Well, Emily got on much better with my mum.
You know, if I started listing all the ways my ex was better than you, wed both be embarrassed. Well, maybe not me, but definitely you, interrupted Sophie sharply, scrubbing the kitchen table. If you two were so happy with Emily, why did you even break up?
James turned away, sulking, and stared gloomily out the window.
You already know the story…
Exactly. So dont bring up your precious Emily again, Sophie snapped. Or Ill be your next ex.
She was already considering drastic measures.
Sophie had met James almost a year ago through mutual friends. She even knew Emily, though not well. Emily had brought James along, then vanished from the radar a couple of months later.
One night, after one too many drinks, James confessed hed caught Emily cheating. Hed even shed a tear. At the time, Sophie found it endearinga man unafraid to show emotion, who valued love. Something inside her clicked. She wanted to comfort him.
Now, she realised that “something” had probably been her maternal instinct, not romantic interest. But back then, it was enough to spark a relationship.
It started beautifully. Hed pick her up after work, drive her home, send sweet messages daily, and ask if shed dressed warmly. Sophie felt cherished.
Her first warning came when Emily messaged her.
Hey. Look, I heard youre seeing James. Not my business, but be careful. He and his mum are a package deal.
Sophie noted it but dismissed it as trivial. Love could overcome worse obstacles. Just because things went wrong with one woman didnt mean they would with her.
Thanks for the heads-up, but well figure it out, she replied, ending the conversation. It felt disloyal to James to engage further.
But James showed no such concern for her comfort.
When his mother, Margaret, first turned up unannounced, Sophie tried to be understanding. Maybe they didnt realise how intrusive it was. Perhaps Margaret just wanted to check on her sons living situation.
Sophie sent James to answer the door while she threw on clothes, tied her hair up, and stumbled out to meet her potential mother-in-lawonly to find Margaret already inspecting the drawers in the living room.
Everythings all jumbled, Margaret remarked with a condescending smile. No wonder your socks never match. Sophie, darling, after breakfast, Ill teach you how to fold clothes properly.
No “hello,” just criticism. Sophie was stunned. A stranger rummaging through her underwear in her own home felt like a violation. But snapping back seemed wrong, so she bit her tongue.
Oh, sweetheart, those dark circles! Margaret clucked sympathetically. You need cucumber masks. Or better yet, get your kidneys checked. My friend once
Sophie nodded along, pretending interest while longing to crawl back into bed. It was 8 a.m. on a Sunday. Shed stayed up late expecting to sleep in.
No such luck.
Margarets visit dragged on until evening. Sophie endured a barrage of critiqueshow to water plants, scrub the bathtub, polish cutleryeven practicing some of it. She was exhausted. And not once did James intervene or hint they needed space.
Is your mum always this… involved? Sophie asked carefully that night.
She didnt mind close families but craved boundaries.
Yeah. She just wants to be friends, James shrugged. Emily and I used to live with her. Now shes lonely.
Please tell me were not moving in with her.
Whats the problem? You dont like my mum? James tensed. Emily got on with her perfectly.
Sophie stayed silent. Emily was eight years younger and a people-pleaser. Of course theyd got along. Shed probably memorised Margarets friends medical histories and baked pies to her exact recipes.
But Sophie hadnt signed up for that. She knew too much interference spelled trouble for a relationship. James disagreed.
Mums sociable. She gets on with anyone.
“Yeah, but not everyone wants her to,” Sophie almost said.
It got worse. Margaret returned the next morning, this time inspecting the fridge.
Chicken eggs? I only used quail eggs for James. Much healthier for men. The shelves are filthyyou eat off these! Sophie, you should
“I dont eat straight off the shelves,” Sophie thought.
Ill clean them later, she said. We were planning to relax today.
James, of course, was still asleep.
Relax? Weekends are for cooking and cleaning, Margaret declared. Fetch a sponge. Next weekend, Ill teach you to make Jamess favourite meat pie.
Sophie froze. Arms crossed, shed had enough.
Margaret, maybe text before visiting? I might have plans.
Text? Cant I visit my own son?
Of course. But he lives with me now. We should respect each others space.
Emily never minded, Margaret sniffed.
My exs mum never barged in at dawn. She brought cherry pies instead. Want the recipe?
Margarets face darkened. Fury flickered in her eyes.
Think carefully, Sophie. The nightingale doesnt outsing the lark.
She left, but the tension lingered. James wouldnt listen, his mother treated their flat like her own, and Emilys ghost haunted every conversation.
Emilys stuffed cabbage was better. Her mum taught her.
Get her to teach you, then.
Sophie suspected Margaret was poisoning James against her but refused to dignify it. She just wanted the topic gone.
A month passed peacefullyuntil the doorbell rang again. This time, Sophie refused to answer. Rude? Maybe. But so was ignoring her boundaries.
Five minutes later, a groggy James stormed out.
Why didnt you open the door?
I dont want to. Guests should call firstand not rifle through my things.
Shes my mother!
Then meet her outside. Not in my home.
James erupted. The neighbours probably heard him accuse Sophie of rejecting him by rejecting his mother. Margaret yelled through the door, demanding entry, blowing up his phone.
Finally, Sophie issued an ultimatum.
Enough. Either you tell your mother what “guest” means and send her home, or were done.
James chose the latter.
Sophie wasnt heartbroken. They hadnt even married. Living with a man attached to his exs memory and his overbearing mother? No thanks.
Months later, news reached her: James had a new girlfriend. A mutual friend filled her in.
Shes moved in with him and his mum but already wants out. Asked to meet you.
Why?
Apparently, according to Margaret, youre the perfect woman. Beautiful, strong-willed, a great cook.
Were talking about the same Margaret, right?
Guess you only earn her praise once youve left James, the friend laughed.
From then on, Sophie paid attention to rumours. She still trusted her judgment but stopped dismissing warnings. And she steered clear of men who compared her to exesor couldnt cut the umbilical cord.
