Emily watched the dawn light creep across the kitchen window, lingered over the last sip of her peachscented tea, and hesitantly dialed a familiar number. Did she really want the answer she might hear?
Evelyn is Thomas there?
Dont hold him back. Let him go.
Yes, Thomas is with her. She took that as a positive reply.
Whos keeping him?
You are. He cant break free unless you do. Hes happier with his mother.
Good night to you.
It was 5:30a.m., but Emily knew Evelyn hadnt slept a wink.
Dont hold him? Thomas clung to her anyway. Emily, too, had fallen into that destructive attachment, but he held on even tighter. It was a vortex, spinning and impossible to escape.
It had all begun when Emily went on a date with a quiet, homebody fellow, not like Arthur. With Arthur, there was never a minute without a fight. He could fling dishes, overturn tables, or smash a kettle. Emily matched his volumeshe shouted, she shattered, she overturned. Their emotional seesaw left both of them, and the neighbours, exhausted.
Now Emily wanted a partner with whom she could sit down and talk, not one who smashed furniture.
Enter Thomas.
They reached for the same packet of shortbread in the confectionery aisle. The shop received that brand only twice a year, just as Emily passed on her way home from the office.
Without thinking, Emily seized the packet, then paused, realizing her action might make Thomas refuse to share. Arthur would have exploded, accusing her of being unpleasant.
Apologetically she said, Sir, Im sorry, but Im a fan of these biscuits. Theyre delightful, yet I rarely get any. They arrive early, and by the time I shop theyre gone. Could you let me have them?
Biscuits? he asked.
Those.
Take them. Im not a connoisseur. Ill just grab whatever I can.
Thomas, unlike Arthur, behaved like a fairytale prince. He was polite, never a bully, didnt hurl nightstands about. Disagreements were solved with conversationsomething Emily never imagined possible. With Arthur, any small criticism would see the whole flat strewn with broken things. With Thomas, everything flowed smoothly.
Later, at a stationery shop, Emily noticed the change was wrong.
Excuse me, she told the clerk, you didnt give me the correct change. I handed over a £50 note. The pens were £3 each. I should be owed £47, not £44.
For starters, I owe you nothing, the clerk snapped.
Why the rudeness? Im just asking about my change, not demanding your salary.
Open your eyes. Those pens cost £6, not £3. Who prints these price tags all day? To confuse folk like you in threedigit sums? You wont even look, but the tills are screaming.
Thomas leaned in, whispering, Theyre £6, Ill top up if needed. Why make a fuss over a £3 difference?
Emily was already pulling the price tag off the shelf.
£3! Hand over my change.
Another clerk intervened, The tags havent been updated. Cashiers are people toooften overworked, with deliveries and impatient queues. Pay £6, or leave.
Emily sighed, Fine, well pay £6. Its for my niece. Why skimp on a child?
The niece wouldnt be painting museum pieces, just a sunny picture in an album. Whether £3 or £6, Id buy them if the service werent dreadful.
Thomas said, Sorry, we apologise, Emily. Take the pens, keep the money, and lets go.
Emily shouted, Excuse me?! If a waiter poured soup on me on purpose, would you bow to him too? Youre a wimp!
She left in a fury as Thomas departed for his mothers house for a week. She called, wept, begged him to return, then cursed, then calmly told him it was over. He didnt answer.
After seven days Thomas turned up as if nothing had happened. Emily was frantic, but the underlying tension remained, merely pushed aside.
Now Thomas fled from every quarrel.
My nerves are frayed! Emily complained. With Arthur, his petty fights were like bitter radish, yet after a scream I felt relief. With Thomas, you bottle everything up, never speak, then run to your mother. When we first met, we discussed everything. Now arguments are global, and you disappear on a bus!
He returned with his usual line, Are you calm now? They never truly lived together. Thomas stayed at his mothers, and Emily didnt intrude.
You dont need your brush and comb, Emily said. Leave them here.
Can I have a shelf in the bathroom?
Stay here yourself.
When payday arrived, Emily asked how theyd split expenses. Thomas replied, I send my wages to my mum; she allocates.
What about the dates you took me on?
She tells me whats needed.
Can we live on my salary alone? Youre part of this house now.
Yes, Mum knows. Ill ask for whatever we need. Just tell me the shopping day.
Emily wanted a life with a partner, not a motherinlaw controlling the purse. She protested, Should I schedule grocery trips for you? Who signs the list, you or your mum? Ill have to coordinate directly with her, which just adds a middleman.
True to form, Thomas went back to his mother, disappearing for a week. Emily wanted to toss her brush away, yet something pulled her backan inexplicable attraction that neither could shake, even as they lived apart.
Why do you run to your mother at every chance? Emily asked. It isnt just our silent gaps; you actually want to leave.
I do. Its a split feeling. I miss you when Im there, but I miss my mum when Im here.
Her father, on a quick call, said, Hes childish, never matures. He hides behind his mums skirt. Hell never grow up, youll just keep negotiating through her.
Emily wasnt one to surrender.
Thomas finally brought compromise: My mum will earmark half my pay for us, and if we need more, shell help as a sponsor. Ill give you her number; you can call her directly for urgent purchases.
Give me one solid reason why my money should sit with your mum, Emily demanded. Youre not a teenager. You didnt pawn a piggy bank for us to waste.
Its sensible. Mum is wiser, wont squander. Well spend wisely because shes watching.
Ill spend my wages on my own junk!
Then Ill be financially savvymy mums way.
When Emily first received a transfer from Evelyn, it felt burdensome, but she thought she could adapt. She kept buying jewellery and perfume with her own cash. Yet Thomass mother began meddling.
Emily, you spend too much, its illadvised.
Ive looked at my online bank; Mum thinks the same. Lets have you send her half too.
Some relatives gave everything to their parents; Emily recalled friends begging for baby supplies, only to be told to wash cloths instead.
No. I can manage my money myself.
You cant.
Enough!
Mum demands
Then go to her!
Thomas left again, promising to return.
At 5:30a.m., after the call with Evelyn, Emily realised the futility of fighting. Thomas was happier with his mothersalary split, understanding in place. Why cling to him? Would he later beg her for diapers? Better to cut the unnecessary middleman.
Sometimes the safest place for a child is with the parent who truly cares, and the healthiest relationships are built on clear boundaries and mutual respect. The lesson is simple: love should lift you, not tether you to endless compromise.
