“Gloria keeps raving about your houseI just had to see where youve squandered all that money,” said Margaret with a smug smirk.
For four long years, Emily and Victor had poured their sweat and savings into building their dream two-storey countryside home. Every spare moment went into renovations, and finally, the big move arrived. With their three children in tow, they settled in, ready for a blissful family life. Everything wouldve been perfectif not for Victors mother, Margaret, whod always dismissed the whole project as a ludicrous waste of cash.
No sooner had they unpacked than relatives started dropping by for tours. Everyone managed a visit within two monthsexcept Margaret. Friends and family gushed over the place, and naturally, word got back to her.
“Victor and Emilys house is like something out of a fairy tale!” Margarets own sister enthused. “Have you seen it?”
“Oh, not yetbeen far too busy,” Margaret replied, feigning indifference.
That evening, curiosity got the better of her. She texted her son, demanding photos.
“Gloria wont stop praising your house. Lets see what youve blown your savings on,” she quipped, that trademark smirk practically audible through the message. Oblivious, Victor sent a few snaps. The moment she saw them, Margarets disapproval was instant.
“How lovely that *everyone* else has been invited except me. Even the postmans probably had a tour by now!”
“Maybe because you called it a ridiculous waste of money for four years?” Victor reminded her.
“Oh, must you dredge up ancient history? Let sleeping dogs lie,” she sniffed, forcing a smile.
“And let fools lie twice as long,” Victor shot back.
Quick to change the subject, Margaret circled back to the house. “Just text me the address. Im coming over.”
Victor obliged, and the very next day, Margaret arrived unannounced. Emily, completely unaware of the impromptu visit, was stunned.
“Victor, why wasnt I warned?” she hissed.
“Didnt think shed actually turn up this fast,” he admitted, equally baffled by his mothers sudden urgency.
Margaret swept in bearing giftsthree measly chocolate bars for the grandkids, which Emily noted with quiet amusement. Not that she expected muchMargaret had never been the doting grandmother type.
Her inspection of the house was relentless, her face a masterclass in poorly concealed disdain. Victor couldnt pinpoint the issueuntil after two glasses of champagne at dinner.
“Why should I be stuck in a poky flat while *Her Majesty* here lives in a palace?” Margaret demanded, gesturing at Emily.
“Whats wrong with your flat? We sold your old one-bedder, topped it up, and bought you a two-bedroom! Not to mention the £200 I send you every month. Hardly penniless, are you?” Victor snapped.
“Oh, so I should be *grateful*? I *am*! But I want a house too!”
“Mum, this was our familys dream. Whats it got to do with you?”
“*Whats it got to do with me*? Who gave birth to you? Who raised you? Dont I deserve a bit of luxury? Why wasnt I invited?”
Emily, listening in disbelief, muttered, “Victor, save your breath. Shes just jealous.”
He shot her a knowing look but still felt that stubborn pang of guilt. “Mum, this house is for *us*. Youve got a lovely flat”
“*Lovely*? Let your wife live there, then! Ill take the house!”
Margarets audacity was staggering. Emilys patience snapped.
“See how she repays our kindness? Constant demands, insults, undermining me at every turn”
Margaret responded by rolling her eyes and reaching for more champagne. Victor steered her outside for a frank chat.
“Mum, your constant negativity is exhausting. The kids avoid you, Emilys at her wits endliving together isnt an option.”
“So *Im* the villain? Or is your wife whispering in your ear?”
“Listen carefully. This house is our happiness. I wont let you wreck it.”
“*Im* the wrecking ball? Of coursepoor, saintly *Emily*! No one cares how *I* feel!” Margaret spat, lip trembling. “Message received!” She called a taxi and stormed out without a goodbye.
Their relationship never recovered. A month later, Margaret called Victor in a rageshed decided to sell her flat and buy a house. Buyers were lined up, until she discovered *Victor* owned the property.
“You cheated me! Sold the old place and put this one in *your* name!”
“Maybe because *I* paid the difference for the two-bedroom? Was that my right, or not?”
“Youve taken *everything*!” she shrieked, slamming the phone down.
After that, silence. All attempts to reach her were met with icy refusal.
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