Vicky got along much better with my mum, you know.
Oh, if I started listing all the ways my ex was better than you, wed both be embarrassed. Well, maybe not me, actually, snapped Natalie, scrubbing the kitchen table harder than necessary. If you and your mum were so happy with Vicky, why did you two break up?
Victor turned away, scowling at the window.
You know how that story goes
Exactly. So stop going on about your precious Vicky, alright? Natalie cut in sharply. Or Ill be the next ex.
She wasnt bluffing. Natalie had reached her limit.
Shed met Victor nearly a year ago through mutual friendsshe even knew Vicky, though not well. Vicky had brought Victor along one night, then vanished off the radar a couple of months later.
One evening, after one too many pints, Victor had confessed theyd split because he caught her cheating. Hed even shed a tear. At the time, Natalie found it endearinga man unafraid to show emotion, who valued love. Something inside her had stirred, making her want to comfort him.
Now, she realised that “something” had probably been maternal instinct, not romantic interest. But back then, it was enough to spark a relationship.
It started sweetly. Hed pick her up after work, drive her home, send cute texts every day, even nagged her about wearing a proper coat. Natalie felt cherished.
The first red flag came when Vicky messaged her out of the blue.
Hey. Look, I heard youre seeing Victor. Not my business, but be careful. He and his mum come as a package deal.
Natalie noted the warning but brushed it off. Love overcame worse obstacles, right? Just because things went south with one woman didnt mean they would with her.
Thanks, but I think well manage, she replied, ending the conversation. It felt disloyal to entertain Vickys doubts.
Victor, meanwhile, had no such reservations about her comfort.
When his mother, Margaret, first showed up unannounced, Natalie tried to be understanding. Maybe neither of them realised how intrusive it was. Margaret probably just worried about her son and wanted to see who he was living with.
Natalie sent Victor to answer the door while she scrambled to get dressed, hastily tied her hair back, and stumbled outstill half-asleepto meet her potential mother-in-law. Margaret was already rummaging through the dresser in the living room.
Goodness, what a mess, Margaret sighed, smiling condescendingly. No wonder your socks never match. Natalie, dear, after breakfast, Ill teach you how to fold clothes properly. No more wrinkles or lost items.
No “hello,” just criticism. Natalie was stunned. A stranger digging through her underwear in her own home felt like a violation, but snapping back seemed petty so early on, so she bit her tongue.
Oh, love, those dark circles! Margaret clucked sympathetically. You need cucumber slices, or better yet, get your kidneys checked. My friend Margaret
Natalie nodded politely, feigning interest in a strangers ailments while longing to crawl back into bed. It was 8 a.m. on a Sunday. Shed stayed up late, planning to sleep in.
That plan died quickly.
Margarets visit stretched into the evening. Natalie endured a lecture on flower care, bathroom scrubbing, and silver polish, even practising under supervision. She was drained. Worse, Victor never once stepped in or hinted they needed space.
Is your mum always this intense? Natalie ventured that night.
She wasnt against close families, but boundaries mattered.
Yeah. Why? Shes just trying to be friends, Victor shrugged. Vicky and I used to live with herproper lively, it was. Now shes lonely.
Please tell me were not moving in with her, Natalie groaned.
Whats the problem? Youve got a thing against my mum? Victor tensed. Vicky got on with her just fine.
Natalie stayed quiet. Vicky was eight years younger and a people-pleaser. Of course they got on. She probably knew Margarets friends by name and medical history, ironed sheets perfectly, and baked pies to her specs.
But Natalie hadnt signed up for that. Shed lived enough to know: the fewer outsiders meddling in a relationship, the better. Victor disagreed.
Mums sociable. Gets on with anyone.
Not everyone wants that, Natalie almost said but held back.
It got worse. Margaret returned the next morningearly againto inspect the fridge.
Chicken eggs? I only ever bought quail eggs for Victor. Much better for men, she declared. And these shelves filmy. You eat off these, Natalie. Really, you should
I dont lick the shelves, Natalie thought but said, Ill clean them later. We were hoping to relax today. Its Sunday.
Victor, of course, was still asleep, leaving her to entertain his mother.
Exactly! Sundays are for cooking and cleaning, Margaret said briskly. Fetch the sponges. Next weekend, Ill teach you steak-and-kidney pieVictors favourite.
Natalie froze, arms crossed. She wasnt about to play housemaid on command.
Margaret, maybe take my number? So you can call before visiting. I might have plans next weekend.
Call? Can I not visit my own son?
You can. But he lives with me now. We should respect each others space.
Vicky never minded.
Well, my exs mum never barged in at dawn. She brought cherry scones, though. Want the recipe?
Margarets face tightened. Wrinkles deepened. Her eyes flashed.
Think carefully, dear. The nightingale wont outsing the lark here.
She left, but the tension lingered. Natalie was at a loss. Victor ignored her concerns, his mother treated their flat like her own, and Vickys ghost haunted every conversation.
Vickys stuffed cabbage was better. Her mum taught her, Victor would muse over dinner.
Great. Get her to teach you, then.
Natalie suspected Margaret was poisoning Victor against her but refused to engage. She just wanted the topic gone.
A quiet month passed before the cycle repeated. Another dawn doorbell. This time, Natalie refused to answer. Rude? Maybe. But was it ruder than ignoring her boundaries?
Five minutes later, Victor stormed out, groggy and furious.
Whyd you ignore the door?
Because I dont want visitors who rifle through my things uninvited.
Shes my mother! Here to see me!
Then meet her outside. Not in my home.
The row that followed probably woke the neighbours. Victor accused her of rejecting his family; Margaret screamed through the door, demanding entry, blowing up their phones. Finally, Natalie snapped.
Enough. Either you explain what “guest” means to your mum and send her home, or were done.
Victor chose the latter.
Natalie wasnt heartbroken. Theyd never married. Bullet dodged, really. A life tethered to his exs shadow and his mothers whims held no appeal.
Months later, gossip reached her: Victor had a new girlfriend. A mutual friend filled her in.
She works with me. Moved in with him and his mum but already wants out. Asked to meet you.
Why?
Apparently, according to Margaret, youre the perfect woman. Gorgeous, strong-willed, brilliant cook.
Were talking about the same Margaret, right?
Seems she only likes you once youre gone, the friend shrugged.
After that, Natalie listened more carefully to warnings. She still trusted her judgment but stopped dismissing rumours outright. And she steered clear of men who idolised exesor worshipped their mothers.
