Dear Diary,
Im writing this on a rainy Thursday in Manchester, trying to make sense of the mess that unfolded with Emily and my family. It all began when my mother, Mrs. Clarke, hurriedly tried to smooth things over after Id snapped at Emily, calling her sweetheart in a tone that sounded more like an apology than a reprimand. Sorry, love, for the harsh words, she said, hoping perhaps Id drop by sometime. My brother Jamie was still on his own after his split with his girlfriend, buried in video games and never moving beyond the screen.
Emily and I had been together for almost two years. To me, the relationship seemed serious; I often visited my parents house, where Emily was always welcomed politely, though never with genuine warmth. I believed we had a solid future. Though I was a bit carefree, I tried to keep a steady course and show ambition.
Our idyll shattered when I flunked a crucial English exam. It was a direct result of my neglect: during the lockdown I spent countless hours glued to my console, abandoning my studies. The threat of being expelled loomed over me.
In the middle of that crisis, Emily lost her temper and said to my mother, I dont want a man who achieves nothing. I need a selfsufficient partner. Im not going to be anyones housekeeper; we should share the chores and the earnings!
Her words hung in the air, instantly casting doubt over our plans.
My mother took it as a personal affront. Shed spent her whole life caring for my father and me, believing her role was to look after us, not to demand results. Now she expected Emily to behave exactly as she had always done.
Honestly! she exclaimed, A womans first duty is to keep the hearth warm! A man is the head of the household! Emily stayed silent, not wanting to fuel the argument. From then on, the door was often closed in her face. Our communication dwindled to secret texts, occasional calls, and brief meetings in neutral cafés. I suffered from not being able to see her, but instead of being honest I resorted to manipulation.
Emily, we need to talk to my mother, I urged over the phone. You have to explain that you dont really feel that way. Im tired of hiding! Can we make peace with my parents?
She snapped back, Why should I prove anything to your mother? She didnt raise me. This is your problem, not mine. Why should I bend?
I pleaded, Because you love me and I love you. Its the only way to fix things. If you dont, well lose each other forever.
With a heavy heart, Emily agreedshe was willing to take the humiliating step of confronting my mother for loves sake.
The encounter went far from her expectations.
When Emily arrived, I let her into the hallway. Just then my father, Mr. Clarke, descended the stairs.
James, whats this girl doing here? he demanded sharply.
I was caught offguard. Emily felt her face go pale. His question made it sound as if she were a stranger, not my partner.
Dad, Emily, we were trying I began, but he cut me off.
I see who she is. Shes out! He gestured for her to leave.
My mother emerged from the living room, shouting, Whos making all that noise? Jamie, whos with you?
My father, ignoring Emily, threw another jab, The very one who taught you how to live.
Emily realised she was not welcome. Humiliation and anger drove her to act on instinct.
Im leaving, you stay here, you pathetic, pamperedbymum lad! she hissed, storming out and slamming the door behind her.
I was stunned and didnt even try to stop her.
As soon as she stepped onto the pavement, her phone rang. My voice came through, not repentant but furious.
What did you say?! You ruined everything! I shouted.
What did I ruin? Your father just treated me like a callgirl! she retorted.
It doesnt matter who he put me where! You caused a scene! Now my mothers furious and my father says we must never see each other again! I spat.
Then came the final blow: And the worst part? I wont be allowed near my computer any more.
Emilys hurt turned into cold resolve.
Youre blaming me because you cant play your games? Your familys problems are yours to sort out, not mine. You should have dealt with them yourself, not made me the scapegoat.
It was clear I hadnt changed. I remained an immature lad, looking for someone to blame, never standing up for her.
I cant put up with this any longer, James. Its over. Emily said firmly.
She blocked me everywhere. The breakup was abrupt but necessary. His familys burden was his to bear, not hers.
A year later, Emily had recovered and started a new chapter. Shed been dating a new man for three months, and they were already talking about marriage.
One afternoon she ran into Mrs. Clarke at a supermarket.
Emily! My dear, hello! my mother exclaimed, rushing over.
Emily, startled, managed, Hello
Mrs. Clarke embraced her and bombarded her with questions.
How long has it been since we last saw each other? How are you? Hows life? Its terrible you and James split. Hes gone round the bend with his games! He wont work, always glued to his PC. When you were together he seemed so responsible Come visit us sometime!
Emily politely replied, Im sorry, Mrs. Clarke, Im busy. Work, home
Mrs. Clarke noticed a ring on Emilys hand.
Whats that? Are you married?
No, were only engaged. Well have the wedding this summer.
The former motherinlaws smile faded instantly.
So thats why! Good thing James left you! We dont need someone like you! she muttered.
Emily shrugged and turned away toward the shelves. In a twisted way, Mrs. Clarke was right: it was better that James had walked away, though it was a pity shed wasted time on him.
Looking back, I see that trying to force someone elses expectations onto a relationship only fuels resentment. I learned that true partnership requires mutual respect, not the imposition of outdated roles. My own failure to stand up for Emily taught me that silence in the face of injustice only deepens the wound. From now on Ill strive to listen, to share responsibilities honestly, and to let love be built on equality rather than tradition.
James.
