It’s All Your Fault! With Lips Tightly Pressed, Her Mother-in-Law Watched as Lena Did the Dishes, Wh…

Its your fault! With pursed lips, Barbara stared at Alice, who was washing the dishes. In the next room, three-year-old Emily was coughing uncontrollably.
If youd just paid attention to the child, if youd noticed her cough in time, instead of treating her with nonsense
I gave her what the GP prescribed, Alice tried to explain, keeping her voice calm.
What she needs is antibiotics! Now youll be giving her injections, since you cant be bothered. Honestly, I dont know what sort of generation you are. You never think, you cant do anything properly, you dont even care about your own children! When your husband was young, I
Alice turned off the tap and left the kitchen quickly, her eyes stinging with tears. For the past five years, it seemed, she had been to blame for everything. Always the fool, always making mistakes. Her biggest blunder was believing Mark and agreeing to move in with his parents just until we get our own place.

The future home was really just a muddy pit dug out on rented land. No progress had been made. Mark said it was Alices faultfor having two children close together and without his full consent, as he liked to remind her.

Any talk of renting a flat was shut down instantly:
I wont pay strangers good money for nothing, Mark would grumble.
Alice sighed, trying to suggest another solution:
Why not use the child benefit and government scheme to buy a small house? Theres the national and local grant
What sort of house can you get for that? Youll only end up with a dump. That money should go straight into building. Once summer comes, well get started
Summer came. The construction site remained untouched, and Alice wouldnt hand over her savings. Life ticked on

Mark, would you mind watching Emily while I pick up Jack from nursery? she asked as he trudged in, pulling off his muddy boots.
What if her temperature spikes?
Itll only be half an hour, surely…
No, dont even ask. What if something happens
Mark refused to budge. Silently, Alice dressed her daughter. The nursery was a short walk away, just under a mileEmily would get some fresh air.

I told you there was no point sending Jack in today. He couldve stayed at home. You just want to get rid of your own children, Mark called after her.
Yes, always my fault, Alice muttered wryly.

That evening, Alice sat at her laptop while the kids played quietly nearby.
Working again? Mark hovered over her shoulder. Whens dinner?
Alice closed her laptop.
Youve been looking at flats again, havent you? Marks voice was sharp.
Well finish the house soon enough, all that looking is pointless.
Alice nodded.
Mummy, my tower wont build! And And its your fault! Emily burst into tears from the doorway.
Well, your mums no help at all, is she? Lazy, Mark added, grinning smugly.
Alice looked at them, realising shed had enough. Even her daughter now blamed her for everything.

The next morning, Alice didnt take Jack to nursery.
Barbara pursed her lips as she watched Alice get the children ready after breakfast, but she didnt ask any questions.
Were off to the surgery, Alice said, used to explaining herself.
They came back late, claiming theyd seen the ENT consultant. The children giggled and whispered excitedly, but Alice hushed them.
Daddy, guess where we were today? Emily rushed up eagerly.
Where?
Not telling, she said, wilting under Alices stern glance.
She wont say, Jack chimed in wisely. Its a surprise, for your birthday.

The next day, Alice vanished with the children.
No one noticed until Mark came home that evening.
Mum, whats for dinner?
Ask your Alice. She went out with the kids early this morning, havent seen her since. Ill fry some eggs since your wife cant be bothered.
Maybe theyre at the surgery Mark said, scratching his head as he walked through to the living room. It was tidy as alwaysAlice was a good homemakerbut something was missing. Then he realised: Emilys huge stuffed cat was gone. She never took it out, certainly not to the surgery.
Marks heart thudded as he hunted around the room, even opening the wardrobe. Only Alices winter coat, sadly swinging on a hanger, remainedall her other things had vanished. So had the childrens clothes and toys.

Mum! Alices gone! he blurted, hardly believing his eyes.
Where would she go? Dont be daft, Barbara said, flipping eggs in the pan.
Shes taken her things, look! The wardrobes empty.
And the children? Ring her, quickly! Now even Barbara looked panicked, staring at the stripped wardrobe and muttering about Alices foolishness and how no sensible woman would ever leave a decent manso Alice must have lost her mind, left with nothing to do.
Mark kept ringing, but Alices mobile was switched off.

Mum, how didnt you notice her taking things? Its not as if you can clear out with just one bag!
I popped to the shops Shes gone mad, absolutely mad. We need to find her and get the children back.
And then what? Are you going to look after them?
Of course not. Theres nursery.
And evenings? Weekends? If they get ill?
Hire a nanny.
Do you have any idea how much that costs?
Well, then a childrens home. Just for now.
Mark buried his face in his hands.

The eggs burned. Outside, the sky turned gloomy. Mother and son sat in the dark kitchen, wondering what to do next.
What more did she want? Mark moaned. Just leaves like that, not a word. Maybe shes met someone else?
Whod want her?
Hows she going to live? She doesnt even have a job.
I told you that money should have gone into the build. Now its gone along with Alice. Shell waste it on a hovel and sit there.
Shell be back, once shes had enough of living on toastshell be back, youll see, Mark said, not sounding convinced.
And youll just let her? You need to show her whos boss. If she crawls back, you send her awaymake her beg forgiveness, let her humiliate herself. And take the kids from her, definitely. She needs to know shes nothing and no-one. Honestly, trying to wriggle out like that
Barbara droned on. Mark went to bed hungry. He was sure Alice would return, ask his forgiveness, and all would go back to normal. He wasnt about to waste time searching for a runaway wife.

Instead, a letter arrived. Signed for. Notice that Alice Smith was filing for divorce.

Mum, this says I have to go to court, Mark told his mother.
Dont go. You cant get divorced without your permission. Has it even occurred to you to look for her?
No.
Well, start looking. Youll need to persuade her to come back. Imagine what the neighbours will say! I told everyone Alice and the kids were off at a holiday camp. If this comes out, well be a laughing stock.
Shell be back herself
Mark, if shes put in the application, she wont. You need to look. Take flowers, apologise
Apologise for what? Mark snapped.
I dont know, sort it out as you go.

By chance, Mark spotted Alice while heading to the supermarket after work, clutching the shopping list his mum had given him.
It was nearly six. Alice, carrying nothing to hide, was walking through the centre of town with the children. Mark held himself back, resisting the urge to shout. Quietly, he followed at a distance.

Alice strolled, taking her time as the children drank apple juice and giggled. She looked carefree, happier than hed seen her in yearsnot at all desperate to crawl home.
Shell have me paying maintenance for both of them after the divorce, Mark felt a chill.

He caught up with them by the entrance to a block of flats, sprinting so as not to lose them.
Jack, Emily, how are you? Missed your dad?
The childrens reaction stungthey huddled behind their mother. Jack whispered:
Mum, were not going back to Grandma’s, are we?
No, of course not, love
Youve turned my own son against me now? Mark shouted, Running off without warning! Whats your problem? Got it easy, housework done, kids sortedyoure living the life! Now youre divorcing me. What, already found some bloke to sponge off? You think you can skip from one back to another, just lazing about? Youre ungrateful. Ill take the kids, do you hear?
Alice calmly smiled:
Wait there, Ill fetch their things.
W-why?
You wouldnt want to take them without their things, would you? Emily cant sleep without her cat, you know that.
Are you Are you winding me up? You
Alice stepped back from her furious husband, neighbours beginning to look.
Come on then, where is it youre living now? Mark gestured to the flats. Alice shook her head.
Off you go, Mark. Ill see you in court.

Youll get nothing, you hear? Not the flat, not the holiday home, and the house is being built with my money. Youve got no claim!
Alice watched him rage, no longer recognising the man shed shared five years with. Shed waited, hoping hed change…

Want me to call the police? offered Alices new neighbour, a kindly woman in her forties.
At the word police, Mark quickly quietened.
Fine, live however you want. Its your fault, always has been!
But Alice just laughedrelief, freedom. She hugged her children and they walked up the stairs. The rented flat wasnt much, but for the first time in five years, Alice felt like she owned her life. She chose their meals, their schedule, their rules. And Mark neednt worryshe had a job. Alice had freelanced for years, building websites at night while the children slept, slowly building her experience, knowing her patience wouldnt last forever

Thered be a divorce. Mark, following Barbaras advice, would never appear in court. Proceedings would drag on, but a few months later, a letter would arrive: the divorce was finalised without him.

He wouldnt come to Jacks birthday, claiming he was paying child support anyway.

A few months on, Alice would finally buy a tiny two-bedroom flat on the edge of town and move in with the children.

From mutual friends, shed hear that Mark was trying to find someone else, but every potential partner soon fled.

And only in her nightmares would Alice still hear her ex-husbands jeering voice: its all your faultOne ordinary spring evening, Alice sat on the narrow balcony of her new home, feet tucked beneath her, listening to distant laughter from the playground below. The children sprawled on the living room rug, painting each others hands with blue and yellow streaks. Their giggles, their sticky fingers, their easy peaceeverything felt astonishingly simple.

As the sun dipped golden behind the supermarket sign, someone knocked at her door. Alice tensed, but it was only her neighbour returning a borrowed saucepan.

Settling in? the neighbour asked, smiling gently.

Alice nodded, truly meaning it. Her home was smaller but held so many bright cornersplants in coffee tins, books stacked like old friends, Jacks careful drawings taped above the radiator. Theyd had sleepless nights, days when Emily missed her grandmas garden, mornings full of doubts and low-voiced phone calls with her solicitor. But now, each day built on the last, stone by stone.

The letterbox rattled. Another brown envelopethis time official looking. Alice opened it, heart skipping for a moment. But it was from the council: Congratulations, your application is approved; you and your children are awarded a place in the primary school nearby, with breakfast club provided. Relief warmed her like sunlight.

Later, after baths and tooth-brushing and storytimeEmily fell asleep clutching the big stuffed catAlice watched Jack as he crawled onto the sofa beside her. He put his head on her shoulder, quiet for a moment.

Mummy, are we going to stay here forever?

Alice stroked his hair and looked around. The flat wasnt perfect; the wallpaper curled at the windows, and the radiators clanked in the night. But it was theirs.

Yes, honey. As long as we want to.

Jack smiled, eyes closing. Alice pressed a gentle kiss to his head, letting her gratitude settle, heavy and real. Shed stopped waiting for someone to save her, stopped hoping for permissionnow, each choice was hers. On the table, her laptop blinkedan email from a new client, another small contract.

Everythings okay now, Mum? Jack murmured sleepily.

Everythings more than okay, love. Were home.

Outside, the lights in the high street blinked on, one by one, as if marking a path into the unknown. And as night fellpeaceful, quiet, full of promiseAlice felt only this: the sheer, buoyant joy of freedom, and the endless, undeniable possibility of beginning again.