It’s your mother so its your responsibility! he shouted, but Eleanor clenched her jaw, biting back the fury that threatened to spill. Yet again today she faced the nightmare she dreaded most: a visit to her motherinlaw. From the first moment their relationship had been a constant skirmish.
Margaret Hughes had never accepted Eleanor as her sons wife. No matter what Eleanor did, Margaret found a flaw, a new criticism to hurl.
Again, Eleanor? Marc sighed, watching her tightlipped stare. You dont want to go, do you?
Eleanor let out a bitter laugh.
Are you really asking me that, Marc? You know exactly why I dont want to go!
Her eyes flared.
Shell nag me, put me down, tell me Im a terrible mother! Shell claim Im not raising our boy properly! As if she doesnt see I work, run the house, cook, clean and pay every bill! Im the one holding this family together!
But youre at home all day, Marc shrugged.
Eleanors gaze darkened.
Oh, really? You think I just sit around doing nothing? Or that money falls from the sky?
I work too, he growled. Its not my fault Im not paid more.
The truth was that Eleanors freelance design earnings were three times Marcs salary. She was the familys breadwinner.
Cant you go alone? she asked, hoping for an escape.
Its Mothers Day, Eleanor! You cant ignore my mother! he replied, sighing as he dressed their son. Two hours later they were at Margarets townhouse.
In the sitting room, Marcs niece, Emma, was already perched on the sofa. Eleanor had long sensed Margarets preference for Emma, treating her like royalty while barely acknowledging her own grandson. It was no surprise; Emma had lost her parents five years earlier, and Margaret had raised her as her own.
Around them, Margarets sisters laughed loudly, clinking their glasses of sherry.
Then, abruptly, Margaret dropped a bombshell.
Ive made a decision, she announced solemnly. Ill bequeath my flat to Emma. You, Marc, already have a home.
Marc didnt flinch; he merely nodded.
A few days later the paperwork was settled. The flat now belonged to Emma, on the condition she could only move in after Margarets death.
But fate had other plans. A sudden stroke left Margaret paralysed, unable to care for herself.
We have to move in with Mum, Marc declared, his tone final. She cant be left alone.
A cold shiver ran through Eleanor. She knew what that meant.
She would have to feed, dress, bathe her, while still working and looking after their son.
She said nothing.
Weeks passed, and Eleanors patience frayed.
One night she finally erupted.
Marc, Emma owns the flat. Shouldnt she be looking after Mum?
Emmas at university, Eleanor. She has a boyfriend. You expect him to move in here? Marc snapped.
Eleanor laughed, a dry, icy sound that bordered on madness.
I cant take this anymore!
He crossed his arms.
Oh, I see. Youre exhausted already?
Her hands trembled with rage.
Im suffocating! Everything rests on me! YOU, your mother, our child, my job I CANT!
But you work from home, he muttered, smug.
Eleanors stare cut sharper than shattered glass.
And what? You think I dont work at all?
Her heart hammered.
You know what? From now on its YOUR turn to look after your mother!
Its my mother, but shes also your motherinlaw! Thats your duty! You want me to wash her, perhaps?
A deathly silence fell.
Then Eleanor spoke, voice calm and frosty:
I owe you nothing.
Marc chuckled.
In that case, hire a care worker!
Oh? Youll pay for it?
Why should I be the one to pay?
No care worker then.
He crossed his arms again.
Use Mums pension. Or your salary?
Marcs features hardened.
And why do I even have a wife?
That was the trigger. Something inside Eleanor finally shattered.
Everything blazed with a blinding clarity.
Marc had been using her for years.
And Emma? She hadnt even bothered to visit her grandmother.
That night Eleanor lay awake, eyes wide.
At dawn she knew what she must do.
The moment Marc left the house, she packed her bag, took their son, and walked out.
She sent one short message, then blocked his number:
I will not shoulder this burden alone.
That evening Marc stormed back.
Either you come back, or Ill file for divorce!
Eleanor smiled softly.
Go ahead. I was about to.
For the first time Marc looked lost.
She wasnt waiting for apologies. Her decision was set.
A month later their divorce was final. Marc never apologized.
And Eleanor?
She never regretted leaving.
Six months later she heard the news.
Margaret had died.
And Emma?
She threw Marc out without a glimpse of remorse.
Only then did he understand.
He had lost everything.
