**Diary Entry**
I suppose I’m just convenient. Forgotten until needed.
Oliver arrived at his mother-in-law’s to collect his wife after yet another “little disagreement.” He pulled up beside the crumbling postwar block of flats, straightened his collar, and walked toward the entrance. Just as he reached the door, he caught a glimpse of someone by the first-floor window. His heart stalled.
“Mum? What are you doing here?” he blurted, recognizing his own mother.
“Shh,” whispered Margaret Stevens, motioning him closer. “Come here.”
“What’s going on?” Oliver frowned.
“Just listen,” she murmured, nodding at the slightly open window.
From his mother-in-law’s flat came the sound of women’s voices—loud, unguarded. It was Emily, his wife, and her mum.
“Mum, you should’ve seen their faces. Especially her—all weepy. ‘It’s my fault, I let something happen to the baby!’” Emily let out a harsh laugh. “Right on schedule. And my Ollie? Perfect. The second there’s trouble, he comes running like a loyal little spaniel. Even took me to hospital. I knew if I didn’t pin him down with this ‘pregnancy,’ he’d never propose.”
“Emily… that’s awful,” her mother said hesitantly.
“Mum, you don’t get it. The goal is getting that three-bed in Kensington out of him. I’ve already told them—we ‘need’ to move in together now that the baby’s coming. After that, we’ll nudge the old folk out somehow. The best part? Oliver will swallow it all. He’s not the stomping-out type. You guide him softly, just right… the way *I* need.”
Oliver stood frozen, chest hollow, as if his heart had been carved out. Every word locked him in place. Beside him, his mother tightened her grip on his hand.
“You heard?” she murmured.
He nodded, face ashen.
“Let’s go.”
They climbed the stairs. Oliver jabbed the buzzer. The door swung open to reveal Emily, still glowing—probably from her own performance.
“Darling! You’re early?” she chirped, forcing a smile.
“Save the act. I’ll bring your things tomorrow,” he said, eerily calm. “And I’m filing for divorce.”
“What? Are you mad? Why?”
“Because I heard everything. The ‘pregnancy,’ the flat, how *convenient* I am. Thanks for showing me who you really are.”
Emily floundered, words stuck in her throat.
Margaret only tossed a look toward her former daughter-in-law.
“I blamed myself, you know. Thought I’d failed you—that I couldn’t bridge the gap. Turns out a mother’s heart always knows. I just didn’t want to see it.”
They left. Oliver didn’t look back. His chest felt lighter, like he’d finally shrugged off a lead weight. He walked in silence, his mother beside him—for once not lecturing, just squeezing his hand. A quiet support, stronger than any speech.
