“It seems youve forgotten this flat is minebought before the wedding!” I said coolly as my husband cheerfully dictated changes to *my* home.
Emily set her tea on the windowsill and stared pensively at the drizzle outside. Shed scrimped for this place for a decade, working two jobs, skipping holidays, and counting every penny. And now
“Love, I thought wed shuffle the furniture a bit,” trilled her mother-in-law from the sitting room. “That sofa absolutely *must* face northfeng shui, you know.”
Emily sighed. Margaret had popped over unannounced *again*, letting herself in with the spare key shed had cut”just for emergencies, darling.”
“No need,” Emily said, stepping in. “I like it as it is.”
“*Like it?*” Margaret gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. “The energy flow is *dreadful* here! I saw a *fantastic* programme on BBC Two about it”
“Margaret, Id rather not redecorate.”
“James!” Her mother-in-law bellowed as her son wandered in. “Explain to your wife that elders *know best*.”
James wavered, glancing between them. “Mum, maybe not today?”
“*When*, then? Your fathers knees wont last forever. Soon well need looking after, and youve *oceans* of space here”
Emily gritted her teeth. *There it was.* The inevitable script shed dreaded since the wedding. Margaret was nudging the chess pieces toward a full-blown invasion.
“Youve a lovely three-bed in Croydon,” Emily reminded her.
“*Lovely?*” Margaret scoffed. “Third floor, no lift! At our age, its *murder* on the hips. Meanwhile, youre hereground floor, Waitrose round the corner”
“Mum, *later*,” James tried.
“Whats to discuss? Family sticks together! Your sister took *her* in-laws in straightaway”
“Claires husband *bought* their house,” Emily snapped. “*I* earned this flat. *Alone*. Before vows were exchanged.”
“Oh, *here we go!*” Margaret flung her arms up. “Mine, yoursin a family, everythings *shared!*”
“Emilys right,” James said, oddly firm. “Its her flat.”
“*James!*” Margaret clutched her chest like a soap opera widow. “After all Ive sacrificed”
“Not now, Mum,” he steered her toward the door.
When it shut, Emily collapsed into an armchair. Three years wed, and the script never changed: hints about redecorating, “helpful” critiques of her curtains, and now*moving in*.
“Sorry about Mum,” James said, perching beside her. “She means well.”
“Does she?” Emily laughed drily. “Or does she just fancy a freehold in Zone 2?”
“Dont be daft”
“James, she *waltzes* in uninvited, rearranges my kitchen, critiques my roast, and now*this*?”
“They *are* getting on,” he sighed. “Maybe we *should* consider it? Theyre family”
Emily shot up. “*Consider it?* Youre seriously suggesting we *host* them?”
“Well, not *immediately* but long-term”
“James, this flat is the *one* thing Ive ever had thats *mine*. Ten years of *beans on toast* to afford it. Its my *safe place*, my”
“*Ours*,” he corrected gently. “Were married.”
Emily gaped. A cold thought slithered in: *”You too? Already tallying up my equity?”*
“Speaking of,” James added breezily, “I chatted with an estate agent”
“*What* agent?”
“Mums mate. *Brilliant* chap. Says if we sell your flat”
“*SELL MY FLAT?!*”
“*Ours*,” he smiled. “We could get a *quaint* cottage in Kent. Room for everyone, *fresh air*”
Emily stared. Had he and Margaret *planned* this? Behind her back?
“James, are you *hearing* yourself?” Her voice shook. “*What* cottage? *What sale?*”
“Sweetheart, its *logical*,” he soothed, deploying his patented “calm down Mum” tone. “Why cling to a poky flat when”
The doorbell rang. A man in a pinstripe suit stood there.
“Evening. From Chesterton Estates. James booked a valuation?”
“*Perfect*,” Emily yanked the door wide. “Do come in.”
James paled. “Em, wait”
“No, *you* wait.” She turned to the agent. “You *do* know this flats solely in my name? *Pre-marriage purchase?*”
The agent blinked at James. “But your husband said”
“My husband says *many* things.” Emily pulled a folder from the cupboard. “*Land registry. Wedding date.* Spot the gap?”
“Ah. *Right.*” The agent coughed. “Then no sale without your consent.”
“*Precisely.* And I *dont* consent.”
“James, we had a *deal!*” Margaret squawked.
“*You* had a deal,” Emily said. “I had a *betrayal*.”
The agent fled, mumbling about refunds. Emily began packing Jamess suitcase.
“You *monster!*” Margaret wailed. “Were *blood!*”
“*Were*,” Emily zipped it shut. “Till you treated me like a tenant.”
James grabbed her wrist. “Em, *talk* to me!”
“About *what*? The loan you took against *my flat*?”
“I wanted whats *best*”
“For *who*?” Emily wrenched free. “Your mum? You? Not *me*.”
Her phone buzzed. A bank alert: *”Mortgage application: £250K. Confirm with original deeds”*
Her vision swam. “*What. Is. This?*” She shoved the screen at James.
He looked away. “Deposit for the cottage I thought youd *come round*”
“*Forged my signature?!*”
“It was *urgent*,” Margaret cut in. “You *overcomplicate* everything”
“*Me?!* You *steal* my flat, and *Im* the villain?”
“Darling girl”
“*Dont.* Get out. *Both.*”
“Emily”
“*OUT.* Tomorrow, Im at the bank. And the police.”
“You *wouldnt!*” Margaret gasped. “Hes your *husband!*”
“*Ex*-husband,” Emily slid off her ring.
As they left, Margaret shrieked, “Youll *regret* this!”
Emily floated downstairs, lighter than air. Her phone rang*James, blocked.*
Her best mate, Lucy, opened a bottle of Malbec. “Spill.”
She did. About Margarets passive-aggressive land grab, Jamess spinelessness, her own quiet surrender.
“Police, then?” Lucy asked.
“Oh *yes.* And the bank.”
Her phone blew upMargaret texting threats, James pleading. Emily deleted them all.
“What now?” Lucy refilled her glass.
“Now,” Emily grinned, “I *live.* No more shared sacrifices for people who see me as a *leasehold.*”
For the first time in years, she felt *free.* Plans fizzed: rip out Margarets ghastly wallpaper, book a solo trip to Crete, join Pilates
Dawn brought texts:
MARGARET: *”Your father and I will NEVER forgive you!”*
JAMES: *”Ill fix this! Come home!”*
Emily smirked. *Home* was hers again.
The bank was *furious* about the forged signature. Police filed charges. James begged her to drop it. *Too late.*
“You nearly caved,” Lucy noted.
“Till I realisedfamily doesnt mean *squatters rights,*” Emily said.
That night, she changed the locks, binned Margarets hideous vase, and rearranged *everything.*
Next morning, a court summons arrivedJames was suing for “his share.” Emily *cackled.* Let him trythe deeds were ironclad. *His* fraud case, however
Another text:
MARGARET: *”Come to your senses! You cant abandon FAMILY!”*
Emily hit *delete.* In her new life, “family” meant *respect*or nothing at all.
