«Clear out a room in the housemy parents will be moving in,» my husband announced, as though it were already settled.
Emily was at her desk when a knock sounded at the study door. James stepped inside, eyeing the familiar space with an odd, appraising look.
«Mind if I come in?» he asked, though hed already crossed the threshold.
She nodded without glancing up from her screen. The house had been left to her by her late aunt Margaret five years agospacious, bright, with three proper bedrooms. Emily had turned one into her ideal workspace, a quiet sanctuary of order and focus.
«Listen,» James began, perching on the edge of the armchair. «Mum and Dad are going on again about how exhausting London is.»
Emily finally turned to him. A decade of marriage had taught her to read his tone. There was something hesitant in it now.
«Mum says she cant sleep for the noise,» James went on. «And Dads fed up with the constant rushing about. Not to mention how steep the rents got.»
«Right,» she replied flatly, turning back to her work.
But the mentions of his parents didnt stop. Every evening, James found another reason to bring them upthe pollution, the noisy flat upstairs, the endless stairs in their building.
«They just want a bit of peace, you know?» he said over dinner one night. «A proper home.»
Emily chewed slowly, thinking. James had never been one for long conversations. This sudden fixation on his parents troubles was strange.
«What are you suggesting?» she asked carefully.
«Nothing, really,» he shrugged. «Just thinking about them.»
A week later, Emily noticed James lingering in her study more often than usualfirst under the pretence of looking for paperwork, then for no reason at all. Hed pause by the wall, as if measuring the space in his mind.
«Nice room,» he remarked one evening. «Plenty of light.»
Emily looked up from her papers. There was something new in his voicesomething calculating.
«Yes, it works well for me,» she said.
«You know,» James said, walking to the window, «maybe you could shift your desk into the bedroom? Youd manage fine in there.»
Her stomach tightened. Emily set down her pen and studied him.
«Why would I move? This suits me perfectly.»
«Just a thought,» he muttered.
But the idea didnt leave her. Emily began noticing how James eyed the room, mentally rearranging furniture. How he lingered in the doorway, as if already picturing something else in its place.
«Listen,» he said a few days later, «dont you think its time to clear this room out? Just in case.»
The words sounded like a foregone conclusion. Emily stiffened.
«Why would I clear it out?» she asked, sharper than shed intended.
«No reason,» James said, shifting. «Just thought itd be handy for guests.»
But she understood now. All the talk about his parents, all the casual remarks about the studypieces of a plan she hadnt been part of.
«James,» she said slowly, «just say it outright. Whats going on?»
He turned to the window, avoiding her gaze. The silence stretched. Emily realisedsomething had already been decided. Without her.
«James,» she repeated firmly, «what is it?»
He turned back, his expression uneasy, but something resolute flickered in his eyes.
«Mum and Dad really are knackered by the city,» he began carefully. «They need somewhere quiet.»
Emily stood. A creeping dread filled herone shed tried to ignore for weeks.
«And whats your solution?» she asked, though she already knew.
«Were family,» James said, as if that explained everything. «Weve got the space.»
Space. Her study, her retreat, her workjust spare space. Emily clenched her fists.
«This isnt spare space,» she said slowly. «This is my office.»
«You could work in the bedroom,» he shrugged. «Theyve got nowhere else.»
The words sounded rehearsed. Emily knewthis conversation had happened before. Just not with her.
«James, this is my house,» she said sharply. «I never agreed to your parents moving in.»
«But you dont mind, do you?» he countered, impatience creeping in. «Were family, arent we?»
That word again. Family. As if it meant she had no say. Emily walked to the window, steadying herself.
«What if I do mind?» she asked, not turning around.
«Dont be selfish,» James shot back. «Theyre getting on.»
Selfish. For wanting to keep her workspace. For expecting to be consulted. Emily faced him.
«Selfish?» she repeated. «For wanting my opinion to matter?»
«Come off it,» he said dismissively. «Its what family does. We cant leave them stranded.»
Family duty. Another neat phrase to shut her up. But Emily wasnt staying quiet any longer.
«And what about my right to my own home?» she asked.
«Stop making a drama,» he sighed. «Its just moving a desk.»
Just moving a desk. Years of making this space perfectjust an inconvenience. Emily saw her husband as if for the first time.
«When did you decide all this?» she asked quietly.
«I havent decided anything,» James said defensively. «Just looking at options.»
«Youre lying,» she said. «Youve already spoken to your parents, havent you?»
The silence said it all. Emily sat back down, trying to take it in.
«So, youve discussed it with everyone but me,» she stated.
«Enough,» James snapped. «What does it matter who Ive talked to?»
What does it matter. Her consent, her homewhat does it matter. Emily realised her husband was acting like the owner, ignoring her entirely.
The next morning, James strode into the kitchen like a man whod made up his mind. Emily sat with her tea, waiting for the next act.
«Listen,» he began bluntly, «Mum and Dad have decided to move in.»
Emily looked up. His tone left no room for debate.
«Clear out the studytheyll be staying there,» he added, as if giving instructions to staff.
For Emily, it was a moment of clarity. She hadnt even been part of the conversation. James hadnt askedhed simply excluded her.
Her hands shook slightly around the cup. Inside, something turned over as the betrayal sank in. James stood there, waiting, as if expecting obedience.
«Are you serious?» she said slowly. «Youve just decided for me? I told you yesterday I wasnt happy with this!»
«Dont overreact,» he said irritably. «It makes sense. Where else would they go?»
Emily set down her tea and stood. Her hands trembled with quiet fury.
«James, youve betrayed me,» she said plainly. «Youve put your parents above us.»
«Dont be melodramatic,» he muttered. «Its family.»
«And what am I, then? A lodger?» Her voice sharpened. «Youve trampled over my boundaries in my own home!»
James turned away, clearly unprepared for her pushback. All these years, shed gone along quietly. But something had finally snapped.
«You treat me like an afterthought,» Emily continued. «Like I should just bend to whatever you decide.»
«Stop being hysterical,» he snapped. «Its not that big a deal.»
Not a big deal. Her voice ignored, her space takenjust nothing. Emily stepped closer.
«Im not giving up my study,» she said firmly. «And Im certainly not having your parents move in uninvited.»
«How can you say that?» James exploded. «Theyre my parents!»
«And this is my house!» Emily shot back. «And I wont live with a man who treats me like I dont matter!»
He recoiled, seeing real anger in her for the first time in years. Her eyes held a resolve hed never noticed before.
«You dont get it,» he said weakly. «Theyre relying on us.»
«And you dont get me,» Emily cut in. «Ten years, and you still dont see me as an equal.»
She walked to the counter, gathering her thoughts. Words shed swallowed for years finally spilled out.
«You know what, James?» she said, turning back. «Get out.»
«What?» He gaped. «What are you on about?»
«I wont live with a man who doesnt respect me,» Emily said, clear and cold.
James opened his mouth but found no words. He hadnt expected this.
«This is our home,» he mumbled.
«Legally, its mine,» Emily reminded him. «And I want you gone.»
He stood there, stunned. For once, he realised hed crossed a line.
«Em, lets talk this through,» he tried. «We can sort something out.»
«Too late,» she said. «You
