Chapter 2

Michael and Anna's goal was clear.

They worked themselves ragged, pinching every dollar, determined to scrape together a down payment for a small place of their own in this sprawling, indifferent city before they turned thirty.

To make that happen, Anna threw herself into her job.

She was a product manager at a tech company, juggling projects nonstop. Overtime was just part of life now.

Michael was an architectural designer, and when deadlines piled up, he pulled all-nighters at his drafting table, working straight through till morning.

They were like two birds building a nest, slowly piecing together a future they could call their own. It was exhausting, but they felt steady, and they always had something to look forward to.

That was until half a month ago.

Margaret, Anna's mother-in-law, suddenly appeared at their apartment, loaded down with bags from her hometown three hundred miles away, without so much as a phone call.

She said, "I just came to see how you are doing, and to help out a little."

Michael was both surprised and genuinely happy.

He grew up in a small town. His father passed away when he was young, and his mother raised him and his sister on her own, working double shifts to put him through college.

He was always close to his mother and carried a constant sense of guilt. He always felt she had given her whole life to him, and he had never been able to give her any comfort in return.

So when she showed up, he welcomed her with open arms. He even figured that with his mother around to help with the cooking and cleaning, Anna could finally catch a break.

Anna thought so too, at first.

Margaret was visiting for a while, so of course, she had to be a good host and make her feel welcome. She even took a day off to take Margaret grocery shopping and then made a full dinner.

Margaret took her hand and smiled warmly. "Anna, you are wonderful. Michael is lucky to have you."

The anxiety that had bubbled up from her disrupted routine was washed away by Margaret's words. Anna thought that maybe Margaret was not as difficult as she had feared.

But from the very next day, everything changed. The whole feel of the house shifted.

Margaret swept in with a take-charge attitude that left no room for discussion, quickly grabbing the reins of the household.

She took control of everything. What they ate, where things belonged, and even when Anna and Michael went to bed and got up. And of course, she set up her own rules for all of it.

Breakfast was a strict at-home affair, and Anna was expected to be the one making it every morning. Her reasoning was simple.

"What kind of household has the mother-in-law waiting on the daughter-in-law? That is just not right."

As for housework, Anna had to shoulder the bulk of it after she got off work.

"A wife is supposed to take care of the home. You're so busy with your job that you let the place fall apart. Does that sound right to you?" Margaret said.

And bedtime was strictly before eleven.

"Staying up late is terrible for your health. No wonder you drag yourself around like a ghost the next day. Just look at those dark circles. You look like you have not slept in a week."

Anna tried to explain that her job was demanding. Sometimes she had to stay late at the office, sometimes she had to handle urgent problems from home.

But Margaret replied in her "it's for your own good" voice, "No matter how important your job is, is it really more important than your health? Or your family? Anna, I am not trying to be harsh, but you need to start shifting your focus back toward home."

Anna had grumbled to Michael about it in private.

But Michael just rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

"That is just my mom. She is old-fashioned, set in her ways. She has been like this her whole life, and she is not going to change. She means well, so do not let it get to you," he said.

"Besides, she came all this way, and she will not be staying long. Just go along with it for now, alright? When things slow down at work, I will sit down and talk to her."

Anna looked at Michael's tired, pleading eyes, and she gave in. She would just tough it out for now.

Margaret was Michael's mother, after all. Maybe she just needed time to adjust to the city, and she would settle in eventually. Maybe she was just trying to feel like she belonged in this unfamiliar place, in their small home.

Anna kept telling herself things would get better. So she began to endure it.

Every day, running on too little sleep, she forced herself up early to make the breakfast Margaret demanded.

After work, exhausted, she cleaned and did laundry with Margaret watching her every move. She gave up her evenings.

No more reading, no more shows, no working from home. Just to be in bed by eleven, like Margaret insisted.

She felt like a wind-up toy, moving through the motions someone else had set for her.

Only on the rare nights when she dragged herself home after working late, sitting alone in the dark living room and staring out at the faint city lights, did a crushing emptiness settle over her.

Was that really the life she wanted? Did she work this hard, push herself this far, just to end up stuck in this small apartment, boxed in by all those rules?

What really chilled her was Michael's attitude.

It was as if he never saw her exhaustion. Or maybe he chose not to see it.

Between his mother and his wife, he always, almost by instinct, sided with his mother.

With a few words about being a good son, about family, about how much she had sacrificed, he waved away all of Anna's frustration and hurt.

Anna even started to wonder if Michael actually believed in Margaret's rules.

Did he think she was not measuring up as a wife?

That doubt was like a tiny splinter lodged in her heart. Not deep, but it pricked every time she thought about it.

"Anna, what are you standing there dreaming about? The scones are going to burn!"

Margaret's voice yanked Anna out of her thoughts.

She snapped back to the kitchen, hurriedly reaching for the oven mitts.

She fumbled the baking sheet, and a wave of hot air hit her face, making her flinch.

"Careful!" Margaret said, clearly annoyed. "If you burn yourself, we will end up in the emergency room, and I do not have time for that."

Anna stayed silent, using a towel to steady the hot tray, picking up the scones one by one, and setting them on a plate. Even so, her fingers still caught the heat, the pain sharp and stinging.

She brought the plate to the little dining table in the living room.