In the damp, grey town of Wetherby, where pebble-dashed houses huddled together against the biting wind, Emily’s parents had done everything to give their daughter an education and a solid start in life. During her fourth year at university, Emily met James—a young man from a modest family but with ambitious dreams. Her mother, Margaret, eyed him warily, thinking him a bit too much of a dreamer, but she bit her tongue. It wasn’t her place to interfere; Emily had to make her own choices. Love had blinded Emily—James was the only one for her, and no doubts from her mother could sway her.
The wedding was a quiet affair, just close family. A grand celebration was out of reach—James was knee-deep in his studies, refusing part-time work to stay focused. His parents, simple folk, weren’t in a position to help, not that anyone expected them to. Their indifference hung in the air like the thick fog that rolled in from the River Wharfe.
Then came the question: where to live? Around that time, Margaret’s father passed away, and the family made a hard decision—they’d give their flat to the newlyweds and move in with an elderly aunt to care for her. For Emily and James, it was a lifeline—they couldn’t afford rent, and student housing wasn’t an option due to Emily’s local ties. Overjoyed, they accepted without a second thought, unaware of the cost her parents had paid.
Married life was far from idyllic. James buried himself in research while Emily, having graduated, found work. Children were out of the question—they barely scraped by, cutting corners wherever they could. Her parents helped when possible, but then another blow struck: Emily’s grandmother passed. The house went to Margaret and her brother, and after endless rows, they agreed she deserved a larger share, having cared for their mother all those years. They sold it, split the money, and with her portion, Margaret bought a rundown two-bed flat in an aging Leeds terrace. It needed serious work, but hiring builders was beyond their means.
Hopeful, they turned to their daughter: “Emily, we can’t afford tradesmen. We were counting on James helping your dad while you and I handle the smaller jobs.” They expected gratitude—after all, they’d sacrificed their comfort for the young couple. Instead, they were met with cold refusal. James snapped, “Why didn’t they think ahead? Why buy a wreck if they can’t afford repairs? Could’ve got a decent one-bed flat instead of dragging us into it. My parents live within their means—they don’t dump their problems on us. I’m prepping my thesis—I don’t have time to play handyman!”
Emily, flushing, relayed his words: “You know how driven James is. He has to defend his thesis this year or lose his shot at a contract in Stockholm. Other lads did it and now they’re on good money. Maybe you could start the work yourselves, and I’ll pop round after my shifts? Or save up for builders later.” Her words cut deep. They’d given up their home, and now they were being blamed for standing in the way.
Resentment festered. Her parents decided to move back in, taking the larger room and leaving Emily and James the box room. Two weeks later, Emily approached her mother, voice trembling: “Mum, how long are you planning to stay? James can’t work like this, and we’re always underfoot in the kitchen.” Margaret looked at her, weary but firm. “Emily, love, you’re not in my way. But we won’t be able to move for three years. We haven’t the strength for DIY, and saving up for proper work takes time. We’ll manage till then.”
“Three years?!” Emily shouted. “We’re at each other’s throats as it is—we’ll divorce before you move out!” Her father, silent till then, finally spoke: “Let James’ parents help. They’ve not lifted a finger, always left it to us. We gave you a home, and you can’t even say thanks. Think on that.”
The family teetered on the edge. Arguments between Emily and James became daily, her parents’ hurt swelling like a stormcloud. No one knew how this would end—maybe divorce was inevitable. James had repaid kindness with scorn, and now he faced the consequences. Or were her parents, blinded by bitterness, wrecking their daughter’s happiness?
What do you think—did her parents do right, teaching them a lesson? Or were they just acting out of spite?
