Chapter 18: Emily mother-in-law slaps Emily

The silence Mrs. Maddison left behind felt suffocating, wrapping itself around Emily like a heavy chain.

David remained at the kitchen table, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fingers tapping against the wood in a rhythmic, restless pattern.

Emily stood by the sink, arms folded, heart still racing. She had expected **anger** from him, had **prepared** for it. But his **silence**? That was the greatest betrayal of all.

At last, David sighed, shoving the newspaper aside.

"Was that really necessary, Emily?"

Her laughter was dry, hollow.

"Oh, David, I have no idea. Was it necessary for your mother to **tear me apart** while you just sat there like a piece of human furniture? Was it necessary for her to walk into **my** house and act as if I'm nothing more than an unpaid servant?"

David's jaw tightened further.

"You were being dramatic. You didn't have to push her out like that."

Emily feigned shock, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Oh, **I'm** the dramatic one? That's rich, coming from the man who just sat there while his mother **demolished** his wife and didn't say a single word."

David stood suddenly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Emily, you don't have to play the **victim** here."

Emily snapped.

"Oh, I **shouldn't**? Then what should I do instead, David? Should I take notes from your mother? Maybe I should start criticizing **you** every day—maybe I should remind you how wrinkled your shirts always are, or how you never match your socks. Or better yet, should I start telling you, every single day, that you **could have married someone better**?"

David's fists clenched at his sides.

"You're twisting everything around."

Emily scoffed, shaking her head.

"Am I? Or do you just hate it when the truth is **spoken aloud**?"

Before David could reply, the front door **swung open again**.

Emily turned sharply.

Mrs. Maddison **marched back inside**, her face twisted with fury.

Of course.

Why would she **really** leave when she had **unfinished business**?

"I'm not done," Mrs. Maddison announced, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

Emily sneered.

"Oh, fantastic. I was just realizing how much I **missed** being insulted in my own home."

Mrs. Maddison closed her eyes briefly, inhaling as if summoning patience.

"You are **ungrateful**."

Emily remained **dead serious**.

"I'm just **so** ungrateful for expecting the woman who raised a **spineless** man to show basic **human decency**."

David slammed his fist onto the table.

"Emily, **enough!**"

Emily turned to him, her expression mocking.

"Oh, **now** you find your voice? Amazing. Maybe if your mother had belittled **you** instead of me, you would have spoken up **sooner**."

Mrs. Maddison took a step forward, her gaze burning.

"You think you're so **clever**, don't you?"

Emily sighed dramatically.

"Not particularly. Just **exhausted**. Tired of pretending to be the 'perfect little wife' while you and your mother treat me like a **faulty machine** that doesn't work the way you **want** it to."

Mrs. Maddison's nostrils flared.

"You're a **disgrace**."

Emily let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to her chest.

"A disgrace? **Me?** Oh no, whatever will I do? How will I possibly go on, knowing that my **beloved, supportive** mother-in-law does not approve?"

Mrs. Maddison's face turned red with anger.

Then her hand **lashed out**.

The sharp **crack** of the slap echoed through the kitchen.

A stunned silence followed.

Emily's head snapped to the side, her cheek stinging. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching as the shock faded—only to be replaced by a **burning rage**.

Slowly, she turned her head back, locking eyes with Mrs. Maddison.

David did **exactly** what she expected.

Nothing to defend her.

Instead, he **yelled at her**.

"Emily! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he shouted, his face red with fury. "You just **couldn't** let it go, could you?! You had to **push her**!"

Emily blinked, unable to process what she was hearing.

"You're **blaming** me?" she asked, her voice eerily calm.

David jabbed a finger at her.

"You started the fight! You started the **arguing**, and now **look** what's happened, Emily! You **provoked** her! You **always** do this!"

Emily let out a breathless, bitter laugh.

"Oh, this is **priceless**. Your mother **hits me**, and somehow, it's **my** fault?"

David ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his breathing heavy.

"Maybe if you weren't such a **damn brat**, this wouldn't have happened!"

That was it.

That was the **last straw**.

Emily didn't **think**.

She **acted**.

Her hand **flew**.

The **slap** that landed on David's face was just as sharp, just as loud as the one Mrs. Maddison had delivered moments earlier.

David barely had time to react before Emily **drove her knee up into his stomach**.

A strangled yell tore from his lips as he **doubled over**, clutching his abdomen.

Mrs. Maddison let out a **horrified shriek**.

"You little—!"

Emily didn't care.

She didn't care about anything.

Because suddenly, the **weight** of everything crashed down on her.

The years of **silence**.

The years of **endurance**.

The years of trying to **fit** into a mold that was **never meant for her**.

She had let them **break her down**—**piece by piece**—for far too long.

Not anymore.

She didn't wait for David to recover.

She didn't **wait** for Mrs. Maddison to start screaming at her again.

She **turned and ran**.

Her legs carried her out the front door, down the steps, and into the cold night air.

She barely felt the chill against her skin.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else.

She didn't know where she was going.

She just knew one thing.

She was **never going back

Emily found her way back home late at night, her pulse still racing from everything—the slap, the knee to David's stomach, the way she had bolted from the house like a woman escaping a fire.

She wasn't entirely sure why she had returned.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the harsh reality that, for better or worse, this was still her home.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

David was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. At the sound of the door clicking shut, he looked up, his eyes blazing with fury.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was sharp, filled with disgust.

Emily folded her arms, dropping her bag onto the table. "This is still my house, David."

David scoffed, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. "You're unbelievable. You attack me, storm out, and now you just walk back in like nothing happened?"

Emily smirked. "Oh, please. Spare me the theatrics. You and your mother had plenty to say about me before I left. I'm sure you got it all out of your system."

David stepped closer, fists clenched at his sides. "You humiliated me, Emily. You disgraced my mother. And the worst part? You don't even feel bad about it. You're only ever thinking about yourself."

Emily let out a bitter laugh. "Oh? That's rich, coming from the man who couldn't even say 'our house' just now. For you, it's always about your mother. Your pride. Your comfort. Meanwhile, I'm just supposed to sit here and take the abuse, right?"

David exhaled sharply. "What the hell do you want from me, Emily?"

She tilted her head, a slow, mocking smile spreading across her lips. "David, don't act like you care about respect. Not when you've been cheating on me with Jane."

David's entire body went rigid.

His expression emptied, his face carefully blank.

"Excuse me?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

Emily stepped forward, her pulse thundering in her ears. "Don't play dumb. I've known for a long time. Did you really think I wouldn't notice the late-night texts? The bullshit excuses? The sudden 'business trips' that made no sense?"

David's jaw tightened. "You're being ridiculous."

Emily let out a hollow laugh. "Am I? Then why do you look so uncomfortable, David?"

He turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. "I don't have time for this."

Emily's smile sharpened. "Oh, but you had time for Jane."

David spun back toward her, his glare searing. "You want to play the victim? Fine. Go ahead. But don't pretend you were a perfect wife, Emily."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh? So now I wasn't a good enough wife? That's your excuse for cheating?"

David let out a humorless laugh. "You were exhausting. Always nagging, always starting fights. Do you think being married to you was easy?"

Emily took another slow step forward, her voice quiet but razor-sharp. "So, just to be clear—you cheated, and somehow, that's my fault?"

David smirked. "Oh, don't act so shocked. You were too busy trying to be right all the time to actually be a wife."

Emily's blood boiled. Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists. "And what does being a wife mean to you, David? Keeping my mouth shut? Smiling while you betray me? Pretending I don't see what's right in front of me?"

David rolled his eyes. "Jesus, can you even hear yourself?"

Emily's laugh was sharp, biting. "Oh, I hear myself loud and clear. And I hope you do too, because let me tell you something, David—you started this war. So don't act surprised when I'm ready to fight back."

David's frown deepened. "You think you can threaten me?"

Emily's eyes gleamed with fury. "Oh, sweetheart, this isn't a threat. It's a promise."

David let out a harsh breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're insane."

Emily giggled. "No, David…" She met his gaze head-on. "I've just finally accepted reality for what it is."

David stared at her, chest rising and falling heavily, his hands twitching as if he wanted to throw something—punch something. But instead, he did something unexpected.

He turned around.

And he walked away.

Emily blinked, stunned for just a second. "That's it? That's all you've got?"

David didn't answer. He grabbed his coat off the rack, slung it over his shoulder, and stalked toward the door.

Emily narrowed her eyes. "You always do this. Just like your father. You run the moment things get too real."

David stopped. His spine went rigid.

For a moment, she thought he might turn back, might finally face her.

But then he inhaled sharply, yanked open the door, and stepped outside.

SLAM.

The door rattled on its hinges, his footsteps fading into the night.

Emily stood alone, the silence swallowing her whole.

She had finally said what she should have said years ago.

And for the first time in a long time…

David was the one who ran.

She exhaled slowly, shakily.

The storm wasn't over. If anything, this was only the calm before the real destruction.

But she wasn't afraid anymore.

She was ready.