**Diary Entry**
*14th March, Manchester*
“Your mother doesnt live here anymore,” my husband said as he met me at the door, my suitcase still in hand.
Emily froze on the threshold, fingers tightening around the handle. A cold draft swept through the hallthe front door was wide open, and the light was on in the room where her mum usually slept.
“What do you mean, she doesnt live here?” Her voice wavered. “I was only gone three days for work. Where could she have gone?”
Mark shrugged and stepped aside to let her in. He was unnervingly calm, almost indifferent.
“I took her to Aunt Margarets. She agreed to take her in for now.”
“For now?” Emily kicked off her heels. “What does that even mean? And why did you decide this without me?”
“Because I cant do it anymore.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I just cant. Three years, Em. Three years of this, and Ive had enough.”
She walked into the kitchen, dropping her bag onto the table. Her hands shookfrom exhaustion, shock, the anger bubbling inside. She opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, took a long sip.
“So, let me get this straight,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. “You kicked my mum out while I was away?”
“I didnt kick her out. I moved her. With respect, with all her things.” He leaned against the doorframe. “And you know this was the right call. Shes your mum, but our marriage comes first.”
Emily shook her head. It was staggering how quickly someone could upend everything. That morning, shed left Manchester certain that home would be exactly as she left it. Now, it was a different world entirely.
“I need to talk to Mum,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“Its too late,” Mark said. “Nearly midnight. Call her tomorrow.”
“Im going to Aunt Margarets.”
“Youre not.” His voice was firm. “Youve just got off a train. Youre exhausted. Well talk in the morning.”
She dialled her mothers number, but the phone was switched off. She tried Aunt Margaretno answer. Mark just watched in silence.
“What did you say to her?” Emily tossed her phone onto the table.
“The truth. That we cant live like this anymore. That our marriage is falling apart. That it had to be one of usher or me.”
“You gave her an ultimatum?”
“Shouldnt I?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Em, weve talked about this a hundred times. I cant keep doing this. I want us to be a family againjust you and me. No more arguments, no more walking on eggshells.”
Emily sank into a chair, covering her face. Yes, theyd talked about it. But she never thought hed actually go through with it. Shed assumed, somehow, things would just work themselves out.
“How did she take it?” she asked, not looking up.
“Like a soldier. Said she saw it coming. Packed in an hour. Didnt even cry.”
Emily gave a bitter smile. That sounded like Mumproud, unyielding. Shed never make a scene, even if her heart was breaking.
“I need to see her.”
“Tomorrow,” Mark repeated. “Right nowshower, then bed. Youre dead on your feet.”
She obeyed. Under the hot water, she tried to make sense of it. Mum had lived with them since her stroke. The doctors had said she needed constant care. Leaving her alone wasnt an option, so Emily had brought her home without a second thought.
Mark hadnt objected at first. Family was family. But months passed, and Mums recovery was slow. She grew sharp, critical. Silent for hours, then lashing out. Especially at Mark.
“Not a proper man,” shed mutter when he left for work. “Cant even fix a leaky tap, cant earn a decent wage. Youll regret sticking with him.”
Emily defended himof course she did. Explained that Mark was a software engineer, that brains mattered more than brawn these days. That they had a house, a car, holidays.
“Your granddad wouldve never stood for this,” her mother would snap. “A real man takes care of his own.”
Mark bit his tongue, but the tension grew. He stayed late at work, skipped dinners. If he was home, hed shut himself in the bedroomto work, or just hide.
They barely spoke anymore, not like they used to. Just logisticsgroceries, dry cleaning. Their marriage, once warm and close, had become little more than cohabitation.
And nowthis. Mark had made the choice for her. Mum was gone. No discussion, no warning.
She slipped into bed. Mark was already there, pretending to read.
“I get why you did it,” she said. “But you shouldnt have gone behind my back.”
“I waited three years for you to decide,” he said, tossing the book aside. “Three years of suggesting alternativesa carer, a care home. We can afford it. But you wouldnt listen.”
“Shes my *mum*,” Emily shot back. “She raised me alone after Dad left. Worked two jobs so I could have piano lessons, go to a good school. I cant just hand her off to strangers!”
“And what am I?” Mark asked quietly. “Am I a stranger too?”
She didnt answer. The room was silent except for the ticking clock. Mark switched off the lamp, turned away. Emily stared at the ceiling, her pulse racing.
Morning came with a call from Aunt Margaret. Mum was fine, settling inno need to rush over.
“Dont come today,” she said. “She needs time to adjust.”
Emily didnt believe it. Mum always wanted to see herevery day, every hour. Even a trip to Tesco would earn a call: “Where are you? When will you be back?”
“Im coming anyway,” Emily said and hung up.
Mark sipped his coffee, pretending not to eavesdrop. The kitchen was strangely quietno clattering dishes, no comments about weak tea or dirty floors.
“I took the day off,” he said, standing. “We need to talk. Properly.”
She nodded. They did.
“Ill see Mum first,” she said. “Then well talk.”
Aunt Margaret lived across town in an old walk-up flat. As Emily climbed the stairs, she wondered how Mum would manage four flights with her bad hip.
The door opened to reveal Aunt Margareta round woman with dyed-red hair. A distant cousin Mum barely spoke to.
“Come in,” she said. “Your mothers in the kitchen.”
The flat was cramped, the kitchen barely fitting two. Mum sat stiff-backed by the window. She didnt turn when Emily entered.
“Mum.”
“You came,” she said coolly. “I thought your husband might forbid it.”
“Dont be ridiculous.” Emily sat opposite her. “Of course I came.”
“And whats happened?” Mum finally met her eyes. “Nothing, really. Your husbands shown whos in charge. I always said he was weak. Turns outhes a tyrant.”
Emily sighed. Black or whiteno in-between.
“Hes not a tyrant. Weve all been struggling.”
“Struggling?” Mum scoffed. “And Ive been living in luxury, have I? Sick, dependent, hearing how much of a burden I am? Dont think I didnt notice how he looked at me.”
“Mum”
“You chose him.” Her voice was steel. “Live with him. Ill manage.”
Aunt Margaret tactfully left. Emily studied her mothergrey-haired but still proud. Unbent, even now.
“I can rent you a flat near us,” she offered. “Get you a carer. Whatever you need.”
“No.” Mum set her jaw. “Ill stay here. When Im better, Ill go home.”
“But the doctors”
“Doctors dont know everything.” She lifted her chin. “Ill take care of myself.”
Her tone was firm, but Emily saw the tremor in her hands. Mum was terrifiedtruly alone for the first time in years.
“Ill come every day.”
“Dont.” Mums voice softened slightly. “Youve a life. Come on weekends.”
Emily knew that tone. Once Mum made up her mind, there was no changing it.
Before leaving, Mum grabbed her wrist.
“I only ever wanted you happy,” she murmured. “Maybe your Marks right. Maybe youll be better without me.”
Emily hugged her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and talcum powderhome, safety.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Ill always be here.”
Mum pulled back, her mask slipping back into place.
“Go on,” she said. “Dont keep him waiting.”
Outside, Emily stood in the cold, lungs burning. The guilt was crushing. Logically, she knew Mark was right. But her heart ached thinking of Mum feeling discarded.
At home, Mark had lunch readyher favourite pasta bake. They sat across from each other, like old times.
“How is she?”
“Stoic,” Emily said. “Pretending its fine.”
Mark nodded. He knew his mother-in-lawiron-willed to the end.
“Em, I know youre angry,” he said. “But there was no other way. We were destroying each other. Your mums miserable with me. Im miserable with her. Youre torn in two.”
She stayed silent. He wasnt wrong.
“Heres my offer,” he continued. “We get her a proper flatsomewhere nice, with a lift. Hire a carer for meals and cleaning. A panic button if she needs help. You visit whenever you want. But she lives separately.”
“And if she gets worse?”
“Then we reassess. Maybe a care home with proper medical staff. But only as a last resort.”
Emily studied himtired but resolute. Hed put up with three years of disdain for her sake.
“I agree,” she said softly. “But no more decisions behind my back.”
Mark smiledthe first real one in ages.
“Promise.”
They ate in silence, but it was comfortable now. Something had clicked back into place.
Later, Emily called Mum with the plan. To her surprise, Mum agreed almost immediatelyon one condition.
“I pick the flat. And the carer. No strangers.”
“Of course, Mum.”
That evening, they curled up on the sofa with an old film they used to love. Marks arm around her, her head on his chestsimple, familiar, long forgotten.
“I thought Id lose you,” he admitted. “That youd choose her over me.”
Emily lifted her head.
“And I was terrified Id come home one day to find you gone.”
“Never,” he whispered, pulling her close.
Later, as she drifted off, Emily remembered Marks words from the night before: *Your mother doesnt live here anymore.* At the time, theyd sounded like an ending.
Now, she wondered if they were a beginning. A chance for all of themto love without smothering, to care without controlling.
For the first time in years, she dreamed of nothing at all. Just the sea, the sand, and a sun risingnot settingover the horizon.
