CRACKING AT THE SEAMS

ALINA

The sound of the doorbell forced me to move hastily. I wondered who was there. My ivory white tee was hurriedly dragged over my still wet hair, and I rushed down the stairs.

One glance through the peephole and shock froze me to the spot. I forced a fake smile on my face and pulled the door open.

"Hello, Mrs. Stewart," I offered a polite greeting to my mother-in-law, then faced her daughters. "Hi Beni, Hi Beth."

All three pairs of eyes strolled with disdain over my casual outfit.

"I see you still dress like the poor thing that you are," Beni commented, and Beth snorted.

"You can't take the wretch out of her, can you?"

They both giggled like they had just made incredible jokes.

Mrs. Stewart pushed into the foyer, and her mean daughters followed suit. I was well aware that they didn't like me. They never had, and it especially made it worse that I once used to work in the hotel their brother and son threw his graduation party in before we fell in love and got married.

I was poor, an orphan, and with no social or economic connections and benefits to offer them. To them, I was merely a piece of furniture that Zach would have to give up eventually.

"Where is Zach?" Mrs. Stewart asked, glaring at me.

"He's at work." I smiled, getting my bearings. "Come on, let me offer you something."

"We're here to see Zach, not you," she rebutted.

I nodded my head in understanding I didn't feel. "I know that. But you can at least get comfortable and let me offer you something to drink while I reach him."

Mrs. Stewart's gaze traveled over me in slow appraisal. Her nose upturned in unhidden disgust as she fully took me in. I didn't think there was anything wrong with my outfit of Jean skirts and a fitted tee, but she seemed to disagree.

I couldn't blame her, though. She had on a navy blue dress and silver heels, complete with an assortment of expensive jewelry that screamed bloody wealthy. Both her daughters were in varying degrees of skirt suits, one midi and one mini, one in bright yellow, the other in pastel pink. Their feet also adorned in stilettos and their jewelry also in full steam.

"What do you think you can offer me in my son's house?"

I squared my shoulders. "This is also my house, Ma'am. It has been since Zach and I got married eight years ago."

Her face pulled into a sneer. "This house belongs to my son and not to you. I don't know what you did to make him keep you here this long, but I'm letting you know it won't be long before his eyes are opened and you are out of here."

Her words caused an ache in my chest that I forced down with a swallow. "You'd have to get used to the fact that this house, your son's affection, and the Stewart name is as much mine as it is yours. If your opinions had preceded his feelings, then the ten years that we have been together would not have existed."

Without waiting for any of them to say more, I turned away from the living room and walked away. I was tired of being talked down to. If they wanted to make themselves comfortable, they could; if they wanted to leave, they should.

"Where do you think you're going, Alina?" Mrs. Stewart called after me. "We're supposed to have dinner together tonight. Prepare it."

I hurried up the stairs and into my bedroom, picking up my phone and dialing Zach's phone. I listen to it ring for long moments.

No answer.

I dialed again. Still no answer.

I pressed the call button one more time and waited patiently. Still nothing.

Lord, help me.

*********

"This meal doesn't taste half bad," Beth commented as she shoveled slices of steak into her mouth.

Her sister joined her. "I guess the lowlifes can be useful in the kitchen."

Zach laughed alongside his siblings and mother, causing my blood to boil.

My fingers squeezed the napkin that sat beside my plate as I tried to rein in my temper.

"Zach sweetie, there's something we need to address." Mrs. Stewart spoke up after their laughter had dialed down.

"What's that?" My husband asked, his eyes trained on her as he shoveled more forkfuls of the food I cooked into his mouth.

"Grandkids."

My fork dropped down onto the table with a resounding click. "Mrs. Stewart, we both know that..."

She cut me off with an angry click of her tongue. "I'm talking to my son, Alina. Show some respect." She turned to face Zach with an annoyed expression. "You're going to let her talk to me like that?"

Zach cleared his throat and turned to face me. "Alina."

"Our children are ours, Zach. Ours alone. We're the only ones who have the right to determine how that goes."

"You ungrateful little wench!" His mother thundered. "You've been married to my son for how long? Is it so wrong that I want to have grandkids?"

"No. But you can't force it down our throats. This is our decision to make."

"Are you going to tell me you've been the one deciding to not get pregnant this whole time?"

"No. That's not what I'm saying." I exhaled a weary breath. "Could you please just stay out of this? The family is Zach and mine, not yours."

Zach's voice cut through the air like a flash of lightning. "Enough, Alina! That's my mother you're talking to."

Shock had me going quiet instantly, my gaze jumping to his. "What?"

"You have no right to talk to my mother like that. Apologise."

I scoffed in disbelief. "But you say nothing when she talks down to me?"

"Apologise to her, Alina!"

Tears prickled my eyes, pain a dangerous stab in my heart. "Zach."

"She's not wrong to want us to have kids, Alina. That's what every mother wants for their child. Apologise to her. Or else..."

"Or else what?" The first tear fell, trailing down my cheek in a warm stroll.

He dumped his napkin down on the table, pushing his chair back so hard it topples over and then he walked away from the dining room.