“Your wife’s gotten completely out of hand—explain to her how to behave,” lectured Max’s mum “Marin…

Your wife is getting far too cheeky. You need to explain to her how to behave, my mum lectured me sternly, nudging me about Isabelle.

Isabelle, its my housewarming tomorrow! Ive invited so many people, and you know, nothings been sorted out in the flat yet. Youll help, wont you?

Of course, Mrs Smith, Isabelle replied sweetly, even though shed planned an entirely different weekend.

Thats when the madness began. Canapés for thirty people. Chicken Caesar salad. Cold cuts. Fruit platters. Decorating the lounge. Rearranging furniture.

Picture this: instead of a romantic Friday evening with my wife, Im pushing a trolley around Tesco. Saturday, up at six sharp, cooking in my mothers flat.

James, could you at least help me sort out the chairs? Isabelle asked me, exasperated.

Oh, you know best how to make things look nice, I shrugged, scrolling through BBC News on my phone.

By three oclock, mums place had been transformed. The lounge was set out with a lavish buffet, the flowers were perfectly arranged. Isabelle looked at it all, worn out but quietly proud.

The first guests arrived right on four. Mums colleagues, old neighbours, friends from her book club. Everyone hugged her, complimented the flat, handed over John Lewis gift cards and congratulated her on her new home.

Isabelle was in the kitchen, slicing extra lemon.

Wheres your daughter-in-law? one guest asked with curiosity.

Oh, shes flitting around the kitchen, mum replied offhandedly. Isabelle! Come and say hello!

Isabelle came out, smiled, greeted everyone politely.

My, your daughter-in-law is ever so caring! an elegantly dressed woman exclaimed. You can tell shes handy!

Yes, I raised her well, mum laughed, preening herself. Now Ive got a proper help around the place.

And then the twist. There wasnt even a chair for Isabelle.

Oh, Isabelle, its not like youll get a chance to sit anyway, mum excused herself with a mock apologetic tone. Best keep an eye on the food, and bring out the plates.

Isabelle nodded; what else could she do?

So she stood off to one side, like a waitress, topping up champagne, serving nibbles, clearing up used napkins while the table buzzed with conversation, toasts and laughter.

Do you remember, Maureen, how we used to be at your old office one woman began, and everyone giggled along.

Isabelle quietly listened to stories of lives where she was just an extra.

Isabelle, could you refresh the fruit? mum called out loudly.

Isabelle disappeared into the kitchen. Washes grapes. Styles them on a platter.

What a spread! the guests gushed. Mrs Smith, youve got a real star helping you!

James really is clever to have chosen such a practical wife, the lady in the suit chimed in. I bet dinners always ready and the place spotless!

Everyone laughed. I grinned, pride on my face.

Proud of what, though? Having a free housekeeper?

But the awkwardness didnt end there.

The gathering got livelier. Guests loosened up, the chatter got louder and more familiar.

Oh Maureen, tell us about when James drove all the girls wild at university! one of mums old friends teased, giggling.

Oh, nothing to tell! mum waved her hand, but clearly loving the attention. Every girl fancied him! Twenty and such a heart-throb!

Everyone burst out laughing. I blushed, but mums flattery was hardly new.

Isabelle stood by the drinks station, polishing glasses, barely acknowledged by anyone. She may as well have been part of the furniture invisible, but needed.

At university, girls lined up for him! mum bragged. Dean joked, James is a real Casanova! And it turned out true! He had so many flings before Isabelle came along.

Alright, mum, I tried to stop her, feebly.

Whats wrong with that? Isabelle knows shes not the only one, mum smirked. A mans got to have a life! Otherwise, hows he supposed to build a family?

The lady in a suit nodded approvingly.

Quite right, Maureen. For women, its better then you know your husbands experienced.

Exactly! mum agreed, turning to Isabelle. And Isabelle isnt the jealous type!

Everyone looked at Isabelle, waiting for her to confirm.

Isabelle nodded. What else could she do?

How did you two meet, Isabelle? asked a neighbour.

Isabelle started to answer, but mum cut in:

At Lloyds Bank! Hed just become manager, she was working as an adviser. You could tell she was serious, reliable.

Reliable. Like a job reference.

I told James, Pay attention to her. Not flighty, but homely. Good for a family!

Imagine being described like a piece of merchandise: ‘Good for a family’.

You chose well! the suited lady declared. She organised all of this and looked after everyone.

Indeed, mum affirmed, swelling with pride. I knew I could trust her with the family. Not like these selfish modern girls, only caring for themselves.

And James me I just sat there silently. Didnt protest, didnt speak up. Just listened to them compare my wife as if she was a prize mare at an auction.

Then, predictably, came the So, when are the children coming? question. Maureen, you must be dreaming of grandkids!

Mum sighed dramatically.

I do dream! But young couples these days, always putting it off career and all that. But time moves on!

Isabelle flushed. The subject was painful. She and I had been trying for two years, doctor appointments, vitamins, hope evaporating with every month.

Well, thats their private matter, the neighbour said tactfully.

Of course! mum agreed. But Ive dropped hints its time! The years dont wait. I would love to spoil a grandchild.

Isabelle pressed her lips tightly. Hints? Mum asked every week, Any good news? And Isabelle always blushed, mumbling apologies.

What if theyre not ready yet? a guest suggested carefully.

Not ready, indeed! mum dismissed. In our day, we just had children, no questions asked! Now its all not ready for this, not ready for that. But the maternal instinct is still there, isnt it?

Isabelle moved over to the window.

Isabelle! mum called. Why look so glum? Come over, were discussing important things.

Isabelle obliged, standing next to my armchair.

Look at Jamess wife so obliging, mum continued. You ask she does. Not like these modern sorts, only making demands.

What rights does a wife have? pondered the suited lady. The main thing is that the husbands happy, and the family prospers.

Exactly, agreed another guest. A womans happiness lies in family, and children.

Isabelle listened, feeling herself shrink inside. They talked about her, never with her.

Maureen, do you remember Jamess first serious girlfriend? Wasnt her name Chloe?

Oh, dont remind me! mum cackled. Pretty enough, but so difficult. Always wanted a say, always contradicted. Not a wife, but a punishment! I told James plain: Son, think carefully. Do you want to put up with that?

I shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

And right you were! the suited lady agreed. Mothers know best what suits their sons. Otherwise, hed be miserable for life.

Isabelle, could you bring more ice, please? mum asked.

Isabelle nodded, heading to the kitchen. She opened the freezer, took out the ice tray and stared at the cubes.

For a moment, it hit her: she wasnt part of this celebration. She was the staff.

Isabelle stood in the kitchen with the tub of ice and gazed out the window. Evening shadows crept over the city, lights glowing on neighbours balconies real lives happening.

From the lounge came the cheerful noise. Someone was singing ABBA on karaoke. Guests chimed in.

Isabelle! mum called. Wheres that ice? And could you put the coffee machine on?

Isabelle switched on the machine. Grabbed the ice tub, walked into the lounge.

Heres our hard worker! joked the lady in the suit. Isabelle, youre so serious join in!

Shes just exhausted, mum brushed off. Been on her feet all day. Still, a woman must do everything. Its just our lot caring for the family.

Quite right! said the neighbour. The husband provides.

Dont I also provide? Isabelle asked quietly.

Everyone turned. Silence hung in the room.

Sorry, dear? mum asked, a little confused.

I said dont I also provide?

I frowned.

Isabelle, whats this about?

Well, Auntie Helen said the husband brings in the money and enjoys his rest. But I work too, dont I?

Guests exchanged glances, not expecting this.

Yes, you do, the suited lady said diplomatically. But its not the same, is it?

How so?

Well Youre an adviser. James runs project teams. Theres more responsibility with him.

I see. So my work is not real work. Domestic duties are mine too. That means I work at the office and at home. James only works at the office. But he’s the one supposed to rest.

Awkwardness thickened.

Isabelle, what are you on about? I snapped, embarrassed. Whats this got to do with anything?

Its this, she said, returning the ice tub to the table, Ive spent two days preparing this party. Shopping, cooking, decorating. Today Ive been working non-stop. And not even a seat for me at the table.

We didnt mean it! mum tried to explain. Just a miscalculation.

A miscalculation, Isabelle echoed. No one thought about me, because Im just the help.

Isabelle! I rebuked harshly. Enough!

Enough what? Speaking the truth?

Isabelle, calm down, a guest interjected weakly. Just nerves.

Dont make a scene! mum said stiffly. Dont embarrass us in front of people!

But its fine to discuss my life in front of everyone? Fine to comment that I dont have children? Fine to talk about Jamess exes?

Mum paled.

I didnt mean to.

You talked about Chloe how glad you were because she had opinions. And everyone agreed good that now James has a convenient wife.

Isabelle looked each person in the eye.

You know what? Chloe was right! She didnt let herself become free labour!

What are you saying! I stood up sharply. What free labour?

Know what I dreamt about today? Isabelle continued quietly. I dreamt Id hear, Meet my wife. She works at the bank. Shes clever and talented. But all I got was, So practical. So obliging. Perfect for the home.

Isabelle, come now I started.

What? That you didnt say a word! When mum gushed about me being convenient, you were silent! When Auntie Helen preached about wives rights, you were silent! When everyone dissected my private life, you were silent!

Her voice shook. The tears shed held back all evening finally came.

Im tired of being convenient!

She wiped her eyes.

Sorry to spoil the party. But Im done playing the ideal daughter-in-law.

She walked briskly to the door.

Isabelle, wait! I called. Where are you going?

Out on the balcony, for air, she replied plainly, not looking back. You all keep enjoying yourselves. Just without the service.

The door closed behind her. In the darkness outside, under the English sky, Isabelle could finally be herself.

She allowed herself to cry.

Isabelle sat on the balcony for over an hour. First sobbing from hurt, shame, and relief. Then drying her tears, staring at the city lights.

Inside drifted muffled voices. The guests had left; only mum and I remained.

I dont know what possessed her! mum fumed. To make a scene in front of everyone!

Mum, maybe shes not all wrong, I ventured regrettably.

Whats she right about?! Shouting at her elders? Ruining a party?

I listened quietly.

She worked all day.

So what! I did that in my day too! Never complained! Marriage is hard work, James. Women need to know their place.

Isabelle must have heard too. She smiled bitterly to herself. Even after everything, mum didnt get it.

Still.

No still about it! You speak to her properly. Sort her out. Shes gotten far too bold.

Isabelle opened the door and walked in. Mum and I stood surrounded by dirty plates in the lounge.

A proper talk is an excellent idea, Isabelle said calmly.

We both jumped in surprise.

Isabelle, mum started ingratiatingly, Dont take it so to heart. We didnt mean harm.

I know, Isabelle nodded. Youre just not used to me speaking.

Isabelle, can we talk at home? I pleaded.

No. What began here, ends here.

Isabelle sat down in one of the empty armchairs.

James, tomorrow Im going to stay at my parents for a week. I need time to think.

To think about what? I asked, worried.

Whether I want to stay in a family where Im not valued.

Isabelle, dont get dramatic.

Its not drama, she said, her voice steady. Its a choice. Either things change, or I change my life.

Mum snorted.

You young ones! Always ultimatums!

James, if you care about our marriage, think. Not about how to put me in my place but about why your wife cried on the balcony while your mum soaked up the congratulations.

A week later, I went to see Isabelle at her parents. I sat at their old wooden kitchen table, fiddling nervously with my ring.

Isabelle, come back, please. I promise, things will be different.

She studied me for a long time.

Alright. Lets try again.

She never cried at family gatherings again.

Because shed learned to claim her right to respect.

Reflecting on everything that happened, I realised I had failed to stand by my wife when it mattered. My silence allowed everyone to treat her like she was invisible. From now on, I vowed to speak up for her and for our marriage. After all, love is not just comfort, but respect.