“Stop talking to your mothershe’s a bad influence on you,” demanded James, barely looking up from his phone.
Emily froze in the middle of the kitchen, tea cup in hand. Had he really just said that?
“What?” was all she managed.
“I mean it,” James finally looked at her. “Your mothers always meddling in our business. She stirs up trouble every time she comes over.”
“James, how can you say that?” Emily set the cup down with shaky hands. “Shes my mum. The only one Ive got.”
“Exactly why you dont see how shes tearing us apart,” James stood and paced the kitchen. “Every visit, we spend a week picking up the pieces. Suddenly, she doesnt like our decor, or Im not treating you right, or I dont earn enough.”
Emily sank into a chair. Her mothers words from last night echoed in her mind: “Em, love, why did James snap at you over dinner? I dont like how he speaks to you.”
“Mum just worries about me,” Emily said quietly. “She wants me to be happy.”
“She wants to drive a wedge between us!” James snapped. “Dont you get it? She resents you being married. Shes used to having you to herself.”
“James, thats ridiculous” Emilys eyes welled up. “She was thrilled when we got engaged.”
“Thrilled?” James scoffed. “Remember what she said when we announced it? Dont rush, Emily, maybe take more time to think.”
“She just wanted me to be sure”
“She wanted you to change your mind!” he cut in. “Now shes sabotaging us from the inside. Every time she visits, we argue. Dont you notice?”
Emily wiped her eyes with her sleeve. It was trueafter her mums visits, tension always flared. But was it really her fault?
“Its just coincidence,” she muttered.
“No, its not,” James said firmly. “She plants doubts in your head. Tells you Im not good enough. Then you come at me with complaints.”
“I dont”
“Last week, who had a go at me for watching football instead of putting up that shelf? Who put that idea in your head?”
Emily went quiet. Her mum *had* mentioned that men should help around the house, not just lounge about.
“See?” James pressed. “And the other day, suddenly youre upset we dont spend enough time together. Whered that come from? Another suggestion from Mum?”
“She just said couples should talk more…”
“Exactly!” James smacked the table. “She fills your head with nonsense, and then you bring it to me. Everything was fine before she started visiting all the time.”
Emily tried to remember. Right after the wedding, her mum had kept her distance, saying newlyweds needed space. But after Dad passed, shed become a near-constant presence.
“Shes lonely since Dad died,” Emily said. “She needs me.”
“I get that,” James sighed, softening slightly. “But she cant take her grief out on our marriage. Em, think about it. We barely argue when shes not around. But the moment shes here, you turn into someone else.”
“Someone else?”
“Critical. Unhappy. Like her voice is speaking through you.”
Emily bit her lip. Maybe he was right. After her mums visits, she *did* start scrutinising James more, noticing things shed once ignored.
“But what do I even say to her?” she asked helplessly. “How do I tell her I dont want her around?”
“You dont have to cut her off,” James said. “Just see her less. Or meet her outneutral ground.”
“James, I cant just… Shes my mum. After Dad, its just me.”
“And youve got a husband,” he reminded her. “I wont tolerate her interfering in our lives.”
Emilys chest tightened. Choosing between her mum and her husbandhow was that even possible?
“Listen,” James took her hands. “Im not saying cut her off. But limit her influence. Dont share every detail of our life. Dont bring her opinions into our home. Just… create some space.”
“What if shes hurt?”
“And what if *Im* hurt that my wife values her mothers advice over mine?” he countered.
Emily sighed. There was logic in his words, but it didnt ease the ache.
That evening, her mum called.
“Em, love, how are you?” came the familiar voice. “James isnt still cross about last night, is he?”
“Mum, why would he be?”
“Well, I *did* mention your flat was chilly. Maybe he thought I was criticising him.”
Emily recalled Jamess muttered comment after her mum left: *”Nothings ever right. Too cold, too hot, foods too bland, too salty.”*
“Its fine, Mum,” she said carefully.
“You know, Ive been thinking,” her mum went on. “Maybe you should get a job? Youre cooped up at home. Extra income wouldnt hurt.”
“Mum, James and I agreed Id stay home for now”
“Agreed, or *he* decided?” Her mums tone sharpened. “Love, youve got a degree. Why waste it?”
“I like being at home,” Emily said, but even she heard the doubt in her voice.
“Do you? Or have you just convinced yourself you do?” A pause. “I worry youre losing yourself in this marriage.”
“Mum, please”
“Im your mother. Who else will tell you the truth? You used to be so independent. Now youre fading into the background.”
After hanging up, Emily sat at the kitchen table, troubled. *Had* she changed?
When James came home, she met him with: “Why dont you want me to work?”
He froze mid-step. “Let me guessMums idea?”
“Its not just her! Im asking.”
“Em, we talked about this. Why stress over a job? My salary covers us fine.”
“But I could contribute”
“And whod run the house? Cook dinner?” James hung his coat. “I come home tired. I want my wife here, our home peaceful.”
“Plenty of couples manage both”
“Plenty also divorce,” he said bluntly. “Are you unhappy at home?”
“No, but”
“Then why let her mess with your head?” He pulled her close. “Im thinking of *us.* Our peace.”
Emily leaned into him, but her mums words lingered: *”Youre losing yourself.”*
The next day, her mum dropped by unannounced, carrying groceries.
“Thought Id make a roast,” she announced, bustling in. “Youre not eating properly.”
“Mum, I *am*”
“Wheres the protein? Fresh veg?”
“I *have* vegetables”
“Potatoes and carrots dont count.” Her mum waved her off. “Let me fix you a proper meal.”
As she cooked, she chatted about her neighbours, her weekthen, inevitably, turned to James.
“Why was James so moody last week?” she asked, stirring gravy.
“Work stress”
“He doesnt take it out on you, does he?” Her mum studied her. “If somethings wrong, tell me.”
“Its *fine*”
“Fine?” Her mum set the spoon down. “Youve lost weight. Youve got shadows under your eyes.”
Emily touched her face. Lately, she *had* been sleeping poorly, frayed by constant tension with James.
“Just tired”
“From what? Youre home all day, no kids…” Her mum cupped her cheek. “Love, be honest. Is he unkind to you?”
“No! Its not like that”
“Then why do you seem so… smaller? You used to light up a room. Now youre just… quiet.”
The front door opened. James was home early.
“Oh, hello, Margaret,” he said flatly, stepping into the kitchen.
“James! Perfect timingroasts nearly done.”
“Not hungry. Ate at work.”
“Nonsense, homemade foods always welcome.”
“Not tonight.” His tone was final. He turned to Emily. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Mum just got here”
“*Now.*”
In the bedroom, James shut the door. “We agreed,” he said lowly. “What part of limit visits wasnt clear?”
“She just turned up”
“And you couldnt say we had plans? That you were busy?”
“James, she brought food”
“Emily.” He gripped her shoulders. “You agree to one thing, do another. Hows this supposed to work?”
“I cant just *
