Are you out of your mind, Irene? Its a fever of forty degrees! Sarah shrieked, clutching Irenes shoulders and trying to pull her back onto the sofa. Irene stubbornly tugged at her coat, her hands shaking so badly the sleeves barely slipped on.
Leave me alone, Sarah! I have to get to work, my report is burning up! she wheezed.
What report? You can barely stand! Call the boss and tell him youre ill! Sarah urged.
I cant! Ive already taken two sick days this month. Theyll sack me! Irene snapped.
Sarah snatched the coat from her and flung it onto the armchair. Sit down this instant! Ill call a doctor right now!
Irene collapsed onto the sofa, completely spent. Her head spun, vision blurred. She was an accountant at a small firm; the pay was modest, but losing the job would mean catastrophe. Her family lived from paycheck to paycheck.
Sarah dialed a number. Ive called Andrew. Hell come and take you home, she said, punching in the number of Irenes husband.
Hes in a meeting! Irene protested.
Forget his meeting! His wife is dying and hes sitting in a conference room! Sarah retorted.
Andrew arrived half an hour later, bundled Irene into bed, and summoned a doctor. The doctor prescribed antibiotics and strict bed rest.
Youll be in bed for a week. No work, he instructed.
But I have
No buts. A fortydegree fever isnt a joke. If it gets any worse youll end up in hospital. The doctor left, and Andrew perched on the edge of the bed.
Irene, why didnt you say you were that sick earlier? he asked gently.
The job
The job can wait. Your health cant.
Irene closed her eyes, exhausted. Work, house, cooking, cleaning everything fell on her. Andrew helped little, always claiming he was tired from work.
Her phone buzzed. A message from her motherinlaw, Mrs. Margaret Clarke: Irene, dont forget my anniversary dinner in two days. Well be waiting at two oclock. Dont be late.
Irene groaned. Sixtyyearold Margaret was throwing a big banquet at a fancy restaurant, inviting relatives, friends and colleagues.
Andrew, Moms text the anniversary, Irene said.
Right, the day after tomorrow. You remember?
I do, but Im ill. I cant go.
Andrew frowned. How can you not? Its my mothers celebration!
My temperatures up! The doctor said I must stay in bed for a week!
Itll drop in two days. Take some paracetamol and well go.
Im serious, Andrew!
Mom will be furious! You know how she is!
Irene knew Margaret was a formidable, touchyfeathered woman. If things didnt go her way, she made scenes, and she never spared a daughterinlaw. Margaret often hinted that Andrew could do better.
Let her be angry. I cant physically make the trip, Irene whispered.
Please try, for me! Andrew pleaded.
Im on my deathbed here! And youre worried about a party! Irene snapped.
Andrew slipped to the kitchen, dialing his mother. Mum, hello Yes, weve got a problem. Irenes really ill, high fever Im not sure shell make it Please dont shout Okay, well try.
He returned, looking guilty. Mom says if you dont come shell never want to see you again.
Great, I didnt want to see her anyway, Irene muttered.
Listen, Andrew said, rubbing his forehead, Ill go alone and tell her youre too sick. Shell understand.
Shell think Im faking it, Irene muttered.
Fine, let her think what she wants. The important thing is you stay healthy.
She glanced at him with a flicker of gratitude.
The next morning her fever dipped to thirtyeight. She managed to shuffle to the kitchen and make herself a broth. She felt weak but at least her head stopped spinning.
Sarah called. Howre you?
Better. Fevers down.
Good! Youre not going to work tomorrow?
No, the doctor gave me a weeks sick leave.
Right. Rest up.
Andrew wants me to go to the anniversary.
What? With a fever?
He says Mom will be hurt if I dont.
Does he care about your health at all?
Apparently not, Sarah said, pausing. Do you really want to go?
I think Ill stay home. No strength left.
Good. Let him go alone. Shell make a scene, but youre not to blame.
Irene knew Sarah was right, yet the thought of Margarets wrath lingered. Margaret could hold a grudge for months, turning her son against his wife.
That evening Andrew came home with a bouquet. Ill take the flowers to Mom tomorrow.
Beautiful, Irene murmured.
Are you sure you wont go?
Absolutely. I cant.
He sighed. Fine. Ill tell her youre seriously ill.
Thanks.
The only thing is shell still be angry, Andrew warned.
Yeah, I know.
The next day her temperature spiked to thirtynine. She took her antipyretic and lay back down, too weak to rise.
Andrew dressed in his suit, polished his shoes, and left for the restaurant. Im heading out. Call me if anything changes. Ill keep my phone on me.
Ill manage, Irene replied, feeling a strange relief that she wouldnt have to smile through a forced gathering.
When Andrew was gone, Sarah called again. Stuck at home?
Yes, hes at the anniversary alone.
Thats it. Theyll all be there, complaining, but youre safe.
Irene smiled faintly. Her friend was right: Margaret liked to criticize everything the soup, the laundry, the cleanliness of the flat. No matter how hard Irene tried, it was never enough.
The phone rang. Margarets voice came through. Irene? Its me. I hear youre not coming to my birthday dinner.
Yes, Im still ill. The doctor has forbidden me to get up, Irene said.
A heavy silence followed. So on the day I turn sixty you decide to stay in bed, Margaret replied coldly. Everyone gets through their important events, even when theyre sick.
Im seriously ill! Irene protested.
Everyone falls ill, dear, Margaret said. But they still manage to attend.
I havent found that strength, Irene whispered.
Fine, thank you for your honesty. Now I know exactly how you feel about me. She hung up.
Sarah called an hour later. Did she call?
Yes, shes angry.
Let her be. Its not the first time.
Im scared Andrew will side with her now.
Has he ever taken your side before?
Irene thought about it. Andrew had always leaned toward his mother, even when she was clearly wrong.
That evening Andrew returned, looking weary. He sat on the beds edge. How are you?
Same fever, Irene replied.
Mom is very upset you didnt come.
I know, Irene said softly. She called me a bad daughterinlaw.
Andrew fell silent.
Do you think we should keep living like this? Irene asked finally.
What do you mean?
That we keep walking on eggshells while she dictates everything.
Andrew stared at the ceiling. I I dont know.
The next day Sarah visited. How are you holding up?
My fevers finally gone. Im getting my strength back, but Andrew is distant. He hardly talks.
Do you think youll stay together?
I dont know. He still puts his mum before me.
Then maybe its time to choose, Sarah said gently. You deserve someone who respects you, not just his mother.
Weeks passed. Irenes health returned, but Andrews aloofness grew. One night, after a terse dinner, he said, Irene, maybe we should stop talking about this.
What about us? she asked.
Its just Im tired of fighting. I think we should separate.
Separate? Irenes voice shook. Because I didnt go to an anniversary?
Its not just that. I feel you never respect my mother.
I respect my own life, Irene shot back. If you cant see that, then were done.
She packed a bag and left, heading straight to Sarahs flat. Sarah welcomed her with a warm hug. You did the right thing. He never deserved you.
I invested five years of my life in him, Irene sighed. I loved him, cared for him, and he chose his mother over me.
Now youre free, Sarah said, pouring tea. You can rebuild your life.
Irene stayed with Sarah for a while, returned to work, and gradually reclaimed her independence. A month later Andrew called, asking to meet at a café to sort out the divorce papers.
They sat opposite each other. So were really doing this? Irene asked.
Yes. I think its best for everyone, Andrew replied.
For your mother, definitely, Irene said, smiling faintly. The tension melted, replaced by a strange sense of relief.
The divorce was swift; there were no assets to split. Irene moved into a cosy studio flat, landed a betterpaying job, joined a gym, and started traveling with friends.
Six months later she met Alex, an engineer who was also divorced and childfree. He didnt bring his mother to every conversation, and when he mentioned his own mum, he said she lived in another city and visited only a few times a year.
I respect my parents, but I draw the line at letting them run my life, Alex said on their first date.
I get that, Irene replied. My exs mother used to control everything.
They eventually married in a small ceremony with only close friends and family. Alexs mother, a gentle lady, welcomed Irene warmly and never meddled.
Years later, while strolling through a park, Irene spotted Andrew walking arminarm with a new partner. He glanced up, smiled, and said, Hey, Irene!
Hi, she replied, feeling no bitterness. Congratulations on your new relationship.
He smiled, Thanks. This is my girlfriend, Emma.
They chatted briefly and went their separate ways.
Later Sarah asked, Do you ever regret not going to the anniversary?
Irene laughed, No. It was the turning point. It forced me to put myself first.
Sarah nodded, Sometimes the thing we fear the most becomes the catalyst for a better life.
Irene reflected on the whole saga and realized the core truth: protecting your health and dignity is more important than satisfying anyones expectations, even those of family. Sayingno to toxic demands may feel painful, but it opens the door to a life where you are truly respected and free.
