Get those stitches out and get to the stove, you lazy woman…

“Goodness, you’re so pale! Michael mentioned the surgery, but I thought you’d be better by now.” Patricia seemed either surprised or disappointed by her daughter-in-law’s state. “Emily was discharged yesterday,” Linda said. “She needs rest. The doctor said at least a week.”

“A whole week? That’s ridiculous! My late husband was back at work five days after gallbladder surgery.” Lunch was tense. Patricia nitpicked every detail. Michael came home drunk at five. “Michael, are you drunk?” Linda raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks, so what?” he snapped. “I got a reprimand at work.” “Oh, sweetie, you must be starving,” Patricia fussed. Dinner was a nightmare.

Michael lashed out at everyone, especially Emily. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t even pour tea right. Your hands are shaking.”

Linda watched it all with a stony face. Her silence unnerved Emily. The next morning, Michael left silently, supposedly for work. Patricia and Sarah went shopping. Linda helped Emily change, every movement causing pain.

“Honey, we need to talk. I want to understand what’s going on in your family.” “Mom, everything’s fine. Michael’s just going through a tough time.”

“A tough time? For ten years? I stayed quiet, respected your choice, but I can’t anymore.” She took her daughter’s hand. “I have cancer, Emily. For six months now.” “What? Mom, why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want to worry you. I’m in remission now. But the illness changed a lot. I can see my daughter’s living with someone who doesn’t value or respect her.”

Emily sobbed, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. For the first time in years, she let herself feel the pain. By noon, Patricia and Sarah returned. Patricia headed to the kitchen, loudly criticizing the misplaced plates. The front door slammed, and Michael stormed in, his face contorted with rage.

He marched into the bedroom where Emily was resting. “Get up and get to the kitchen. My mom and sister are here,” he ordered. “You’re the wife, the hostess, or what are you?”

But then Linda stepped into the bedroom. “Did you say something, Michael?” she asked quietly, and everyone froze. Her voice made Michael step back.

“You, uh, you shouldn’t interfere. This is our family.” “What’s the issue here?” Patricia ventured, with Sarah lingering behind her.

“Your son,” Linda said sharply, “is ordering my daughter to cook because you’re all hungry, and none of you care that she’s two days out of surgery.” “Oh, Michael was probably just joking, right?” Patricia laughed, but it rang hollow.

“From what I can tell, he’s always ‘joking’ like this,” Linda shot back. “Emily, honey, pack your things. You’re coming with me.” “She’s not going anywhere,” Michael roared. “She’s my wife.”

“She’s a person, not your property,” Linda replied. “And she’ll decide whether to stay with someone who can’t care for her or leave.”

The room fell silent. Emily slowly rose from the bed, wincing in pain. “I’ve tried for ten years to be a good wife. I cooked, cleaned, stayed quiet when you lashed out, got injured saving your mom, but I never even heard a thank you. I endured three years of pain.”

“Emily, dear, those are a wife’s duties,” Patricia interjected. “No, they’re not,” Sarah said suddenly. “Emily’s right. Michael’s always been like this with women, even back in high school.”..