William slumped into the kitchen chair as Emily stirred dinner on the stove. His face was a picture of exhaustion.
“Emily, Mum and Dad are coming round again,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Emily set down the wooden spoon with a clatter and turned to him, hands on her hips. “Again? They were barely gone a fortnight!”
“I know… but what am I supposed to say? They’re my parents,” he replied helplessly.
Emily paused, then her eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “I’ve got a plan,” she whispered, leaning in.
By the time she finished explaining, William nearly toppled off his chair in shock.
Emily cherished the flat she’d inherited from her grandmother. After marrying William, they’d redecorated and made it their own. Her parents lived across town and rarely visited, but William’s family more than made up for it.
Every visit from Margaret and Gerald was an ordeal.
“We can’t possibly sleep on that sofa,” Margaret would announce the moment she stepped inside. “My back’s been killing me.”
Emily tried offering air mattresses, extra pillows—nothing worked. In the end, she and William were always booted from their own bedroom.
Their guests would stay for weeks, disrupting their work schedules, leaving dishes piled high, and blasting telly programmes late into the night. Mornings were groggy, and tempers were frayed.
Then came the final straw.
“We’ve found a new dentist—we’ll need to stay a month,” Margaret declared, already rifling through their wardrobe.
Before they could protest, she’d moved into their room, scoffing, “You’re young—you don’t know how to keep house properly. We’ll show you.”
But their “wisdom” only left Emily seething.
Margaret nitpicked every meal, while Gerald sniffed at portions. “Well, isn’t this hospitality—beans on toast again,” he’d grumble.
Emily bit her tongue, but resentment simmered.
“How much longer?” she whispered to William one night.
“At least another fortnight,” he sighed.
Then, the breaking point.
Returning from work, Emily found the furniture rearranged.
“Much better this way!” Margaret beamed. “The sofa belongs there, and the coffee table here. Proper feng shui!”
Emily gasped. “They’ve scratched the hardwood,” she hissed to William.
That night, she broke down in the loo.
Seeing her tears, William finally snapped. “I’ll handle it. They’ll be gone by supper.”
True to his word, his parents were on the next train home.
Months passed. Life settled.
Then—another call.
“Found a new dentist. We’ll stay with you again,” Margaret chirped.
But this time, William was firm. “We’ve booked you a lovely B&B nearby. We’ll cover the first week.”
“What?! We’re family!” Margaret spluttered. “You’d shove us off on strangers?”
“You chose to treat our home like a hotel,” William said coldly.
Grumbling, they agreed—but without free meals and convenience, two weeks was all they lasted before retreating home.
“Best patch things up,” Gerald muttered on the train.
“Or we’ll never see the grandkids,” Margaret sighed.
Meanwhile, Emily sipped her tea in blissful silence, her home finally her own again.
She’d learned one thing: set boundaries early—or others will run your life like it’s theirs.