Matt sat down, resting his head on his hands. ‘Sandra, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…’
‘Of course you didn’t know,’ I said, crossing my arms, frustration and despair in my voice. ‘Because you never asked her questions. But now you have a choice to make, Matt. Are we partners or is this marriage just a game with your mum pulling the strings?’
He looked at me, his eyes full of regret, vulnerability seeping through his usually confident demeanour. ‘You’re right. I was an idiot. I’ll make it up to you. I swear.’
‘Good,’ I said and picked up my coffee, my tone leaving no room for argument. ‘Because I won’t play second fiddle to your mum. Ever.’
It had been a week since that showdown, and things were getting…better. Matt had tried. He’d apologised more times than I can count, and he was finally starting to see his mum for who she really was.
‘I never realised how controlling she’d been my whole life,’ he confessed one night, notes of shame and newfound clarity in his voice.
‘Better late than never,’ I replied, squeezing his hand.
I haven’t spoken to Linda since that night, and frankly, I like it that way. I prefer it that way. Random passive-aggressive messages from her I delete immediately. No drama, no involvement.
As for my salary? It stays where it belongs – in my account. My hard-earned money, my rules.
Matt was different, too. More considerate. More respectful. Like he’d finally realised what partnership really meant.
‘So,’ he asked me yesterday, ’are we okay?’
I looked him straight in the eye. ‘We’re working on it.’
What do you think? Was I being too harsh, or were they trying hard for a reason?