**Diary Entry**
*8th November*
“Stop talking to your mothershes a bad influence on you,” James said, not even looking up from his phone.
I froze in the middle of the kitchen, tea mug in hand. Had I just heard him right?
“What?” was all I managed.
“I mean it,” James finally met my eyes. “Your mums always interfering. Every time she visits, we end up arguing.”
“James, what are you saying?” I set the mug down, hands shaking. “Shes my *mother*. The only one Ive got.”
“Exactly why you cant see how shes tearing us apart,” he snapped, pacing. “Every visit, its the sameshe criticises the house, says I dont treat you right, that I dont earn enough. Then suddenly *youre* picking fights with me over things that never bothered you before.”
I sank into a chair. Mums words from last night echoed: *”Emma, love, why did James raise his voice over dinner? I dont like how he speaks to you.”*
“She just worries about me,” I whispered.
“No, she *manipulates* you,” James said coldly. “She resents that youre married. You were hers first, and now she has to share you.”
“Thats ridiculous! She was *happy* at our wedding!”
“Happy?” He scoffed. “Remember what she said when we got engaged? *Dont rush, darlingmaybe think it over.*”
“She just wanted me to be sure”
“She wanted you to *back out*,” he cut in. “And now shes chipping away at our marriage. You dont see it, but after every visit, you turn into someone elsedoubtful, critical. Like youre parroting *her* complaints, not your own.”
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. It was trueafter Mum left, Id nag James about laundry left undone or nights he spent watching football instead of talking to me. Things shed pointed out.
Later, when Mum called, her voice was bright. *”Hows my girl? James isnt still cross about yesterday, is he?”*
“About what?” I asked cautiously.
*”Oh, you knowwhen I mentioned the draught in your flat. Maybe he thought I was criticising.”*
I remembered Jamess muttered complaint: *”Nothings ever good enough for her.”*
“Its fine, Mum,” I lied.
*”Listen, lovehave you considered going back to work? Youre too clever to be stuck at home.”*
“We agreed Id take time off”
*”We? Or* he *decided?”* Her tone sharpened. *”Emma, youve a degree. Dont let him clip your wings.”*
That evening, I confronted James. “Why dont you want me to work?”
His face darkened. “Let me guess*Mums* idea?”
“Its not just her! I could contribute”
“And wholl keep the house running?” he countered. “I come home exhaustedI want peace, not chaos.”
But Mums words festered: *”Youre losing yourself in this marriage.”*
The next day, she arrived unannounced, groceries in hand. *”Thought Id make a proper roast. Youve been living on takeaways.”*
As she cooked, her questions circled back to James. *”Why was he so glum last week? Does he take it out on you?”*
When James came home early, his jaw tightened at the sight of her. *”Ah. Mother-in-laws here.”*
She beamed. *”Roasts nearly ready!”*
“Not hungry,” he said flatly, then turned to me. “We need to talk. *Now.*”
In the bedroom, he hissed, *”We agreedless interference. And yet shes here, stirring the pot.”*
“I cant just *turn her away*!”
“You *can* set boundaries,” he said, gripping my shoulders. “But if you wont, I will. I wont play villain in my own home.”
After he stormed out, Mum pressed me: *”Whats wrong? Did you argue?”*
I took a breath. “Mum do you *like* James?”
*”Darling, I just want you happy. And you dont seem it.”*
Her concern, once comforting, now felt suffocating.
Later, James returned to find me waiting. “Shes gone,” I said.
He exhaled. “And?”
“You were right. She oversteps. But shes still my mum. I wont cut her offbut Ill stop letting her come between us.”
He pulled me close. “Thats all I ask.”
For the first time in months, the knot in my chest loosened. Maybe balance *was* possibleif I stopped being tugged between wife and daughter, and learned to be both.
