Leftover Love: A Tale of a Mother-in-Law, a Sister-in-Law, and the Battle for One’s Own Space

Another envelope for them, and we get only a jar of pickles? I mutter, eyeing the kitchen table at my motherinlaws house. Peter sits opposite me, and across from us is his mum, Helen. Shes just come back from the spare room where she slipped another cashfilled envelope into the hands of my sisterinlaw, Emily. I saw it through the cracked door. Emilys grin is as wide as the Thames, and her husband, Tom, cant hide the glee in his eyes.

Emma, would you like a bit more salad? Helen asks, setting a bowl in front of me. I made it myself, just for you two.

My throat tightens. For you. For them theres always food, money for holidays, a new car, a house makeover. For us its pickles and a takeaway cake. Am I being ungrateful? Maybe I should be grateful for what I have.

Peter squeezes my hand under the table. I know the signal Dont start something at the table. But I cant stay quiet any longer.

Mum, did Emily get another special treat? I ask, low but firm.

The kitchen falls silent, save for the tick of the wall clock and Toms fork clinking against his plate.

Emma, dont overdo it, Helen says evenly. Everyone gets what they need.

So we dont need anything? Peter tries to interject, but Helen shoots him a withering glance.

Youve got everything. You both work, you live in the flat I inherited from my parents. Emilys got it tougher.

Emily drops her gaze, though a faint flicker of triumph passes over her face. Tom doesnt even pretend to be embarrassed.

I drift out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air, recalling the first few years of our marriage. Id tried so hard to be the perfect daughterinlawbaking cakes for holidays, helping in the garden, ringing on namedays with a cheerful Happy birthday! I was always hearing, Emily does it better, Emily has it harder, Emilys so resourceful.

I remember Christmas Eve three years ago. We were all gathered around the table when Helen handed Emily and Tom an envelope stamped For a fresh start. We got a jar of homemade pork lard and a slice of fruit cake. Peter tried to joke, Mum, no fresh start for us? Helen just smiled and said, Youve already got off to a flying start.

Thats when I first felt like the spare part of the family.

Emma! Peter calls from the balcony, trailing after me. Please, dont make a scene.

Its not a scene! I snap, teeth clenched. Its my life! How long am I supposed to pretend everythings fine?

Peter sighs heavily.

I know its unfair. But what can we do? Shes my mother.

And Im your wife! Tears well up. Have you ever taken my side?

Peter remains silent. I know he loves his mum and doesnt want to hurt her, but I cant keep up the act.

We head back inside. Emily and Tom are just about to leave.

Thanks for everything, Mum! Emily kisses Helen on the cheek.

See you later! Tom calls over his shoulder, looking at me with a smug air.

Were left alone with Helen.

Emma, I dont understand why youre acting like this, Helen says in that teacherlike tone. Youve always been so grateful for everything.

Maybe Im not grateful for the leftovers any more, I reply quietly.

Helen furrows her brow.

I dont get this bitterness.

Its not bitterness, I say firmly. Its hurt. I want to feel like I belong, not like Im the afterthought.

Helen looks at me a long, icy moment.

Perhaps you should work on yourself, Emma.

Peter and I leave without a word. The car ride home is dead quiet.

At home I collapse on the sofa and cry. Peter tries to hug me, but I push him away.

You never see my side, I sob. You always pick their side.

Thats not true! I just dont want family wars.

And Im done fighting inside myself!

The next day my mother calls.

Emma, how was it at Helens?

I have no answer. Im embarrassed to admit my feelings. After all, Im supposed to be grateful for what I have. But do I really have to settle for being the lesser one?

A week later Emily posts pictures of her new flat on Facebook: Thank you, Mum, for the support! Below are dozens of comments: Lucky to have such a motherinlaw! Family is everything!

A pang of envy and sadness hits me. That evening I try to bring it up with Peter.

Maybe we should see each other less? I ask tentatively.

Peter looks down, sorrowful.

Its my mum I cant just cut her off.

And I?

He stays silent for a long moment.

I dont want to choose between you and my mother

I feel lonelier than ever.

Weeks pass. Every visit to Helens feels like a fresh dose of humiliation. I start dodging family gatherings, citing work or a bad head. Peter keeps going to his mums more often. Our conversations become short and surfacelevel.

One afternoon I get a message from Emily:

Emma, fancy a coffee? Id like to talk without an audience.

Reluctantly I agree. We meet at a little café on the high street.

I know youre angry with me, Emily begins bluntly. But its not my fault mum plays favourites.

I study her face.

You never tried to change it?

Emily shrugs.

Its kind of convenient but Im fed up too. Mum turns us against each other. Youre the strong, independent one, Im the poor victim. In truth were both miserable.

Her honesty catches me off guard.

Do you think it can change?

Emily shakes her head.

Mum wont change. But we can stop playing her game.

I walk home feeling a flicker of hope. That night I sit down with Peter for the first truly honest talk weve had.

Either you stand with me and we set boundaries with your mum, or we keep living under the same roof but on separate tracks, I say.

Peter is quiet for a while, then pulls me into a tight embrace.

Im sorry for everything. Lets try to change it together.

I dont know what the future holds, but one things clear: Ill never again let anyone convince me that Im only worth the leftovers of someone elses love.

Do we really have to choose between family loyalty and our own happiness? Or can we carve out a path that restores our dignity? What would you do in my shoes?