She Knows Best
For Margaret Wilkins, that October when Michael married Emily was nothing short of a nightmare. She barely noticed the golden leaves or the crisp autumn air. All she saw was her boythe centre of her world, her pride and joyslipping away into the clutches of that… Emily.
Shed taken an instant dislike to her future daughter-in-law. Too self-assured, too opinionated. She looked people straight in the eye and never backed down. Worst of all, she had a child out of wedlock. What kind of woman did that make her? «Shes trapped my Michael,» Margaret fumed silently. «Now hell be raising another mans child.»
There had been another girl, of course. Charlotte.
Her best friends daughter. The one Margaret had already pictured as Michaels wife in her mindquiet, obedient, a sensible accountant with a steady job. Most importantly, Charlotte understood the unbreakable bond between mother and son. Shed even said once, «Margaret, Id always ask your adviceyou know him best.» Perfect words.
But Emily? Impossible. Every time Margaret offered guidancehow to make Michaels favourite shepherds pie, how to starch his shirtsEmily would smile politely and say, «Well manage, thanks.» That «we» cut deep. She was his *mother*. She knew best!
***
Emilys family wasnt thrilled either. At nearly thirty, shed been living with her parents, raising her daughter, and longing for love. Michael had proposed quicklyjust a month after they metthough hed insisted her little girl stay with her grandparents at first. By the third month, he was dragging her to the registry office, declaring hed finally found «the one.»
Emily was over the moon. This was the real thingthe kind of love shed dreamed of. When anyone warned her about rushing in, she dismissed them. She loved him fiercely, convinced she could heal his past hurts and help him flourish.
A month before the wedding, her mother sipped tea at the kitchen table, watching her with quiet worry.
«Emily, love… you do realise Michaels a bit… fragile?»
«Mum, hes just sensitive!» Emily shot back. «No ones ever understood him. But I do.»
«Its not about understanding, darling. Hes spent his life being coddled, never lifting a finger. Are you ready to carry him, his mother, *and* your daughter?»
«Hell grow up once were married! He just needs love.»
Her sister Sophie was blunter. After one visit where Michael spent the entire evening ranting about his old boss without letting anyone else speak, she pulled Emily aside.
«Chris, hes a complete narcissist. Cant you see that? He doesnt care about anyone but himself.»
«Hes just upset! You havent seen how sweet he can be.»
«Youre romanticising him,» Sophie sighed. «Marriage isnt about sweetnessits about who takes the bins out and brings you tea when youre ill.»
Emily ignored her. They barely argued in those early months. She adored setting up their home, cooking his favourite meals. And with him often away for work, absence only fuelled their passion. She dismissed the warningseven Margarets meddlingwith a shrug. At least they had their own flat.
***
Margaret wouldve forbidden the marriage if she could. But Michael was thirty-threeold enough to make his own mistakes. Shed hoped hed dump Emily like the others, but no such luck. The brides family even insisted on a lavish wedding. Margaret refused to help, attending only as Michaels sole guest. She watched Emilys lovestruck gaze and thought, *This wont last.*
After the wedding, Emily brought her daughter home, determined to build a life. But Margaret, living across London, called and visited constantlycriticising everything. Michael never stood up to her. Maybe he didnt know how.
When he lost his job, Margaret doubled down. Daily calls. Unannounced visits with scones, inspecting the fridge and cupboards.
«Michael, darling, you prefer white socks. Emily, why havent you bought any?»
«Mum, leave it,» hed mutterbut he wore the socks she brought.
Emilys awakening was slow and painful. She couldnt compete with Margarets cooking or cleaning. She worked longer hours as Michaels «temporary» unemployment stretched to six months. He waited for a payout from his bankrupt firm, refusing to «lower himself» with ordinary jobs. They survived on her salary and dwindling savings.
Once, when money ran too low for groceries, he said breezily, «Just borrow from Mum till payday.»
She froze.
«Michael, were *adults*. Maybe start job hunting?»
His face twisted. «You dont believe in me? I wont just take *any* job! Should I stack shelves at Tesco?»
Margaret seized every complaint, stoking the flames: «She doesnt understand you, son. *Charlotte* would never treat you like this.» She painted a fantasy world where Michael was cherishedunlike Emilys world of nagging and «growing up.» He nodded along, then snapped at Emily later: «Why cant you just clean properly so Mum wont complain?»
Emily fought back, but it was useless. Michael obeyed his mother. He wanted to be the man of the housebut Margaret had raised him to believe *her* word was law. In every crisis, he ran back to her. She fixed things. She *provided*. His father, guilt-ridden from the divorce, had bought him everythingbikes, cars, even this flat.
Before the affair came to light, Emily already knew: shed married a child, doomed to compete with his mother forever. So when someone sent her that damning video, she didnt confront him. She packed her bags and left.
Margaret was *relieved*. «That silly marriage is over. My boys come home.»
She coddled him: «Men stray when theyre unhappy at home. Dont worry, darling. Mums here. Ill cook, Ill clean… and maybe Charlotte will visit. She always liked you.»
***
Though shed walked out, Emily was shattered. In her family, divorce was rarea mark of failure. She expected pleas to reconcile, to «make it work.» But they never came.
What happened next stunned her.
When she called her mother, sobbing, «I cant do this. Im divorcing him,» the reply was simple: «Alright, love. Your rooms ready.»
That night, as Emily spilled every painful detail, her mother listenedthen said softly, «Divorce him, sweetheart. Has he ever put you first?»
«Never, but… youre not going to talk me out of it?»
«No. That man wont change. Do you want to nurse him forever?»
Her sister cheered: «Thank God! Im glad youre finally seeing sense.» Even her grandmother, married sixty years, blessed the decision. Her usually stern father slammed the table: «Good for you! No daughter of mine tolerates that nonsense.»
Then came a different anger. Emily confronted her mother, tears blazing:
«Why didnt you *stop* me?! You all saw what he was like! Why didnt you *drag* me away? Didnt you care?»
Her mother sighed, weary but tender.
«Emily, my lovewould it have changed anything? If Id begged you not to marry him, would you have listened? Or would you have hated me forever, convinced Id ruined your happiness?»
Emily had no answer. Of course she wouldnt have listened.
«Sometimes the only way to learn is to make the mistake yourself,» her mother said gently. «We couldve forced you. But then youd always wonder what if. Now you *know*. And that knowledge is yours forever.»
Emily weptnot just for the broken marriage, but for the truth. They hadnt been indifferent. Theyd been wise. Theyd let her fall so shed learn to see the man, not the fairy tale. And that lesson was priceless.
***
What do you think?
Its every familys hardest choice. Margaret, too, would sit alone one evening, staring at Michaels childhood photos, the flat silent but for the hum of the fridge he never learned to fix. For the first time, she wondered if keeping him close had ever truly set him free. And in that quiet, she felt not victory, but lossthe slow, cold ache of love that never learned to let go.
