“Maybe now she’ll finally get it.”
“And besides, honey,” Linda’s voice turned smooth and coaxing, “if she’s home all the time, I can finally move back to my place without feeling awkward. Living here while she keeps dropping hints hasn’t exactly been comfortable.”
“She doesn’t drop hints, Mom. She says it outright,” Ethan said with a short laugh. “But don’t worry. Now she’s not going anywhere. No job, no money—she’ll be easy to handle.”
Marina felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands started to shake. She stepped back from the door carefully and sat down on the bed.
Seven years of marriage. Seven years of supporting this household, paying most of the bills, saving for vacations, buying groceries. Seven years of coming home from work and still making dinner, cleaning, doing laundry, because Ethan was “tired from work.”
Seven years of listening to Linda’s criticism and tolerating her presence in their home because “that’s my mom, how can I say no?” And there it was. The moment she supposedly lost her job, the masks came off overnight.
Her mother had been right. As usual. Marina went back to bed, forcing herself to breathe evenly.
Her hands trembled, not from fear but from anger she was barely containing. She took out her phone and opened her messages. She texted her mother: “You were right.
Thank you.” She remembered how, a year earlier, her mother had gently suggested that Ethan had gotten too comfortable and that Linda acted like she owned the place. Back then Marina brushed it off.
Family. You compromise. You make it work.
Now understanding had arrived. Bitter and clear. She heard footsteps in the hallway.
She quickly lay back down and closed her eyes. The bedroom door opened a crack and Ethan peeked in. “Marina, you asleep?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer, keeping her breathing steady. He stood there for a few seconds, then shut the door. Marina opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
A plan was already taking shape in her mind. By lunchtime she walked into the kitchen. Linda was bustling around the stove, humming to herself.
Her mother-in-law was clearly in a very good mood. “Oh, Marina, finally up?” she said, turning with a bright smile that now looked fake.
“I made soup. Sit down and eat. You’ll need your strength.
Big house, lots to do.” Marina poured herself a cup of coffee without a word. Linda kept chirping away.
“You know, I was thinking. Since you’re home now, maybe we should start some updates around here. The kitchen’s looking dated.
And the wallpaper in the living room could use replacing. I have a friend who does interiors. Not too expensive.”
“With what money?” Marina asked, looking at her over the rim of her cup. “I’m unemployed, remember?”
“Well, Ethan will earn it,” Linda said with a wave of her hand. “He’s the man of the house. He should be the provider. You’ve spoiled him by doing everything yourself.
Now let’s see what he can do.” Marina almost laughed.
Ethan lived on his paycheck, which went to gas, the gym, gadgets, and nights out with friends. While she paid the mortgage, utilities, groceries, and everything else. “Linda,” she said, setting down her cup.
“Have you considered moving back out? Since we’re in financial trouble now.” Her mother-in-law froze.
The ladle hung in the air. “What do you mean, move out? I help you.”
“You’ve been living here rent-free for six months in exchange for that help,” Marina said with a small smile. “Utilities, food, internet—I paid for all of it.
Now that money’s tight, cutting expenses seems logical, doesn’t it?” Linda’s face fell. “I… I help my son.
What expenses?” “Then let your son support you,” Marina said with a shrug. “On his paycheck.”
She stood up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Linda staring after her with her mouth open. In the hallway Marina leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Her heart was racing.
She had never spoken to Linda that way before. She had always been polite, patient, accommodating. Enough being convenient, she thought.
That evening Ethan came home in a black mood. He didn’t even say hello, just walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch, staring at his phone. Linda rushed right over to him.
“Ethan, can you believe what your wife said to me today? She told me I should move out. She’s throwing your own mother out!” Ethan looked up at Marina, who was standing in the doorway.
“Is that true?” “I simply suggested we cut expenses,” Marina said calmly. “If I’m out of work, we need to save somewhere.”
“So now you’re saving money on my mother?” he snapped, jumping up. “She helps us.” “Helps?” Marina folded her arms.
“How exactly? By cooking food I buy? Cleaning a condo I pay the mortgage on?”
“You’ve got some nerve,” Ethan shot back. “My mother came here to help us.” “My home,” Marina said quietly but clearly.
“The condo is in my name. I bought it before we got married. Did you forget that?”
A heavy silence fell. Ethan went pale. Linda put a hand to her chest.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Now you’re throwing it in my face that the condo is yours?”
“I’m just reminding you of the facts,” Marina said with a shrug. “You wanted your mother to live with us. Fine. But on your dime.
Rent a place on your salary. Live together.” Ethan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
His paycheck barely covered his own personal spending, let alone rent. “So now you’re blackmailing me?”
