**Diary Entry 20th May**
“Mum said youre not the right fit for us,” explained my fiancé, calling off the wedding.
“Have you ordered the flowers yet?” asked Margaret, glancing at my wedding checklist. “The florists are booked up this time of yearwedding season, you know.”
I nodded without looking up from the wedding dress hanging on the mirror.
“Done. White roses and lisianthus, like we agreed.”
“Good girl. And the band? Is that DJ from Veronicas wedding still available?”
“Mum, everythings sorted,” I sighed. “I told you yesterday.”
Margaret set the notebook aside and studied me. My back was turned as I adjusted the dresss folds, but my tense shoulders gave me away.
“Katherine, why so glum? The weddings in a week, and you look like youre at a funeral.”
“Im fine. Just nervous.”
“Perfectly normal. I was a wreck before mine.”
I turned. My face was pale, dark circles under my eyes.
“Did you ever regret marrying Dad?”
She blinked at the question.
“Of course not. Your father was a good man. Wheres this coming from?”
“Just wondering if this is the right choice. What if James and I are too different?”
“Dont be silly. James is lovelyhardworking, doesnt drink, doesnt fool around. His mothers respectable, hes got a flat. What more could you want?”
I faced the mirror again. My reflection looked miserable.
“Mum, how do you know if you really love someone?”
“Katherine!” She threw up her hands. “A week before the wedding and youre asking this? Of course you love him. Why else would you say yes?”
“I dont know. Maybe because its expected. Im twenty-eightall my friends are married.”
“Exactly. Time to settle down, start a family. You cant stay a spinster forever.”
The doorbell cut her off. I answered, and a minute later, James walked in with a bouquet of carnations.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Margaret, lovely to see you.”
“Hello, son-in-law.” She smiled. “Ready to be a husband?”
“Absolutely.” He wrapped an arm around my waist. “Right, sweetheart?”
I forced a smile. “Of course.”
“And wheres your mother?” Margaret asked. “We were supposed to finalise the details today.”
James hesitated. “Shes not feeling well. Sends her apologies.”
“Again?” Margaret frowned. “Every week its headaches or blood pressure.”
“Shes just anxious about the wedding.”
I watched him closely. Something was offhis hands fidgeted, his gaze kept darting away.
“James, maybe we should visit her. See how she is.”
“No need,” he said quickly. “Shes resting. Best not disturb her.”
“Stay for tea, then,” Margaret offered. “I baked your favourite biscuits.”
“Thanks, but I cant. Work calls.”
He kissed me againrushed this timeand headed for the door.
“Wait.” I stopped him. “Ill walk with you. Need some air.”
“Dont bother. Ive got the car.”
“Then drop me at the shops. I need groceries.”
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Outside, his old car rattled to life. I buckled in, watching him.
“James, whats wrong? Youve been odd all day.”
“Just tired.”
“Is your mum really ill?”
He didnt answer, pulling onto the road first.
“Katherine we need to talk.”
My chest tightened. “About what?”
“The wedding.”
“What about it?”
He pulled over and killed the engine. Avoiding my eyes, he blurted out, “Mum said youre not the right fit for us.”
The world tilted.
“What?”
“Shes against the wedding. Says were not suited.”
“Butwhy? Weve been together eighteen months. Everything was fine.”
“I dont know. She feels strongly.”
“And what do *you* think?”
He shrugged. “Mums usually right. Shes got more experience.”
I stared, realising I barely knew the man Id planned to marry.
“But we love each other. Doesnt that matter more than her opinion?”
“Love,” he muttered, waving a hand. “Pretty words dont pay bills. Mum says youre too independent. Wont listen to me.”
“Whered she get that idea?”
“You earn more than me. Mum says wives like that dont respect their husbands.”
Anger flared. “So I should quit my job to please her?”
“Not quit. Maybe find something simpler. More time for family.”
“*Your* family, you mean.”
“Dont talk about her like that. She wants whats best.”
“For *you* or *her*?”
“Katherine, she raised me alone. Dad left when I was five. Shes sacrificed everything.”
“And now youll sacrifice *us*?”
“I cant upset her.”
The truth hit me. All this time, Id thought him kindif a bit passive. Id hoped marriage would toughen him. Instead, he was a mamas boy, unable to think for himself.
“So what now? Call it off?”
“Mum says postpone. Until you change.”
“Change *how*?”
“Be more agreeable. Domestic.”
A weight lifted. “Then were done.”
He looked startled. “Youre giving up?”
“James, I wont morph into someone else for your mothers approval.”
“But I love you!”
“No. You love the *idea* of marriage. You dont even know me.”
“Eighteen months together”
“Eighteen months of you never defending me. Never standing up to her. Never choosing *us* over her.”
“I hate conflict.”
“Exactly. Easier to let her decide.”
I got out, handing him the ring. “Return it. Save it for the next girl.”
Upstairs, I braced for Mums reaction. But she sat red-eyed at the kitchen table.
“Jamess mother called,” she sniffed. “Said the weddings off. That youre not right for them.”
I hugged her. “Mum, its for the best.”
“How? He was steady, reliable! Now what?”
“Better alone than with someone who doesnt love me.”
“You dont understand! Love grows.”
“Not with a man who lets his mother rule his life.”
She listened, then sighed. “Mummys boy. Stillwhat a waste of a lovely wedding.”
“Im keeping the dress. For when I meet someone who *actually* chooses me.”
She patted my hand. “You will, darling. Next time, pick a man who thinks for himself.”
For the first time in months, I felt free. Free of expectations, of fear, of pretending.
James could stay tied to her apron strings. Maybe one day hed realise what he lost. Or maybe not. Either way, its no longer my problem.
