**The Obstacle to Happiness**
Emily had broken up with the boyfriend she once imagined a future with. His name was Oliver, and for nearly two years, they had shared a life under the same roof. But as time wore on, the truth became painfully clear—she couldn’t walk this path with him. His laziness grated on her last nerve: the mess in their flat, the endless excuses about work, the way he sprawled on the sofa mindlessly scrolling on his phone.
That evening, after an exhausting shift at the hospital, Emily made up her mind—enough was enough. The flat was its usual chaotic self. Oliver, unshaven and in a faded T-shirt, barely glanced up from his phone.
“Oliver, pack your things. We’re done,” she said, her voice steady.
“Have you lost it? What’s your problem now?” he snapped, scrambling upright.
“Everything. I’m done carrying you. Get out.”
“You’ll regret this. Where am I supposed to go at this hour?”
“Your parents’, wherever. Just not here.”
The door slammed behind him, his threats hanging in the air. Emily didn’t flinch. *When one door closes, another opens*, the saying echoed in her mind. Sinking onto the sofa, she exhaled—for the first time in too long, she felt light.
Her parents, especially her mother, were relieved.
“Finally, you kicked that layabout out,” her mother, Margaret, said pointedly. “You’re twenty-seven, love. Time to think about settling down.”
Emily knew it herself. Working in A&E wasn’t a walk in the park—every shift brought trauma cases, broken lives. She’d come home drained, only to face more chores, more complaints from Oliver.
After the breakup, life eased. A takeaway from the kebab shop, a shower, and sleep—no nagging, no drama.
Then, months later, Daniel walked into her life. He’d brought an injured friend to the hospital and noticed Emily instantly, struck by her quiet strength. His first attempt at conversation fell flat, but the next morning, he was there waiting for her. Tall, sandy-haired, with an easy smile—she liked him immediately.
From then on, things moved fast. He was kind, genuine, a good listener—helped his father run a transport business, made time for her.
A few months in, Emily introduced him to her parents. Margaret stiffened, her expression tightening.
“Hello. Come in,” she said coolly.
Over dinner, Emily’s father made conversation while her mother barely spoke. Daniel shifted uncomfortably; Emily felt lost.
Later, she learned the truth—Daniel’s mother, Susan, was Margaret’s old school friend, the one who had once stolen her boyfriend. Decades later, Margaret still seethed—never forgiving, never forgetting. The sight of Susan’s son twisted the knife in old wounds.
“Him or me,” Margaret declared.
But Emily chose love. She confessed everything to Daniel, who just shrugged.
“Our parents’ past isn’t ours. We live in the now.”
He told his mother, too. Susan only sighed.
“You’ve your own lives. I hold no grudges. Be happy.”
They married. Both families attended but kept to opposite sides of the room. Margaret never cracked a smile the entire evening; Susan, meanwhile, glowed with quiet joy.
Now, months later, Emily and Daniel have their own place, visiting both families—while the silence between their mothers remains.
“Maybe a grandchild will thaw things,” Daniel often said hopefully.
For now, they’re happy just the two of them. And recently, they’ve discovered—soon, their home will echo with the sound of a child’s laughter.
