“Enough!” William slammed his fist onto the table, making the half-empty teacups jump. “I can’t take this anymore! Live wherever you want, but not under my roof!”

Margaret flinched, her knitting slipping from her hands. The ball of wool rolled across the floor, unraveling a long pink thread.

“William, what are you saying?” whispered Alice, grabbing her husband’s sleeve. “Calm down!”

“I’m perfectly calm!” He yanked his arm free and turned to his mother-in-law. “Margaret, I’ll be blunt. You need to find somewhere else to live. You’ve got a week to pack.”

The elderly woman rose slowly from the sofa. Her legs trembled, but she held her spine straight.

“William, have I done something wrong? Have I offended you?” Her voice quivered.

“Wrong?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You act like you own the place! Dictating how we live, what we cook, how we raise the children!”

Alice stepped between them.

“William, stop it! Mum helps us with the kids, keeps the house—”

“Helps?” He scoffed. “She *commands*! Yesterday, she scolded me in front of the neighbours for coming home late. The day before, she had a go at me for hanging my shirt in the wrong cupboard!”

Margaret sank back onto the sofa. Her throat was dry, her heart racing. Had she really become such a burden?

“William, if I’ve said anything out of turn…”

“Out of turn?” he cut in. “You’re *always* out of turn! The soup’s too salty, the shirts aren’t pressed right, the kids are too loud! And whenever I want a moment alone with my wife, you’re there with your endless advice!”

Alice burst into tears.

“William, Mum helps! Without her, I couldn’t manage the kids and my job!”

“Exactly!” he raised his voice. “You’ve forgotten how to be a wife and mother! Your mum makes all the decisions—what to cook, what to wear, where to go! I feel like I’m married to *her*, not you!”

Margaret stifled a quiet sob. She’d moved in after her husband’s death, when little Emily was three and Oliver just one. Alice was stretched thin between work and home, William was always at the office. Who else could help them?

A cry echoed from the nursery. Emily had woken from the shouting.

“Granny!” called the small voice. “Granny, where are you?”

Margaret stood, but William blocked her way.

“Let her *mother* go. Enough spoiling them!”

“William!” Alice clutched his arm. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you treating Mum like this?”

“What’s gotten into *me*?” He threw up his hands. “I want a normal family! Where my wife cooks dinner, not my mother-in-law! Where the kids come to *me*, not just their gran! Where I can talk to my wife without a lecture on how to live right!”

Emily ran in, her pyjamas ruffled, tears streaking her face.

“Daddy, why are you shouting at Granny?” she asked, clinging to Margaret’s leg.

William hesitated, his expression softening slightly.

“I’m not shouting, love. Just talking loudly.”

“But Granny’s crying!”

Margaret quickly wiped her sleeve across her eyes.

“I’m not crying, sweetheart. Just tired. Off to bed now—it’s late.”

“I don’t want to! I want to sit with Granny in the kitchen!” Emily tightened her grip.

“Emily, to bed. Now!” William snapped.

The girl flinched and wailed louder.

“No! I want Granny!”

Alice scooped her up.

“Emily, listen to Daddy. We’ll play with Granny tomorrow.”

“Granny won’t leave?” she hiccuped.

A heavy silence fell. Alice glanced at William, but he turned away, staring out the window.

“Granny’s not going anywhere,” Alice said softly—though she didn’t sound sure.

Once the children were settled, the flat filled with thick tension again. Margaret sat on the sofa, mechanically rewinding the wool into a ball. Her hands shook, the thread snapping now and then.

Alice sat beside her.

“Mum, ignore him. He’s just stressed from work.”

“No, Alice,” Margaret murmured. “He’s right. I *do* overstep.”

“You don’t! You help us so much!”

“Help—or interfere?” Margaret gave a sad smile. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I take too much upon myself.”

William emerged from the bathroom in his dressing gown. Seeing his wife and mother-in-law huddled together, he scowled.

“Alice, we need to talk. Alone.”

“Not now, William. Everyone’s exhausted.”

“Now. Bedroom.”

Alice hesitated, then followed. Left alone, Margaret moved to the window. Outside, old Mrs. Wilkins from next door sat on a bench under the streetlamp, scrolling on her phone. Lucky her—living alone, bothering no one.

Had Margaret really become a nuisance? She racked her brain—had she nagged William about his socks left on the floor? The telly too loud when the kids were sleeping? Muddy boots on the clean hallway carpet?

But was that so wrong? She only wanted what was best for the family.

A shout from the bedroom:

“Don’t you *dare* speak about my mother like that!”

William’s muffled reply.

“No! She *stays*!”

Margaret shrank. Because of her, they were fighting. Because of her, the family was fracturing. Maybe she *should* leave.

But where? She’d sold her flat when she moved in. The money was long gone—spent on redecorating here. Her pension wouldn’t cover rent.

The bedroom door flew open. Alice emerged, eyes red.

“Mum, don’t listen to him. You’re not going anywhere!”

“But what if he’s right? What if I don’t belong here anymore?”

“Don’t be silly! You *do* so much! Who picks the kids up from nursery? Who cooks dinner while I’m at work? Who does the laundry and cleaning?”

“But William—”

“William can be grateful his wife *works* instead of sitting at home!” Alice snapped. “Without you, I’d still be on maternity leave, earning nothing!”

William stomped past, jaw clenched.

“I’ve said my piece,” he muttered, heading to the kitchen. “One week.”

“William, wait! Let’s just *talk*!”

“Nothing to discuss. It’s final.”

He gulped a glass of water, then turned.

“And if she doesn’t find a place?” Alice pressed.

“Not my problem. She can go to a care home.”

Margaret gasped. A *care home*—her worst fear.

“William!” Alice cried.

“What’s wrong with that? They’ll look after her, feed her, give her medicine.”

“But she’s my *mother*!”

William shrugged.

“Then find her a flat. Or leave with her.”

Alice paled.

“Is that a *threat*?”

“An ultimatum. Her or me. No third option.”

Margaret wept silently, tears dripping onto her lap.

“Mum, don’t cry,” Alice whispered, embracing her. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Figure fast,” William said, retreating to the bedroom.

Alice helped Margaret to bed, tucking her in.

“Don’t worry. He’ll calm down. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“But what if he’s right?” Margaret whispered. “A family is husband and wife. Children. I’m just… in the way.”

“Don’t say that!”

Alice kissed her forehead and left. Lying in the dark, Margaret replayed everything. Had she really been so overbearing?

The next morning, William left early without breakfast. Alice got the kids ready while Margaret packed their lunchboxes.

“Granny, why was Daddy cross yesterday?” Emily asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“He wasn’t cross, love. Just tired.”

“But are you really leaving?”

Margaret froze. So the girl *had* heard.

Alice crouched beside her.

“Granny’s not going anywhere. Daddy was upset, that’s all.”

“But if she does leave—?”

“She won’t. I promise.”

But Margaret saw the doubt in Alice’s eyes.

Left alone after Alice took the kids to nursery, Margaret sat at the kitchen table, stirring her tea. Maybe William *was* right. This wasn’t her home, her family. She was just a guest—even if kin.

She wandered through the flat. The living room, where she slept on the pull-out. Her few belongings tucked in a corner. The kitchen, where she spent her days cooking, cleaning, waiting for the children.

If she left, Alice would struggle. The kids would miss her. But peace would return.

A knock. Mrs. Wilkins stood there, holding an empty jar.

“Margaret, got any”Salt?” Margaret murmured, forcing a smile as she handed it over, knowing her time in this home was truly over, and tomorrow she would step into the unknown, alone but unburdening those she loved.