From the moment Olivia entered Daniel’s life, his mother, Margaret, knew—this woman would never truly be part of their family. In her eyes, Olivia was beneath her son, an unsophisticated girl from the countryside, completely unfit for the sophisticated life Daniel deserved. But no matter how much Margaret disapproved, Daniel was hopelessly in love.
It was a dagger straight to his mother’s heart. How could her intelligent, well-educated, and promising son make such a foolish choice? Was he blind? But Margaret wasn’t the type to sit back and accept fate. No—she was going to fight.
She would often say that Daniel had inherited his father’s naivety. A good man, but utterly clueless when it came to women.
To Margaret, Olivia was nothing—a nobody. A plain, unimpressive girl with no grace or refinement. Even her appearance irritated her mother-in-law: thin, lifeless hair, close-set eyes, a slightly crooked nose. And her figure? Those wide hips made Margaret wonder how she even managed to fit through the apartment door.
This was not a woman worthy of her son.
And what did she do for a living? A simple shop assistant! Selling makeup to other clueless women. That’s all she knew—how to count money and flutter her eyelashes at men.
Her background was even worse. Olivia’s mother was a farmer, living in a village surrounded by pigs and cows. Hygiene? Nonexistent. Cleanliness? A foreign concept. No wonder Olivia didn’t know how to keep a proper home. She was lazy, spending her days lounging on the couch, sipping tea, and watching mindless TV shows.
Her father? A criminal. Died in prison. Olivia never wanted to discuss her family with Margaret, and honestly, could she blame her? What could a girl like her possibly have in common with a woman like Margaret, who had spent her entire life building a respectable image?
And to make matters worse—Olivia was older than Daniel! What an absolute disgrace.
Daniel, on the other hand, was young, full of potential, with a bright future ahead. He was the kind of man any respectable mother would dream of for her daughter. But Olivia? She barely had to lift a finger, and Daniel ran straight into her trap. She knew exactly how to lure men in—it was written all over her cunning eyes.
Margaret watched this disaster unfold, and it made her physically ill.
She herself had lived a difficult life, but at least she had maintained her dignity. Her husband had become a drunkard soon after they married, drinking himself to death. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was a womanizer too. But Margaret endured it all—for Daniel’s sake. How many times had she packed her bags, ready to leave, only to see her little boy’s tear-streaked face and decide to stay?
And when her husband finally passed away, she could breathe. She and Daniel lived together in perfect harmony—sharing meals, discussing books, sipping tea in the evenings.
Then Olivia appeared.
And peace was replaced by chaos.
Fights became a daily occurrence. Daniel had never been one to go against his mother, but now he was caught between two relentless forces. His wife wept, his mother lectured, and he—he just didn’t know what to do.
His friends suggested he move out, start a life with Olivia away from his mother. And Daniel—poor, exhausted Daniel—was ready to do it. He had even prepared himself for his mother’s tears, for the inevitable speech about how he was abandoning her.
But when he finally mentioned it, Margaret collapsed.
Paramedics had to revive her.
That was the end of that idea.
Olivia, of course, was furious. But soon, the fights came to a halt—for one reason. She was pregnant.
Margaret had hoped they were on the verge of divorce, but instead, Olivia and Daniel were picking out a crib.
Yet, even with a baby on the way, nothing changed. The house became a battlefield, two rival queens fighting for the throne. Every word was an insult wrapped in forced politeness. Every glance was a declaration of war.
Margaret, of course, remained “civilized.” She never attacked Olivia directly. She just made sure Daniel got the message.
– Tell your wife her hands are useless. She shouldn’t even bother cooking—I have to throw her food away. Even stray dogs wouldn’t eat it.
And when Olivia saw her casserole sitting at the bottom of the trash can, the tears came. She packed her bags. Again.
Margaret locked herself in her bedroom while Olivia pounded on the door, demanding an explanation.
Then Margaret would call Daniel.
– If you don’t get rid of that hysterical woman, I swear, I will have a heart attack.
And Daniel—poor Daniel—would try to calm Olivia down. But she would claw at his face, sobbing that he was choosing his mother over their unborn child.
Then his mother would dramatically faint.
And, not to be outdone, Olivia would collapse against the wall, hand clutching her stomach.
And Daniel, caught between them, had no idea who to save first.
He was the villain in both their stories.
He had chosen the wrong wife.
He was a weak mama’s boy.
He had failed to buy a separate home.
He had failed to keep the peace.
Both women demanded loyalty.
– Either her, or me.
Every day, the same ultimatum.
Sometimes, there was a truce.
On those rare mornings, both women would kiss his cheek before he left for work. They would smile. They would wish him a good day.
On holidays, he had to buy them identical gifts to avoid another war.
And Olivia? She demanded receipts, checking every purchase.
If he spent a single cent more on his mother’s gift—she would go silent.
Then, without fail, the gift would come flying back at his face.
Margaret, delighted, would clap her hands.
And when Daniel entered her room, she would pull out her blood pressure monitor, sigh dramatically, and announce that she didn’t have much time left.
And so, life went on.
Nothing changed.
Sometimes, in his darkest moments, Daniel thought… maybe it was time for his mother to join his father.
Then guilt would claw at him.
Lately, his father appeared in his dreams more often.
Smirking.
Raising a glass.
– Come on, son. Have a drink.
And Daniel thought… maybe he should.
Just one drink.
To forget, even for a little while.
But no.
Daniel doesn’t drink.
