**She Knows Best**
There had been another one. Emily.
The daughter of a family friendthe kind of girl Margaret had already mentally mapped out a future for with her son, Michael. Quiet, polite, well-mannered. An accountant at a respectable firm. Best of all, she *understood* the special bond between mother and son. Emily had even said once, «Margaret, Id always ask your adviceyou know him so well.» Such perfect words.
And then there was *Christina*. Impossible to find common ground with. Every offer of helphow to cook Michaels favourite shepherds pie, the right way to iron his shirtswas met with a polite but firm, «Thanks, but well manage.» That *we* cut Margaret to the quick. She was his *mother*! She *knew* best!
***
Christinas family wasnt exactly thrilled either. Nearly 30, living with her parents, raising her daughterof course she longed for love. Michael proposed moving in together almost instantly, barely a month after they met (though, initially, without her daughter). A few months later, he whisked her to the registry officehed finally found *the one*, ready to build a nest.
Christina was over the moon. This was *it*the blinding, all-consuming love shed dreamed of. When anyone dared suggest infatuation was clouding her judgment, that Michael wasnt marriage material, she bristled. She loved him *fiercely*. Shed warm him, make him happy, help him «spread his wings.»
A month before the wedding, she sat at her mums kitchen table. Her mother sipped tea, watching her with quiet sadness.
«Christina you know Michaels not the easiest, love?» she ventured.
«Mum, hes just *sensitive*!» Christina fired back. «No ones ever understood him. But *I* do.»
«Its not about understanding, love. Hes used to being coddled, living under his mums wing with no responsibility. Are you ready to carry *everything*? Him, his mum, *and* your daughter?»
«Hell detach from her once were a family! He just needs love and support. Ill give him that.»
Her sister, Victoria, was blunter. After an evening where Michael monologued about his grievances with his old boss without letting anyone else speak, she pulled Christina aside:
«Chris, your Michaels a full-blown narcissist. Do you *see* that? He doesnt notice peopleonly himself.»
«Hes just upset. You havent seen how sweet and funny he can be!»
«Youre romanticising him,» Victoria sighed. «Marriage isnt about sweetnessits about who takes the bins out and brings you tea when youre ill.»
Christina didnt listen. She assumed her family envied her whirlwind romance. Didnt believe in *true love*. And those first months with Michael *were* blisshardly any arguments, happy hours decorating their flat, experimenting with new recipes. Plus, his frequent business trips kept the magic alive with longing. So, she tuned out the naysayersincluding Margarets unsolicited advice. Thank *goodness* Michael had his own place.
***
If she couldve, Margaret wouldve forbidden the marriage. But it all happened too fasther boy was nearly 34, after all. Hopes that hed dump Christina like the others within months faded. Worse, the brides large, interfering family took over the wedding plans. Margaret refused to help. She was the *only* guest on the grooms side and smirked as the brides parents footed the bill for a lavish do. Watching the newlyweds, she noted Christinas adoring gaze. *This wont last*, she thought. *Shell tire of him. Michael could never live with her.*
Post-wedding, Christina brought her daughter home and threw herself into domestic bliss. Margaret lived across London but called and visited so often it grated. She criticised *everything*. Michael never stood up to hermaybe never learned how. And seeing Christina try to «reform» him made Margaret seethe.
When Michael lost his job, Margaret doubled downdaily calls, uninvited visits with pies, inspecting the fridge and cupboards.
«Oh, Michael, you *hate* striped socks. Christina, whyd you buy these?»
«Mum, *enough*,» hed grumblebut wore the socks she brought.
Christinas wake-up call was slow and painful. First, she *was* objectively worse at cooking and cleaning than Margaret. Second, she worked longer hours as Michaels «temporary» unemployment dragged on. He waited for a payout from his bankrupt firm, refusing to «lower himself» with job hunting. They lived on Christinas salary and her meagre savings.
Once, when money ran too low for groceries, he said breezily, «Just borrow from Mum till payday.»
She gaped.
«Michael, were *adults*. Maybe you could actually look for work?»
«You dont *believe* in me?» His face twisted. «I wont just take *any* job! What, you want me stacking shelves?»
Margaret seized every complaint, every sigh about Christina, and fanned the flames:
«She doesnt *understand* you, love. Never appreciated you. I *told* you. *Emily* would never do this.»
She painted a world where Michael was cherishedunlike Christinas world of «nagging» and baffling demands to *grow up*. Michael stayed silent, nodding when Margaret nitpicked unwashed dishes or sand in the hallway. Then hed snap at Christina: «Why cant you just *clean properly* so Mum doesnt complain?!»
Christina fought back, of course. Pleaded, reasoned. But she hit a wall. Michael obeyed Margaret. He *wanted* to lead his own familybut hed been raised to believe *Mums* word was law. She *knew best*. In a crisisno money, a rowhe fled to her. She *fixed* things. She *provided*. With her, he was safe. As for finances, Michael never strained himself. His guilt-ridden father had always bankrolled himfancy bikes, a motorbike, a car, even a flat by 30.
Even before the cheating came to light, Christina realised shed married a man-child doomed to eternal competition with his mum. So when she received *that* video, she didnt bother confronting him. She called her parents, packed her bags, and left.
Margaret was *relieved*. Finally, this farce of a marriage was over. Her boy was hers again.
Her first move? Comforting Michael:
«Men stray, love. *She* drove you to itno warmth at home. A happy man doesnt stray. Dont worry, darling. Mummys here. Well get back to normal. Ill cook, Ill clean and maybe Emily will visit. She always fancied you.»
***
Christina walked out decisivelybut she was shattered. In her family, divorce after two years felt like abject failure. She expected pleas to «work it out,» to «forgive.» But they never came.
Then came the real surprise.
When she called her mum, sobbing, «I cant do this. Im divorcing him,» the reply was simply: «Alright, love. Come home. Your rooms ready.»
That evening, as she spilled every detail, her mum listened without interruption.
«Divorce him, love,» she said softly. «Did Michael *ever* compromise for you?»
«Never, but youre not going to talk me out of it?»
«No. That man wont change. Youd be his lifelong nursemaid. Is that what you want?»
Her sister cheered: «Congratulations! Took you long enough.» Even her grandmamarried 55 yearsblessed the split. Her usually traditional dad slammed the table: «Good for you! No one should tolerate that.»
Thats when a *new* fury hit Christina. She stormed to her mum, primed for a fight.
«Why didnt you *stop* me?!» she screamed, tears choking her. «You *saw* him! At the wedding, *before* the wedding! Why didnt you *drag* me away?! Did you even *care* who I married?!»
Her mother looked at her, weary and loving.
«Christina, my darling. What wouldve changed? If Id knelt outside the registry office begging you not to marry himwould you have listened? Or would you have hated me forever, convinced Id ruined your happiness?»
Christina said nothing. She *wouldnt* have listened. They *had* warned hershed just assumed they were jealous.
«Sometimes the only way to learn is through your own mistakes,» her mum said gently. «We couldve *forced* you out of this. But youd have spent forever wondering what if, blaming us. Now? You *know*. For yourself. And that lesson stays with you. Its painfulbut its *yours*.»
Christina broke down. These werent just tears over a failed marriagebut *realisation*. They hadnt been indifferent. Theyd been *wise*. Theyd let her learn to see a *real* mannot a fairy tale. And that was priceless.
***
What do *you* think?
Its every familys impossible choice. And sometimes, the greatest act of love is letting gonot because you dont care, but because you care too much to stand in the way of someone elses truth.
