The Baked Truth: How One Cod Turned a Family Upside Down
Edward returned home from work, weary but content. A delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. Rubbing his hands together, he peered inside.
“Mmm, that smells wonderful! What are you making, Emily?”
“I decided to bake a fish,” his wife replied calmly.
Before he could ask what spices she had used, peculiar sounds echoed from deeper in the flat. Edward tensed.
“Is that the neighbours making noise again?”
“No, not the neighbours. There’s a surprise waiting for you in the back room,” Emily said with a mysterious smile.
“What surprise?” he wondered.
“Go and see for yourself.”
Edward walked slowly down the hallway, carefully opened the door—and froze. There, sitting in the armchair as if nothing were amiss, was his mother, Margaret Whitmore.
She had arrived unannounced earlier that day. Emily, assuming it was a delivery, had opened the door without hesitation.
“Margaret, good day. Why didn’t you let us know? What if we hadn’t been home?”
“Edward’s at work, and you’re here. I can manage—I’m not an invalid yet. Where’s my room?”
“You can stay in here for now, and we’ll sort it out.”
“You have three rooms, and you can’t decide straight away? And how did he not know?”
“He wasn’t aware either. You didn’t tell him?”
“Why would I? I’m not visiting. I’ll be staying with you now.”
Emily held her tongue, though she felt everything inside her tighten. She needed to finish her work and asked her mother-in-law to wait. The older woman glanced around with a sneer before remarking,
“The fridge is empty…”
“The grocery delivery will be here soon.”
When the bags arrived, Emily quickly put together a simple meal—sliced cheese, cold cuts, bread, and tea.
“Would you like porridge, perhaps? Or pancakes?”
“Don’t trouble yourself. I can cook if I need to.”
Emily nodded and left. Half an hour later, her work completed, she returned to the kitchen only to hear that her mother-in-law had “claimed” the spare room next to the bathroom—the very one Edward used for his late-night computer sessions. The woman had already declared,
“What a mess, and the dishes! Does he even clean up after himself?”
“He works hard. This is where he relaxes.”
“Works hard? His toys are all over. You stay at home, ordering food online, while he slaves away day and night.”
Emily bit back her words. There was too much bitterness to voice now, but this wasn’t the time. She remembered a recent conversation with her own mother, when she had complained about Edward’s hobbies:
“At least he’s not out drinking. He plays quietly,” her mother had said.
“And when are we supposed to have children?”
“He hasn’t outgrown his childhood, it seems.”
And it was true. All the money his mother had given them for the flat, Edward had spent on expensive gadgets. A childhood dream, he’d called it. Yet the flat was in Emily’s name, thanks to her parents’ contribution.
After lunch, Margaret dozed off in her “new” room. Edward returned from work, heard the snoring, and frowned.
“Is that the neighbours?”
“No. Your mother. Go and talk to her.”
Margaret woke just in time. Without pleasantries, she began:
“I’m retired now. I plan to travel, and between trips, I’ll stay here. I’ll sell my house—after all, I gave you the money. So I have a right here too.”
“Mum, are you serious? We wanted to make that room a nursery. Emily won’t agree.”
“Then give me my money back. Fair’s fair.”
“I already send you money every month. We have our own family now.”
“Family? Emily sits at home. You carry the weight alone. Bring me the papers. I expect everything’s in order?”
Emily left silently and returned with a folder.
“Here they are. The flat is in my name. My parents paid the deposit.”
“And what about mine?”
“Spent. On your precious son. On his ‘childhood.’”
Edward stood, guilt in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mum. But I truly wanted it then. Now—I’ve had my fill. No more.”
“Is that so?” Emily snapped. “If you don’t stop, I’ll file for divorce. Then you can go back to your mother and your toys.”
“Emily, please! I’ll sell everything. I promise. Let’s have supper. No computer tonight.”
At the table, his mother sat stiffly, scowling.
“So, I’m unwanted here? I expected to live as I pleased.”
“You’re Edward’s mother. But this is our family. And I won’t live by your rules.”
“Edward, you’re henpecked!”
“Better under my wife’s heel than my mother’s thumb. You’ve made decisions for me my whole life. Enough. I’m grown now.”
Margaret rose without a word, grabbed her bag.
“Call me a taxi. I’m leaving. And you’ll remember this…”
Edward silently saw her off. When he returned, he sat at the table.
“I’ll have fish. And meat. Both. I’m starving.”
“And about the games—did you mean it?”
“Yes. I’ll sell them all. We’ll need the money for children. I’m ready now. And Mum… we’ll sort it out. As long as you’re beside me.”
Emily smiled. Inside, she felt it—that “forbidden fruit” had ripened at last.
