Why not? My sons wrapped round my finger, and his wife dances attendance. Im not giving that up for anything. Cheers, Veronicaowe you one for sorting that doctors note.”
Marys vision swam. The words hit like a slap. She stumbled back, hitting the doorframe, and the shopping bag slipped from her grip. Tomatoes and apples tumbled across the floor.
Margaret whirled around.
“Marywait! I can explain!”
But Mary was already out the door, racing down the stairs without thinking, her chest tight, her mind blank. Only one thought looped: *A whole year. Shes played us for fools. Was she ever even ill?*
Later, after Daniel was asleep, Mary called Oliver into the kitchen. He frownedusually, she was too knackered for late-night talks.
“Oliver,” she said, “we need to talk. About your mum.”
“Whats happened?”
“Shes fine. Maybe shes always been fine.”
“Whatre you on about?”
“Im not making it up. Today, I walked in on her smoking by the window. Talking to some Veronica about a faked doctors note.”
Oliver went still.
“Veronicas her mate from the clinic…”
“Exactly.”
He dragged a hand down his face.
“I trust you. But Mum… why would she do this?”
“Ask her yourself. But dont call ahead.”
“Why?”
“So she cant cover her tracks.”
Mary left him there, heading to the bathroom before he could reply.
The next day, Oliver couldnt focus at work. By lunch, hed had enough and drove to Margarets.
The flat was spotlessfresh flowers, no hint of smoke. Margaret sat at the kitchen table, pale and drawn.
“Had a bad night,” she rasped. “Couldnt swallow a thing.”
Her voice was thin, strained. Oliver studied her, doubt creeping in. *Could Mary be wrong?*
He played along. “Rest up, Mum. Ill check on you tonight.”
Back at work, his thoughts churned. That evening, Margaret pounced.
“Your Marys got no shame, abandoning me like this!”
Oliver listened in silence, trapped between two versions of the truth.
When he left for a work trip the next week, Mary had no choice but to visit Margaretbut she refused to play maid. She bought bread, milk, and meds, did a quick tidy, and braced for the inevitable.
Margaret waited like a spider. “Listen, dear,” she sneered. “Think what you likeyouve no proof. Oliver trusts *me*. So if you want to stay married, youll clean, cook, and keep quiet. Clear?”
Mary clenched the shopping bag, fury risingthen nodded calmly. “Crystal.”
She left without another word. The moment the door shut, she texted Oliver the recording shed made.
That night, in his hotel room, Oliver listened in disbelief. His mothers voice, sharp and smug, laid everything bare. He buried his face in his hands.
*How could she?*
He didnt call her. Some truths needed to be faced in person.
Back home, he went straight to Margarets. She beamed, arms wide.
“Oliver, darling! Ive missed you!”
He didnt move. “We need to talk.”
Her smile faltered. “About what?”
“About the year you spent lying to me and Mary. Faking illness. Taking our money.”
Her face hardened. “That wife of yours has poisoned you against me!”
“No,” he said coldly. “I heard the recording, Mum. *Your* voice.”
For a second, she looked corneredthen scoffed. “So what? I raised you alone! You owe me!”
“Youve betrayed us. Worseyou tried to ruin my marriage.”
She scoffed. “I was saving you from that gold-digger!”
“Enough!” he snapped. “Shes my wife. Daniels mother. And the only honest one in this mess.”
Margaret opened her mouthbut Oliver grabbed his coat.
“Mary wont be visiting again. And if you interfere with my family once more, were done.”
He left without looking back.
That night, he came home late, clutching a bouquet of red rosesMarys favourite.
“Forgive me,” he said softly.
She stood in the hallway, exhausted, staring at the flowers.
“Oliver”
“I heard the recording. You were right all along. Thank you for sticking by me.”
She took the roses, tears in her eyesnot from pain, but relief.
After that, things changed. Mary never visited Margaret again, and Olivers support became measuredgroceries, meds, nothing more. Margaret had to return to part-time work, realising the gravy train had ended. Daniel barely saw his grandmother. If Mary felt a pang of guilt, Olivers arms around her and their son reminded her: real family was built on love and honestynot lies and duty.
