Emily, have you lost your mind? Its a fever of ninetytwo degrees!
Rachel clutched Emilys shoulders, trying to haul her back onto the sofa. Emily stubbornly pulled at her coat, her hands trembling so badly the sleeves barely slipped on.
Let go, Rachel! I have to get to work! My report is burning!
What report? You can barely stand! Call the boss, tell him youre ill!
I cant! Ive already taken two sick days this month. Theyll sack me!
Rachel snatched the coat from Emily and flung it onto the armchair.
Sit down now! Ill call a doctor!
Emily sank onto the sofa, completely spent. The world spun, her vision went hazy. She was an accountant at a tiny firm, earning a modest salary that barely kept the household afloat. Losing the job was not an option.
Ive called Mark, Rachel dialed Emilys husbands number. Hell come and take you home.
No, hes in a meeting!
I dont care about his meeting! My wife is dying, and hes still sitting in a conference!
Mark arrived half an hour later, bundled Emily into bed, and summoned a doctor. The doctor prescribed antibiotics and strict bedrest.
Youll be in here for a week. No work.
But I
No buts. Ninetytwo degrees is no joke. Keep this up and youll end up in hospital.
When the doctor left, Mark perched on the edge of the bed.
Emily, why didnt you say you were sick earlier?
Work
Work can wait. Health comes first.
Emily closed her eyes, exhausted. Work, house, cooking, cleaningeverything rested on her shoulders. Mark helped little, always saying he was weary from his own job.
Her phone buzzed. A message from motherinlaw Margaret Hughes: Emily, dont forget my birthday is the day after tomorrow. I expect you at two oclock. Dont be late.
Emily winced. The birthdaysixty years. Margaret was planning a grand dinner at a London restaurant, inviting relatives, friends, colleagues.
Mark, mothers text. Her birthday.
Right, the day after tomorrow. You remember?
I do, but Im ill. I cant go.
Marks brow furrowed.
How can you not? Its my mothers birthday!
Emily, my temperature! The doctor said a week of rest!
Itll drop in two days. Take some paracetamol and well go.
Im seriously ill!
Mum will be hurt! You know how she is!
Emily knew Margaret: a domineering, quicktotake offense woman who threw tantrums if things didnt go her way. She never spoiled her daughterinlaw, often implying Mark could find a better match.
Let her be angry. I physically cant.
Emily, try a little! For me!
Mark, Im on the brink! And youre talking about a birthday!
Dont exaggerate! Its just a cold!
Emily turned to the wall, refusing to speak. Mark slipped into the kitchen, his voice low as he called his mother.
Mum, hello Yes, we remember Listen, theres a problem. Emilys very sick, high fever Im not sure shell make it Please dont shout Right Well manage.
He returned, looking guilty.
Mum says if you dont come, shell never see you again.
Perfect. I dont want to see her anyway.
Emily!
Im ill! Shes issuing ultimatums!
Shes upset. Its her birthday, a big day.
Its her day, not mine. What does it matter to me?
Mark sank into a chair, covering his face.
Fine. Ill go alone and say youre terribly ill. Mum will understand.
Shell think youre lying.
Let her think what she likes! Your health comes first.
Emily looked at him with a flicker of gratitude, finally feeling understood.
The next morning her temperature slipped to thirtyeight. She shuffled to the kitchen and made herself some broth. She was still weak, but her head didnt spin.
Rachel called.
How are you?
Better. Fevers down.
Good heavens. Are you still planning to work tomorrow?
No, the doctor gave me a week off.
Right, rest then.
Tomorrow is Mums birthday.
And?
Mark wants me to go.
With a fever?
He says Mum will be hurt.
Does he care about your health?
Apparently not.
Rachel fell silent.
Do you really want to go, or stay home?
Stay. I have no strength.
Good. Let him go alone.
Mum will throw a fit.
Let her. Youre not at fault for being sick.
Emily knew Rachel was right, but a knot of unease remained. Margaret could make a storm of silence for months, turning Mark against his wife.
That evening Mark arrived from work with a bouquet.
Bought these for Mum tomorrow.
Lovely.
Emily, youre definitely not going?
No. I cant.
Mark sighed.
Ill tell Mum youre seriously ill.
Thanks.
Shell still be angry. You know her.
I know.
The next day her fever spiked to thirtynine. She took a painkiller and slipped back into bed, unable to summon any strength. Mark dressed in his Sunday suit, polished his shoes, and left for the birthday.
Im off. Youll manage?
I will.
Call if you need anything. Ill have my phone.
Okay.
When he left, Emily felt a strange relief. No need to face anyone, no forced smiles. She could simply lie there.
Rachel called again.
Hows it going? Mum called?
She called. Shes angry.
Let her be. Its not the first time.
Im scared Mark will side with her now.
Has he ever been on your side?
Emily pondered. Mark always seemed to protect his mother, even when she was clearly in the wrong.
That night Mark returned, looking tired.
How are you?
Same fever.
Right.
A heavy silence hung.
Mum was very upset you didnt come.
I know. She called.
What did she say?
That Im a bad daughterinlaw, that I didnt bother to show up on her special day.
Mark stayed quiet.
Shes right in a way.
Emily bolted upright.
What?
Emily, it really was her day. You could have tried.
My temperature is thirtynine!
Take your medicine and go. Just sit for an hour.
So my health doesnt matter?
It matters, but Mum matters too!
Emily turned away, pressing her back into the wall.
Leave.
Emily, dont be angry
I told you to leave!
Mark slipped out. Emily stared at the blank wall, tears streaming, feeling the familiar betrayal of a husband who always chose his mother.
The next day Rachel called, voice trembling.
I cant take this any longer.
What happened?
Mark said I should have gone. He put Mum above my health.
What a goat! Hes not worth it!
Im exhausted, Rachel. Tired of that motherinlaw, tired of Mark always siding with her.
Have you tried a serious talk?
I have. He just bows to his mother.
Then you need an ultimatum.
What kind?
Either he chooses you or his mum.
Hell choose her. I know that.
Then why stay?
Emily stared at the ceiling, the question echoing.
A week later her fever finally fell. She began to walk around the flat, regaining strength slowly. Mark kept his distance, eating dinner in silence, retreating to another room, answering questions with monosyllables.
Are we going to keep this silence?
About what?
About us. About what happened.
What happened? You didnt go to mums birthday. Thats it.
I was ill!
You could have tried.
I physically couldnt!
Mark stood up from the table.
You know what, Emily? Lets stop. Im tired of this.
And Im tired of you always siding with your mum!
Shes my mother! I owe her protection!
Do I not deserve protection?
He said nothing and left the room.
Emily dialed Rachel.
I think Mark and I are over.
In what sense?
He wont speak to me. Hes still angry about the birthday.
Seriously? Over you not going because you were sick?
Seriously.
Do you really need a man like that?
I dont know. He used to be kind, caring.
That was before Mum started meddling.
Probably.
Rachel was quiet for a moment.
What if you went to see Mum? Apologise?
Apologise for what? I did nothing wrong!
I know, but maybe itll smooth things over?
Emily thought. Maybe it was worth a try.
The next morning she gathered her coat and walked to Margarets modest flat on the outskirts of the city. She knocked, and the door opened to reveal Margarets cold stare.
Ah, you. What do you want?
Good afternoon, Margaret Hughes. Im here to apologise.
For what?
For not attending your birthday.
Margaret smirked.
A little late, isnt it?
I was seriously ill. I couldnt get out of bed.
All excuses.
Its not an excuse! My temperature was ninetytwo degrees!
Emily, Ive lived sixty years. I know when someone truly cant, and when they simply dont want to. You didnt want to come. Thats the truth.
Emily felt a flare of anger.
Margaret, I came to apologise, to mend things. And you
Im saying the truth. You never loved me. You tolerated me for Mark. And now youre no longer tolerating me.
Thats false!
Its the truth. You know what? Im fed up. Im tired of pretending were one family. Im tired of your sour face at gatherings.
Emily rose.
Clearly I have nothing more to do here.
Exactly. Leave and dont return.
On the staircase Emily broke down, sobbing. She had come to reconcile and was met with fresh poison.
Back home she told Mark.
I went to see your mother, tried to apologise.
And?
She threw me out.
You must have said something wrong.
Mark, I just apologised! She started accusing me of everything!
Mum cant accuse without cause.
She can! She can do anything!
Mark fell silent.
You know what, Emily? Lets get a divorce.
Emily stared, stunned.
What?
Divorce. Were clearly not meant for each other.
Because I didnt go to her birthday?
Not only that. You never respected her.
I didnt respect her? She just threw me out, called me liar and hypocrite!
She deserved it.
Emily grabbed her bag.
No divorce. Ill leave. Live with your mum. Shes clearly more important than his wife.
Emily, stop being hysterical!
This isnt hysteria. Its realizing I wasted five years of my life!
She stormed out and drove to Rachels flat. Rachel opened the door, saw Emily in tears, and pulled her inside.
What happened?
Mark and I split.
How?
He suggested divorce, and I agreed.
Rachel hugged her.
Good riddance. He didnt deserve you.
I poured years of love into him!
He chose his mum. Thats his choice.
Emily wept through the night while Rachel brewed tea, promising things would get better.
A week passed. Mark didnt call. Emily lived with Rachel, went back to work, and returned home each evening. Rachel, one evening, said:
You know, Emily, maybe this is for the best. Youre free now. You can live for yourself.
Probably.
Youll find a decent man who values you, not his mother.
Im not looking for men now. I just want to rest.
Rest. Youve earned it.
One night Mark called.
Emily, we need to talk about the divorce paperwork.
When?
Tomorrow after work, at the café on Baker Street.
They met, sat opposite each other over tea.
So were divorcing? Emily asked.
Yes. I think its best for everyone.
Especially your mum.
Mark winced.
Emily, please dont.
What shouldnt I do? Speak the truth? You chose her over me. Thats a fact.
I didnt choose! I just realised were different.
Different. I respect my parents, but I wont let them run my life. Youre a mothersson.
Mark stood.
Ill have the papers processed through solicitors.
Go.
Emily cried, not from sorrow but relief. At last it was over. She was finally free.
The divorce settled quickly; there was hardly any joint property to split. Emily moved into a small studio, landed a betterpaying job, joined a gym, met friends, started travelling.
Rachel beamed.
See? Youve blossomed!
I feel so much better.
Does Mark still call?
No. And I dont need him.
Six months later Emily met Alex, an engineer, divorced, childfree, living alone. They started dating, going to the cinema, cafés, theatres. Alex never mentioned his mum every five minutes.
My mum lives up north, visits once a year, we chat on the phone. I dont let her interfere with my life, he said.
Thats sensible, Emily replied.
How about yours?
My parents are supportive, they dont meddle.
Perfect.
A year later they married modestly, just families and close friends. Alexs mother, gentle and kind, welcomed Emily warmly.
Live as you wish, she said. Just be happy.
Emily finally felt happiness she hadnt known for years.
One afternoon she crossed paths with Mark on the street. He was with a young woman, stunning.
Emily? Hi!
Hello.
How are you?
Great. Im married now.
Congratulations! This is Zoe, my girlfriend.
Nice to meet you.
They chatted for five minutes, then went their separate ways.
Rachel later asked:
How do you feel? Miss him?
Not at all. Im happy.
Thats right. You deserve joy.
Emily smiled. She had earned it.
It all began with that birthday she didnt attend. It seemed like the end of the world then, a loss of husband and family. In truth, it was the beginning of a new, happy chapter.
Sometimes you must say no, even if it hurts, even if someone takes offense, because your health and dignity outweigh others expectations.
Margaret never forgave her daughterinlaw, but Emily no longer needed that approval. She built a life free from a toxic motherinlaw and a motherboy husband.
Rachel once said:
You know, that birthday turned out to be the best thing that happened to you.
Why?
Because you finally put yourself first, said no, and that sparked your liberation.
Emily reflected, realizing her friend was right.
The cursed birthday she skipped reshaped her entire lifefor the better. And she had no regrets.
