“You’re not family,” snapped the mother-in-law, scooping the meat from her daughter-in-laws plate back into the pot.
Emily froze by the stove, the empty dish still in her hands. Only traces of gravy remained from the beef stew Rosemary had just served. One by one, the chunks of meat vanished into the pot as if her mother-in-law had counted each piece.
“Excuse me?” Emilys voice was barely audible, disbelief tightening her throat.
“Whats unclear?” Rosemary wiped her hands on her apron and turned sharply. “We never welcomed you into this family. You pushed your way in.”
The kitchen fell so silent that the bubbling soup on the hob sounded deafening. Emily set the plate down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hands trembled.
“Rosemary, I dont understand. Victor and I have been married five years! We have a daughter”
“And what of it?” The older woman cut her off. “Sophies our blood, yes. But you? Youll always be an outsider.”
The door creaked open, and Victor shuffled in, hair ruffled, shirt half-unbuttonedclearly just woken from a post-work nap.
“Whats going on?” He glanced between his wife and mother. “Why the shouting?”
“We werent shouting,” Rosemary said smoothly. “Just talking. Explaining how your wife should behave in *our* home.”
Victor frowned at Emily. She stood pale-lipped, hands clenched.
“Mum, what did you say?”
“The truth. That not everyone gets a share. Familys large, portions are small.”
A lump rose in Emilys throat. Five years. Five years shed believed she belonged. Five years biting her tongue, enduring jabs, hoping things would soften with time.
“Vic, Im going home,” she whispered. “To Mums.”
“What dyou mean, *home*?” Rosemary bristled. “Your homes here now. Or do you think you can come and go as you please?”
“Mum, enough.” Victor stepped toward Emily. “What happened?”
She couldnt speak. How to explain his mother had just branded her a stranger? That even a plate of stew was too much to spare?
“Ill pack Sophies things,” she said instead. “Take her to Mums for the weekend.”
“And whys that?” Rosemary flared. “Her grandmothers right here!”
“Her grandmother thinks her mother isnt family,” Emily said softly. “Maybe her granddaughter deserves better.”
She turned to leave. Victor grabbed her wrist.
“Em, wait! Talk to me properly.”
Emily faced him. His confusion was plain; behind him, Rosemary stirred the soup, pretending not to listen.
“Ask your mother,” Emily said. “Shell tell you better.”
In the nursery, three-year-old Sophie giggled, feeding a doll. “Mummy! Look, Im giving Daisy porridge!”
“Good job, sweetheart.” Emily knelt, hugging her. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes! Granny said were having stew tonight!”
“We are, darling. But well have it at Grandma Helens.”
“Grandmas?” Sophie beamed. “Yay! Is Daddy coming?”
“No. Daddys staying here.”
Emily packed hastilydresses, tights, toys, enough for days. As she folded a jumper, Victor appeared in the doorway.
“Em, this is childish. Why run off over nonsense?”
“*Childish?*” Emily straightened. “Your mother just told me Im not family. Took food from my plate! Thats nonsense?”
“She says things! You know how she is. Shell forget by tomorrow.”
“But I wont, Vic. This isnt the first time.”
“Oh, come off it! Shes stressed. Works been rough.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“Stressed? Five years of stress? And Im always the target!”
“Just ignore her!”
“Ignore being called a stranger in my own home? Listen to yourself!”
Victor rubbed his neck, pacing. A telltale signhe did it when cornered.
“Em, wherell you go? Were a family. Weve got Sophie.”
“Thats why Im leaving. I wont have her hear her mother belittled.”
“Whos belittling you? Mum just voiced her opinion.”
“*Opinion?*” Emily stopped packing. “She took food from me, Vic. Said I dont belong! Thats an opinion?”
“Well maybe it was harsh. But she raised us alone after Dad died. Shes used to controlling things.”
“And Im supposed to endure that forever?”
Victor sat on the bed, taking her hands.
“Em, dont fight. Ill talk to her.”
“Talk? Tell her Im human? That I have feelings?”
“Yeah. Ill say she cant be rude.”
Emily shook her head.
“Its not about rudeness, Vic. She doesnt accept me. And you let her.”
“She just needs time”
“Five years wasnt enough? How much longer?”
From the kitchen, Rosemary called: “Vic! Dinners ready!”
Victor stood. “Come on, lets eat. Well talk after.”
“No thanks. Ive lost my appetite.”
He hovered, then left. Emily heard murmurs from the kitchenvoices rising, falling.
She dialled her mother.
“Mum? Its me. Can we stay a few days?”
“Of course, love. Whats wrong?”
“Later. Were leaving now.”
“Alright. Ive made soupplenty for everyone.”
Emily smiled faintly. Mum always said that. Never counted portions, never withheld.
Sophie chattered happily on the bus, recounting her dolls adventures.
“Mummy, why didnt Daddy come?” she asked as they neared Grandmas street.
“Daddys working, sweetheart. Hell visit soon.”
Helen met them at the door, radiant. The opposite of Rosemarywarm, gentle, endlessly kind.
“Ive missed you!” She scooped Sophie up. “Look how big you are!”
“Grandma, do you have new stories?”
“Of course! Well read after dinner.”
At the table, Helen ladled soup into generous bowls.
“Eat up, love. Emily, youre skin and bones! Dont they feed you?”
“Ive not been hungry.”
“You will be. Home comforts heal.”
*Home.* Emily glanced aroundcozy kitchen, lace curtains, photos on the walls. Here, no one called her an outsider.
Later, after Sophie slept, they sipped tea at the table.
“Tell me,” Helen said.
Emily recounted the stew, the words, the quiet cruelty. Helen listened, stirring her tea.
“And how did Vic react?”
“Like always. Said she was tired, that I should let it go.”
“I see.” Helen sighed. “And how do *you* feel?”
“Tired, Mum. So tired. Five years trying, and she still hates me.”
“Give me examples.”
Emily exhaled.
“My cookings wrong. My cleanings wrong. When Sophie was ill last month, she said I was a rubbish mother.”
“And Vic?”
“He stays silent. Or says shes just worried about Sophie.”
Helen set her cup down.
“Love, are you happy in this marriage?”
The question stunned her. Silence stretched as Emily watched raindrops streak the window.
“I dont know. I was. Now I feel like a guest in my own life.”
“Why didnt you tell me sooner?”
“I thought itd pass. That shed warm to me.”
“Clearly not.”
Rain pattered gently.
“Mum when you married Dad, how did Grandma treat you?”
Helen smiled.
“Your grandma Margaret? Called me daughter from day one. Loved me more than her own Linda, truth be told.”
“Why?”
“Because she saw I loved her son. And he loved me. Where theres love, theres always room.”
Emily pondered. Did Vic love her? Truly? Or was it just habit?
Her phone rangVictor.
“Em, where are you?” He sounded strained.
“At Mums. Like I said.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Dont know. Maybe Sunday.”
“*Sunday?* Youve got work tomorrow!”
“I called in sick.”
A pause.
“Em, stop this. Come home. Well talk properly.”
“About what? How your mother doesnt see me as human?”
“Oh, grow up! Shes just herself. She needs time.”
“Five years wasnt enough?”
“Em, dont make this harder. Familys all weve got.”
“*Your* familys all *youve* got. Turns out Ive got none.”
She hung up. Helen word
