Her husband stepped out of the room.
“Aren’t you going to open it? Maybe talk to her…”
“No.”
“Emily…”
“No. If you want to, you open it.”
He did not move. Outside, his mother kept hammering on the door.
“I’ll call the police!” she shouted. “They’ll teach you how to speak to people!”
Emily took out her phone and dialed.
“Hello. I’d like to report a disturbance. The address is… A woman is beating on my door, threatening me, and refusing to leave.”
The dispatcher confirmed the address and said a patrol car would be sent. Emily ended the call.
Beyond the door, her mother-in-law suddenly went quiet. She must have heard. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, almost pleading.
“Son, come out. Let’s talk. I’m your mother.”
Her husband looked at Emily. Emily gave a small nod. He took his keys, went to the door, and unlocked it.
His mother pushed into the entryway and swept Emily with a hard look from head to toe.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “How dare you refuse to let me into the house?”
“This is my home,” Emily said. “And I decide who comes inside.”
“Yours?” Her mother-in-law gave a scornful snort. “My son lives here. That means I have rights here too.”
“No. You don’t have any rights here.”
“Son, do you hear the way she’s talking? Tell her!”
He said nothing.
“Tell her!” his mother repeated, grabbing his arm.
“Mom, the apartment is in her name. Legally. I have no claim to it.”
“What do you mean, no claim? You’re her husband!”
“An inheritance isn’t marital property. Not even during a marriage.”
His mother took a step back, as if the words had struck her.
“So now you’re on her side?”
“I’m explaining the law.”
“The law!” she said, waving her hand. “And what about conscience?”
“My conscience is right here,” Emily cut in. “And it tells me I’m not obligated to live with three people in a two-room apartment.”
“Three people? I wasn’t planning to stay forever!”
“You brought suitcases. That suggests you were planning to stay for quite a while.”
Her mother-in-law glanced at the luggage standing by the threshold.
“I… I only meant to visit. Until New Year’s.”
“Until New Year’s, then until spring, then until summer. I know how these things go.”
“You ungrateful woman!” Her mother-in-law’s hands clenched into fists. “My son gave you this apartment!”
“Your son got a place to live because of me. Not the other way around.”
“How dare you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
The woman turned to her son.
“And you’re going to stand there and let her humiliate me like this?”
He let out a tired breath.
“Mom, go home. Please.”
“What?” she cried. “You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m asking you to leave. This isn’t going to work, all of us living here together.”
“So your wife matters more to you than your mother?”
He did not answer. For a moment, she stared at him. Then, abruptly, she snatched up her suitcases.
“Fine. I’ll remember this. And when you need help, don’t come to me! I will never set foot in this place again!”
“Your things are in the storage closet,” Emily said. “Take them with you.”
Her mother-in-law went to the closet and dragged out the bags. Her son helped carry them to the doorway. She put on her coat without looking at Emily.
“Son, you can come to me anytime. You know where to find me.”
“I know, Mom.”
She left. The door closed behind her. Emily turned the lock and slid the chain into place.
Her husband remained in the entryway, staring down at the floor.
“Are you happy with how that turned out?” he asked.
“No,” Emily said. “But there was no other choice.”
“We could have talked it through.”
“We tried. It didn’t work.”
He went back into the room. Emily stayed where she was for a moment, then returned to the kitchen and made tea. She sat by the window. The snow had stopped. The sky had cleared, and stars had appeared above the dark rooftops.
Her phone rang. Her mother-in-law. Emily declined the call. Then it rang again. And again. Emily blocked the number.
That evening, her husband came into the kitchen.
“Mom called me,” he said. “She was crying.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Maybe we should have handled it differently…”
“How?” Emily asked. “By asking? I asked. By explaining? I explained. Your mother refused to hear me.”
He poured himself a glass of water and drank it.
“So what happens now?”
“We keep living. Like before. The two of us.”
“And if Mom gets sick? If she needs help?”
“We’ll help her. Just not here.”
He nodded and returned to the room.
Emily remained in the kitchen until late into the night, thinking over everything that had happened. Did she regret it? No. Had she done the right thing? Yes.
The apartment felt like her home again. No strangers’ belongings in the hallway. No unwanted advice in the kitchen. No outside demands pressing into her life.
A week later, her mother-in-law called her son. She said her anger had passed. She was willing to forgive them. She wanted to come over for the holidays.
Her husband told Emily about the conversation. Emily’s answer was brief.
“As a guest, fine. For a few hours. But she is not sleeping here.”
Her mother-in-law did not come.
Emily and her husband celebrated New Year’s alone together. They set the table, turned on the television, and wished each other a happy holiday. He was quiet, but he was no longer angry. He had accepted it.
And Emily, at last, felt that the home truly belonged to her. No one would tell her anymore how “lucky” her husband had been. No one would decide where the flowers should stand or what dinner ought to be.
Peace and quiet returned to her grandfather’s apartment.
Exactly the way it should have been from the beginning.