It was Daniel’s mother, Margaret. Emily had honestly been hoping she would take her side; Margaret had always seemed levelheaded, fair, the kind of woman who could look at a situation without getting swept up in emotion. But the moment she stepped inside, it became clear she had already chosen where her loyalty lay.
“Emily, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” she began before even taking off her coat. “Linda called me in tears! She said you’re trying to throw them out into the street!”
“Aunt Margaret, they’ve been here for two and a half weeks,” Emily tried to explain, helping her mother-in-law with her coat despite the tightness in her chest. “You understand, this was only supposed to be for a few days…”
“So what?” Margaret cut her off, casting a disapproving look around the entryway. “They are family. When you married Daniel, you knew perfectly well that he came from a large family. And now you want to turn your back on his relatives?”
“I’m not turning my back on anyone,” Emily said, struggling to keep her voice even as she led Margaret toward the kitchen. “I just want to live peacefully in my own apartment. I want to come home after work and rest like a normal person…”
“Normal is when family comes first,” Margaret snapped. “Not these selfish personal wishes of yours. Daniel! Son, come here!”
Daniel appeared in the doorway, his expression already wary, as if he had been expecting this exact conversation and had decided in advance to survive it by saying as little as possible.
“Listen to me carefully,” his mother said, fixing him with a stern gaze. “Maybe you should have chosen a different wife. Someone more obedient. Someone who understands the importance of family.”
“Mom, why would you say that…” Daniel started, but she didn’t let him finish.
“What’s wrong with saying it? Look at Katie, for instance. She cooks wonderfully, she helps around the house, she’s sweet-natured, respectful…”
At that very moment, Katie herself came drifting out of the bedroom in Emily’s silk robe—the expensive one Daniel had given Emily for her last birthday.
“Oh, Aunt Margaret!” Katie cried happily, hurrying over to kiss the older woman on both cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ll make tea right away. Aunt Emily, do we have any cookies? Oh, wait, no—we finished the last ones yesterday while watching that show.”
Emily stood there in silence, watching the scene unfold, and understood with painful clarity that there would be no rescue from that side either.
“Do you see?” Margaret announced triumphantly. “That is what a real woman looks like. Hospitable. Caring.”
“Oh, Aunt Margaret,” Katie laughed, pretending to be embarrassed as she busied herself near the kettle. “I’m not the lady of the house here, I’m only helping Aunt Emily. Though, if this were my apartment, I’d change quite a few things. The curtains, for one—they’re much too gloomy. And the wall color…”
“This is my apartment,” Emily said quietly, but every word was firm.
“For now,” Margaret replied, with heavy emphasis.
On the twentieth day of their “temporary” stay, Emily came home earlier than usual. A plumbing issue at work had forced the office to close, and by the time she reached the second floor, she could already hear pounding music and bursts of laughter coming from behind her own front door.
When she unlocked it and stepped inside, she froze.
The living room looked as if a storm had torn through it. Empty wine and beer bottles were scattered everywhere. A huge dark stain spread across her favorite Persian rug—the one she and Daniel had brought back from their honeymoon in Iran. The coffee table was buried under cigarette butts, dirty plates, and scraps of food.
With a cold, hollow feeling in her stomach, Emily moved toward the bedroom.
There, sprawled across her bed in muddy boots, was a young man she had never seen before. He was flipping through her personal diary as casually as if it were a magazine in a waiting room.
“Excuse me,” Emily said, stunned. “Who are you?”
“Tyler,” the stranger muttered without looking up from the pages. “Katie’s friend. Why are you so uptight?”
“I own this apartment,” Emily said, her voice sharpening. “And I am telling you to leave my home immediately.”
“Relax, lady,” Tyler snorted, finally raising his eyes to her. “Katie said I could hang out here. She’s the hostess, isn’t she?”
“No,” Emily said, the word coming out like a crack of glass. “I am the hostess. And you are getting out right now.”
“OUT OF MY HOUSE!” she screamed, with all the force she had left.
The shouting brought Linda running in, followed by Peter and Katie.
“What is this performance now?” Linda demanded indignantly. “Emily, have you lost every last trace of decency? This is our dear Katie’s guest!”
“I don’t care whose guest he is. I want everyone out of my apartment.”
“Aunt Emily, you’re overreacting,” Katie said in a soothing, protective tone, as if Emily were the unreasonable one. “Tyler only wanted to meet the family. We’ve been dating for six months.”
“In my bedroom?” Emily asked. “In my bed?”
“Daniel!” Linda shrieked. “Get in here this instant! Your unstable wife is making a scene again!”
Daniel slowly emerged from the kitchen, chewing a sandwich topped with red caviar—the very delicacy Emily had been saving for a romantic dinner with him.
“Emily, what’s the problem?” he asked lazily.
“What’s the problem? What’s the problem?” Her voice rose until it nearly broke. “There is a drunk stranger lying in my bedroom, my apartment looks like a dump, and my husband is asking me what the problem is!”
“Tyler is a decent guy,” Katie insisted, immediately defending him. “He was just nervous about meeting everyone, so he drank.”