Why wont you open the door?
Because I dont want to! Guests should call ahead, not rifle through my drawers, fridge, and cupboards.
What do you mean, you wont? Thats my mother! Shes here to see *me*!
Then *you* go and greet her! But not in *my* house.
Honestly, Emily got on much better with my mum.
You know, if I started listing all the ways my ex was better than you, wed both end up embarrassed.
Though Im not sure about myself, interrupted Charlotte, scrubbing the kitchen table nervously. If you and Emily were so happy, why did you break up?
James turned away, sulking, and glared out the window.
You know the story.
I do. So spare me the tales of your darling Emily, snapped Charlotte. Otherwise, Ill be your next ex.
She really was ready to take drastic measures.
Shed met James nearly a year ago at a mutual friends gathering. Shed even known Emily, though not wellit was Emily whod brought James along. Then, a few months later, Emily vanished without a trace.
One evening, after one too many pints, James admitted hed caught Emily cheating. Hed even shed a tear.
At the time, Charlotte found it endearinga man unafraid to show emotion, who valued love. Something clicked inside her, a urge to comfort and console.
Later, she realised that something had been maternal instinct, not romantic interest. But it was enough to spark a relationship.
It started beautifully. Hed meet her after work, drive her home, send sweet texts daily, and fuss over whether shed dressed warmly enough. Charlotte felt cherished.
The first red flag came when Emily messaged her.
Hey. Heard youre seeing James. None of my business, but be careful. He and his mum are a package deal.
Charlotte noted the warning but brushed it off. Love could overcome worse obstacles. Just because things went badly with one woman didnt mean history would repeat.
Thanks for the heads-up, but well figure it out.
She didnt want to engage furtherit felt disloyal to James.
James, however, showed no such concern for *her* comfort.
When his mother, Margaret, first dropped by unannounced, Charlotte stayed calm. Maybe they just didnt realise how awkward it was. Perhaps Margaret worried about her son and wanted to see who he was living with.
Charlotte sent James to greet his mother, hastily dressed, tied her hair in a messy ponytail, and stumbled out, bleary-eyed, to meet her potential mother-in-lawonly to find Margaret already rummaging through the living room drawers.
Goodness, everythings a jumble, Margaret tutted, smiling indulgently. Youll end up with mismatched socks. Charlotte, after breakfast, Ill show you how to fold clothes properlyno wrinkles, no lost items.
Not a hello in sight. Charlotte was stunned. A stranger casually rifling through her underwear in *her* home felt invasive. But snapping back at the start of a relationship seemed wrong, so she bit her tongue.
Oh dear, those under-eye bags! Margaret clucked sympathetically. You should try cucumber slices. Or better yet, get your kidneys checked. My friend Brenda had the same issue
Charlotte nodded, smiling tightly, pretending interest in tales of strangers ailments while longing to crawl back into bed. It was 8 AM on a *Saturday*. Shed stayed up late, planning to sleep in.
No such luck.
Margaret stayed until evening, dispensing unsolicited advice on watering plants, scrubbing bathtubs, and polishing cutleryeven making Charlotte practise. By the end, she felt drained. And not once did James intervene or hint they needed rest.
Your mums always this *enthusiastic*? Charlotte ventured that night.
She didnt mind close families but craved some boundaries.
Yeah. So? She just wants to bond, James shrugged. Emily and I lived with her beforeit was lively. Now shes lonely.
Please tell me we wont be a trio
Whats the problem? Youve got an issue with my mum? James tensed. *Emily* got on with her.
Charlotte stayed silent. Emily had been eight years younger, a people-pleaser who probably knew all of Margarets friends by name, flawlessly ironed sheets, and baked pies to her exact recipes.
But Charlotte hadnt signed up for that. Life had taught her: fewer meddlers, happier couples. James disagreed.
Mums sociable. Gets on with anyone.
*Just not everyone wants her to*, Charlotte nearly said.
It got worse. Margaret returned the next morning, inspecting the fridge.
Chicken eggs? I only ever used quail eggs for Jamesbetter for men, she declared. Shelves could be cleaner. You *eat* off these, Charlotte.
I dont lick the shelves, Charlotte thought.
Ill clean them later. Its our day off
James, of course, was still asleep.
Day off? Perfect for cooking and cleaning! Margaret said cheerfully. Fetch a sponge. Next weekend, Ill teach you to make Jamess favourite meat pie. Youll love it!
Charlotte folded her arms. She wasnt about to take orders in her own home.
Margaret, maybe text before visiting? So we can plan.
Text? I need *permission* to see my own son?
He lives with *me* now. Common courtesy.
Emily never minded, Margaret sniffed.
My exs mum never turned up at dawn, Charlotte retorted. She *did* bring cherry pies. Want the recipe?
Margarets face darkened. Wrinkles deepened. Fury flashed in her eyes.
Think carefully, dear. The nightingale wont outsing the lark in this family.
She left, but the tension lingered. James didnt see the issue. Margaret treated their home as hers. And Emilys ghost haunted every conversation.
Emilys stuffed cabbage was better. Her mum taught her, James mused once.
Get her to teach *you*, then.
She suspected Margaret would poison James against her but avoided the topic. She just wanted it gone.
The next month passed quietlyuntil the doorbell rang early again. This time, Charlotte refused to answer.
Rude? Maybe. But was it polite to ignore clear boundaries?
Five minutes later, a sleepy, irritated James emerged.
Why wont you open the door?
I dont want to! Guests warn first. And dont snoop.
Its my *mother*!
Then *you* greet her. Not in *my* house.
James exploded. Neighbours probably heard. He accused Charlotte of rejecting his motherand by extension, him. Margaret yelled through the door, demanding entry, calling repeatedly.
Finally, Charlotte snapped.
Enough! Either you explain what *guest* means and send her home, or were done.
He chose the latter.
Charlotte wasnt heartbroken. Theyd never even married. Perhaps it was for the best. A man glued to his exs memory *and* his overbearing mother? No thanks.
Months later, gossip reached her: James had a new girlfriend. A mutual friend filled her in.
She moved in with him *and* his mum. Already wants out. Asked to meet you.
Why?
Apparently, according to Margaret, youre the ideal woman. Beautiful, strong-willed, a great cook.
*Margaret* said that?
Seems she only likes the ones who escape James.
From then on, Charlotte listened more carefully to warnings. She kept her wits but stopped dismissing rumours outright.
And she became wary of men who couldnt let go of exesor their mothers.
Life with a mummys boy was doomedshed always come second. Family mattered, but not at the cost of sanity. Some lessons were worth learning the hard way.
