Let Igor Enjoy His Holiday While You Get Back to Work,” Said the Mother-in-Law

When the jangle of keys echoed in the lock, Emilys heart sank. She knew that commanding click of heels down the hallway better than the rhythm of her own pulse. Eight months pregnant, every movement was an ordealand now she had to face the one person she feared more than labour itself. The door swung open, and in stormed a hurricane of disapproval in the form of Margaret Whitmore.

“What in heavens name!” her mother-in-law exclaimed instead of a greeting. “Why does my daughter-in-law look so miserable?”

Margarets arrival was the last thing Emily wanted. Shed planned to rest after lunchthe weight beneath her heart demanded constant respite. Even simple chores had become tests of endurance. Finally, maternity leave had offered some relief, but those plans crumbled in an instant.

“Welcome, Margaret,” Emily murmured, stepping aside obediently.

“Wheres my Oliver?” Margarets eyes darted past her, searching for her son.

“Working,” Emily replied, voice steady. “Providing for us and the baby.”

“Cant you manage on your own?” Margaret dumped her unexpectedly heavy suitcases and swept into the flat, nearly knocking Emily off her feet. “Youre a grown womansoon to be a mother! Time to act like one!”

Once inside, Margaret inspected every corner like a military inspector. Emilys unease grew.

“Did you come for something specific?” she ventured. “Forgot something?”

Margaret turned, baffled. “Oh? Ill be living here now.”

Emilys knees nearly gave way.

“But how?”

“That dreadful man I rented frominsufferable!” Margaret snapped. “I wont tolerate his cheek another moment. Packed and left immediately. The flats in my late husbands name, and finding a new ones a nightmare. So, Ill stay here.”

Dread coiled tighter in Emilys chest. Yes, their home was spaciousbut did that give Margaret the right to barge in uninvited?

She wanted to argue, but exhaustion won. Silently, she retreated to the bedroom to wait for Oliver.

When he returned, little changed. He pitied his mother. Though Margaret was a terror, shed raised himhe couldnt abandon her.

Emily bit her tongue, understanding. Maybe an extra pair of hands around the house would help?

That hope vanished within days. Margaret seized control of their domestic life. Oliver worked long hours, leaving Emily to adjustan impossible task.

Nothing pleased Margaret. Unwashed floors, crumbs on the table, a single unrinsed cupall drew scorn.

“Margaret,” Emily sighed, “the baby makes bending difficult. My back aches, my feet swell”

“Oh, spare me!” Margaret folded her arms. “Women bear the worlds burdens! So what if youre pregnant? Thats no excuse! I raised a sonI know better!”

Emily said nothing. She wouldnt risk stress for the babys sake.

One weekday, with Oliver at work, groceries ran low. Emily hesitated before asking for help.

“Fine, Ill come,” Margaret sniffed. “God knows youll bungle it otherwise.”

“Thank you” Emily wouldve preferred going alone, but her body couldnt manage.

The trip passed without incidentsave Margarets endless complaints.

“Hurry up!” she snapped as they left. “Take the bags. Time to go.”

Emily blinked. “Carry them? But the doctor said”

“Oh, dont be dramatic!” Margaret mocked. “Its barely anything!”

Emily obeyed. But after a few steps, dizziness struck.

“Oh” she gasped, swaying.

“What now?” Margaret didnt flinch. “Cant even manage bags?”

Emilys hearing faded.

“Maam? Maam!” A stranger steadied her. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, Ill be fine.” She waved him off.

“Pathetic,” Margaret muttered.

Luckily, the spell passed. Reluctantly, Margaret shouldered some bags, and they trudged home.

When Oliver heard, he rushed back.

“Emily, love,” he murmured, stroking her hand, “why didnt you wait? Id have gone myself!”

“I thought I could manage,” she whispered. “You work so hard”

“Why didnt you ask Mum?”

Emily closed her eyes. “She made me carry them. When I nearly fainted, she justwalked on.”

Oliver froze.

“Mum?” he whispered, disbelieving.

Silence fell. Emilys shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

“Ill handle this,” he said firmly, striding to Margarets room.

The argument was muffled but fierce. Emily prayed it might bring peace.

Then, blisstheir daughter, Charlotte, arrived. Oliver wept with joy. Surely, life would brighten now.

But reality was harsher. Motherhood was relentless. Nights blurred into exhaustion, Charlottes cries endless.

“And you call yourself a mother!” Margaret sneered, critiques unending.

If anything, Olivers confrontation had worsened things. Margarets barbs grew sharper, her help nonexistent.

One evening, as Emily finally ate after settling Charlotte, Oliver returnedsilent, grim. He shut the bedroom door.

Dread pooled in Emilys stomach.

When he emerged, his face was ashen.

“Ive been sacked,” he said flatly.

They sat in stunned silence. ThenCharlotte wailed. Emily forced herself up, duty overriding despair.

“Ill figure something out,” Oliver said.

“I know.” She kissed him weakly and went to their daughter.

The next day, as they strategized, Margaret interrupted.

“Planning, are we?” she sneered. “Why must my son shoulder everything? When will you work?”

Emily stared.

“Pardon?”

“Whats unclear? Oliver can stay homeyou get a job!”

Emilys heart plummeted. She was drowning in fatigue, and Margaret

But Oliver snapped.

“Mum, how dare you?” he roared. “Emily tends to our child day and night! Shes exhausted! And youyou do nothing but harass her!”

Margaret gaped.

“Oliver!”

“Shes raising my child!” he shot back. “You? Youre just cruel. Find a flat. Leave.”

Margarets face twisted.

“After all Ive done”

“Go.”

She stormed out days later, muttering about ungrateful children.

Peace returned. Oliver found work; Emily grew into motherhood. They never spoke to Margaret againand didnt miss her.

Better no grandmother than one like that.