“No, I didn’t want to bring it up, she was already upset.”
Susan said nothing. Of course he didn’t. He never would.
In the morning, she went for her ultrasound. She lay on the exam table, and the technician squeezed cold gel onto her stomach. She moved the transducer around. Susan stared at the screen but couldn’t understand anything. Just black and white spots and lines.
“There,” the technician pointed at the screen. “See this? That’s the gestational sac. And right here, this tiny little flicker—that’s the embryo. The heart is beating, can you hear it?”
Susan listened. A quiet, rapid beat. Thump-thump-thump-thump. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“That’s its heart?”
“Yes. Everything looks good, development is right on track for your dates. Congratulations, you have a healthy pregnancy.”
The technician printed out a picture and gave it to Susan. A small, black-and-white photo where you could barely see anything but a tiny speck. But it was her baby. Alive and real.
Susan got dressed and left the office, clutching the picture in her hand. She sat in her car and stared at it for a long time. Then she carefully tucked it into her purse. She would show Mike. She definitely would. But later. When she was ready. When she had saved enough money.
That evening at home, Susan took out the ultrasound picture and put it in the box on the top shelf of the closet. Next to the onesies and the money. Let it all be together. This was her secret, her protection.
For the next few days, Eleanor was quiet. She didn’t call, didn’t visit. But Susan knew it was a deceptive calm. Her mother-in-law hadn’t given up. She was just waiting. And sure enough, a week later, Mike came home from work looking worried.
“Mom called today. Asked if everything was okay with us. Said you’ve been acting strange. Pale, quiet. Asked if you were sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe you should really go to a doctor, get checked out.”
“I’ve been to a doctor, everything is fine.”
“Then why is Mom so worried?”
“I don’t know, ask her.”
Mike frowned but didn’t press the issue. Susan could see he was torn between them. His mother on one side, his wife on the other. And for now, his mother was winning. She always won.
That night, Susan had a dream. She was standing in an empty room, holding a baby. Suddenly, the door opened, and Eleanor walked in, holding out her arms. “Give me my grandchild, I’ll raise him myself.” Susan backed away, clutching the baby to her chest. Her mother-in-law followed, insistent. “Give him to me, I know what’s best.” Susan screamed “No!” but no sound came out. Only a hoarse whisper escaped her throat.
She woke up in a cold sweat. Mike was sleeping beside her, oblivious. Susan got up, went to the kitchen, and drank a glass of water. Her hands were shaking. It was just a dream, just her fears. But it had felt so real. She went back to bed but couldn’t fall asleep. She lay there, staring into the darkness, and thought. Something had to change. This couldn’t go on. She couldn’t let her mother-in-law control their lives, meddle in their affairs, demand reports. She had to set boundaries. Firm, clear boundaries. Otherwise, it would be even worse after the baby was born.
In the morning, after Mike left, Susan called a locksmith and scheduled an appointment to have the lock on their front door changed. The locksmith came at noon and installed a new one. Susan took two keys: one for herself, one for Mike. That was it. No one else had a key to their home anymore.
That evening, Mike noticed the new lock.
“What’s this for?”
“For security. The old lock wasn’t very good.”
“And the key? Mom’s won’t work anymore?”
Mike’s face darkened.
“So you did this on purpose, so she can’t get in?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want anyone going through our things when we’re not home.”
“She wasn’t going through our things!”
“She was, Mike. And you know it.”
“You just don’t want to admit it!”
Mike clenched his fists, turned, and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door. Susan stood in the hallway, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. But she had done the right thing. She had protected her home, her family, her child.
An hour later, Mike came back. He went into the living room, lay down on the sofa, and turned to face the wall. Susan didn’t follow him. She sat in the kitchen and made some tea. She drank it slowly, staring out the window. Her phone rang. Eleanor. Susan declined the call. She called again. Declined. Then a text came through: “Susan, why did you change the lock? I’m not your enemy. I was trying to help.” Susan deleted the message without replying. She blocked the number. Then she unblocked it—she was still her mother-in-law. She couldn’t ignore her completely. But she didn’t reply.
That night, Mike didn’t come to bed. He slept on the sofa. Susan lay in the empty bed, stroking her belly and whispering, “It’s going to be okay. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
The next day at work, Susan’s boss called her into her office.
“Listen, we’re giving out quarterly bonuses. You’ve got three hundred dollars coming to you. Do you want it on your card or in cash?”
“Cash, please.”
“Okay. You’ll get it in a couple of days.”
Susan left the office feeling relieved. Three hundred dollars. A great addition to her stash. That would bring the total in the box to $1,300. A little more, and she’d have enough for all the essentials.
That evening at home, Mike finally spoke to her.
“Mom is upset. She says you’re treating her like a stranger now.”
“I’m not treating her like a stranger. I just want her to respect our boundaries.”
“What boundaries? She’s my mother!”
“And does that give her the right to go through our things?”
“She wasn’t going through them.”
“She was, Mike. And you know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”
He fell silent. Turned away. Susan realized it was pointless. Useless. He would never take her side. Because to him, his mother was sacred. Infallible. And his wife was just… secondary.
Susan went into the bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed and pulled out her phone. She opened the photo of the ultrasound she had taken at the clinic. She looked at the little speck and thought: Soon. Soon everything will change. Soon Mike will know. And then, maybe, he’ll understand why she acted this way. Why she hid the money. Why she didn’t trust his mother. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Then she would have to decide what to do next. But that would be later. For now, she had to save. To hide. To protect. Because the baby was more important than anything. More important than her mother-in-law. More important than the arguments. More important, even, than her husband.
Susan lay down and placed a hand on her stomach. A warmth spread through her. Not physical. More of a feeling. A connection. Her and her baby. Against the world, if they had to be.
Tomorrow, she would get her bonus. She would hide it in the box. She would keep saving. And one day, when the time was right, she would show Mike the box. She would show him the money, the onesies, the ultrasound picture. And he would see that she had done it all not out of greed, not out of mistrust, but out of love for their future, for their child.
For now, there was silence. Waiting. Eleanor hadn’t called in three days. It was the calm before the storm. Susan felt it in her gut: her mother-in-law wasn’t the type to simply retreat and accept defeat. She was lying in wait. Planning her next move.
On Monday morning, as Susan was getting ready for work, the doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole: Eleanor. A bag in her hand, a friendly smile on her face, but her eyes were hard and calculating. Susan opened the door, leaving the chain on.
“Good morning, is something wrong?”
“Susan, dear, I was just passing by and thought I’d pop in. Can I come in? I baked some muffins, they’re still warm.”
“I’m getting ready for work, I’m running late.”
“Just for a minute, I haven’t seen you in so long.”
Susan hesitated. Not letting her in would cause a scene. Letting her in? The interrogation would begin. She unlatched the chain and stepped back.
Eleanor came in, took off her shoes, and walked into the kitchen as if she owned the place. She set her bag on the table and took out a container of muffins.
“Here, blueberry. I remember you like them. Sit down, let’s have some tea.”
“Eleanor, I’m really in a hurry.”
“Five minutes? Surely you can spare five minutes for your mother-in-law?”
Susan gritted her teeth and sat down. Her mother-in-law put the kettle on and got out mugs. She moved around the kitchen with confidence, as if it were her territory. Susan watched, feeling her irritation grow.
“Listen,” Eleanor sat down across from her, pushing the container of muffins closer. “I wanted to talk. Heart to heart, without Mike.”
“About what?”
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