**Diary Entry**
I never thought Id be writing about this, but today was difficult. James looked up from his phone, his voice flat. “You need to stop talking to your mother. Shes a bad influence on you.”
I froze in the middle of the kitchen, my tea halfway to my lips. Did he really just say that?
“What?” was all I managed.
“I mean it,” James finally met my eyes. “Your mothers always meddling. Every time she visits, we end up rowing.”
“James, thats absurd,” I set the cup down, my hands trembling. “Shes my mum. The only one Ive got.”
“Exactly why you cant see how toxic she is,” he stood and paced. “She criticises everythingour flat, my job, how I treat you. Nothings ever good enough.”
I sank into a chair. Mums words from last night echoed in my head: *”Emma, love, why did James snap at you over dinner? I dont like how he speaks to you sometimes.”*
“She just worries about me,” I said quietly.
“She wants to control you,” James snapped. “Shes used to having you to herself. Now she has to share, and she cant stand it.”
“Thats not true! She was thrilled when we got engaged.”
“Thrilled?” He scoffed. “Remember what she said when we announced it? *Dont rush, Emma. Maybe think it over.*”
“She just wanted me to be sure”
“She wanted you to call it off!” he cut in. “And now shes sabotaging us. Every visit ends in a fight. Dont you see that?”
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. It was trueafter Mum left, James and I always seemed to bicker. But surely that wasnt her fault?
“Its just coincidence,” I murmured.
“Its not,” he said firmly. “She plants doubts in your headtells you Im lazy, that I dont earn enough. Then you come at me with complaints.”
“I dont”
“Last week, who had a go at me for watching football instead of fixing the shelf? Who put that idea in your head?”
I faltered. Mum *had* mentioned that men should help more around the house.
“See?” James pressed. “And suddenly youre upset we dont spend enough time together. Whered that come from? Your mum again?”
“She just said couples should talk more…”
“Exactly!” He smacked the table. “She twists your thoughts, then you bring them to me. We were fine before she started visiting all the time.”
I tried to remember. After the wedding, Mum stayed away, saying newlyweds needed space. But after Dad passed, she started dropping by more.
“Shes lonely, James. She needs me.”
“I get that,” he said, softening. “But she cant take her grief out on our marriage. Think about itwe hardly argue when shes not here. But the moment she walks in, you turn into someone else.”
“Someone else?”
“Critical. Unhappy. Like her voice is coming out of you, not yours.”
I chewed my lip. Maybe he was right. After seeing Mum, I *did* start noticing flaws in James Id ignored before.
“But what do I say to her? That I dont want her around?”
“You dont have to cut her off. Just meet her for coffee instead. Keep some distance.”
“I cant justshes my *mum*.”
“And Im your husband,” he said sharply. “I wont tolerate her interfering anymore.”
My chest tightened. Choosing between them felt impossible.
That evening, Mum called. *”Emma, darling, how are you? James isnt still cross about yesterday, is he?”*
“Why would he be?”
*”Well, I did say your flat was chilly. Maybe he thought I was criticising.”*
I remembered James muttering after she left: *”Nothings ever right. Too cold, too hot, too this, too that.”*
“Its fine, Mum,” I said carefully.
*”You know, Ive been thinkingyou ought to get a job. Youre too bright to just sit at home.”*
“James and I agreed Id take time off”
*”Agreed? Or did he decide for you?”* Her tone sharpened. *”Emma, youve got a degree. Dont waste it.”*
“I like being at home.” But even I heard the doubt in my voice.
*”Do you? Or have you just convinced yourself you do?”*
Later, when James came home, I asked, “Why dont you want me to work?”
He froze. “Let me guessyour mum?”
“Is it so wrong to ask?”
“We *talked* about this. Why stress yourself? My salary covers everything.”
“But I could contribute”
“And whod run the house? Cook dinner?” He cupped my face. “I want to come home to you, Emma. To *us*.”
“Other couples manage”
“Other couples divorce,” he said flatly. “Youre letting your mum mess with your head again.”
The next day, Mum turned up unannounced with groceries. *”Im making stew. You barely eat properly anymore.”*
“I eat fine”
*”Frozen meals and pasta?”* She bustled past me. *”Wheres the fresh veg? The meat?”*
As she cooked, she asked about James. *”Why was he so grumpy last week? If hes taking things out on you, tell me.”*
“Mum, *stop*. Everythings fine.”
*”Fine?”* She turned. *”Youve lost weight. You look exhausted.”*
I touched my face. I *had* been sleeping poorly, fretting over tiny spats with James.
*”From what? Youre home all day. Unless…”* Her grip tightened on my shoulder. *”Emma, be honest. Is he hurting you?”*
“No! God, Mum”
*”Then why do you seem so small? You used to light up a room. Now youre a shadow.”*
When James came home early, his jaw tightened seeing her.
*”James! Perfect timingstews nearly ready.”*
“Not hungry,” he said curtly, then pulled me aside. “We *agreed*. Whys she here?”
“She just wanted to help”
“Help?” His voice dropped. “Or interfere? What were you two talking about?”
I hesitated. How could I tell him shed asked if he was abusive?
That night, after Mum left, James sat me down. “You need to choose, Emma. Be my wife, or her daughter. You cant be both.”
I cried for hours. How *could* I choose?
When I finally told Mum how James felt, her face fell. *”So Im the villain now?”*
“I just need space to figure *us* out.”
*”Fine.”* She stood, hurt. *”But dont come crying when you realise I was right.”*
James came home late. “Shes gone?”
I nodded. “And you were rightshe was too involved. But I wont cut her off.”
He pulled me close. “I just want us to be *us*.”
Maybe balance *is* possible. But God, it hurts getting there.
