“Mum, don’t marry him.”
“Mum, Oliver asked me to move in with him,” Emily said cautiously after dinner.
“And where will you live?” her mum asked after a brief pause.
“He has his own flat. His dad bought it when he started uni.”
“Aren’t you rushing? You’ve got a whole year left until graduation. What if you get pregnant?” Her mum turned off the tap, dried her hands on a tea towel, and faced Emily.
“I get it—you raised me alone, you’re scared I’ll make the same mistake, that you’ll end up completely alone…” Emily couldn’t tell if her mum was against it or not.
“You’re old enough to make your own choices. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got someone.”
“I had a feeling. Why didn’t you ever mention him or introduce us?” Emily asked, curious.
“I don’t know,” her mum admitted, avoiding her gaze. “I was afraid, I suppose. The thing is… he’s younger than me.” She finally met Emily’s eyes.
“So what? That’s trendy these days. Does that mean you’re okay with it?” Emily jumped up and hugged her.
At first, she called her mum every day, popping round in the evenings. She still had a key but knocked instead. One evening, a handsome young man answered the door, his fitted t-shirt showing off his toned arms and chest.
“Your daughter’s here,” he said with a dazzling white smile.
“Daughter, but not yours,” Emily muttered, stepping inside.
Her mum was cooking, looking different—brighter, dressed in white joggers and a pink cropped top instead of her usual comfy dressing gown.
“Liam, I need to talk to Emily,” her mum said when he entered the kitchen.
“Got it. You girls chat.” He grinned, flashing dark eyes before leaving.
“Mum, he’s at least fifteen years younger than you. You look great, but the difference is obvious,” Emily whispered as the door shut behind him.
“You said it yourself—it’s trendy these days.” Her mum smiled.
Emily barely recognised her. Always reserved, now she giggled like a teenager, eyes shining. And the clothes…
“Right. That’s why you never told me? What’s next—you’re not actually going to marry him, are you?” Emily asked, bewildered.
“What if I am? Would you mind?”
Emily opened her mouth, but her mum cut in.
“We haven’t talked about it yet. But I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I’ve grown wings. I’m so happy!” Her mum gave a guilty smile. “And you? No rows with Oliver?”
“No rows. Mum, I’d better go—he’ll wonder where I’ve got to.”
Leaving upset, Emily felt like an outsider in her own childhood home.
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked when she returned.
“Guess what? Mum’s in love,” Emily said, shrugging off her coat.
“So? She’s still young. Is he too old? Ugly? An ex-con? Otherwise, I don’t see the problem. She’s not alone—that’s good, right?”
Emily stared at him like he’d betrayed her.
“Liam’s practically your age. Looks like a Hollywood actor. She’s obviously smitten, but what’s in it for him? He’s just using her. I don’t buy he loves her.”
“Love’s blind. Or are you jealous? Maybe you fancy him?” Oliver teased. “Careful, I’m the jealous type.”
Emily rolled her eyes.
“Your jokes aren’t funny. I’m not jealous. I just don’t get why he’d want an older woman when there are hundreds of younger girls throwing themselves at him.”
“Maybe he does love her. Or maybe he’s after her flat,” Oliver joked.
“We’re not rich. Just a thin gold chain, some earrings, and a ring with a cubic zirconia. Not worth conning someone over.”
“What about the flat? Property’s always valuable.”
“But she said he hasn’t proposed. They’ve only been together a few months. How’s he getting the flat unless he kills her? And then he’d have to kill me too—I’m on the lease.”
“Relax, Em, I was just winding you up. She’s in love. Doubt it’ll last, but she’s not stupid—she knows what she’s doing.”
“That’s the problem—she doesn’t! You should see her dopey smile. And the clothes! He’s turning her into some teenybopper, but she’s not like that!”
“To you, she’s just Mum. You don’t see her as a woman. Let her be happy for now.”
“But he’ll dump her, and she’ll be heartbroken!”
“Would you like it if she forbade us being together? She let you go—don’t stand in her way.”
“Wait till he breaks her heart—or worse? Easy for you to say—she’s not your mum!”
“But I don’t have a mum.” Oliver’s tone sharpened. “If I did, I wouldn’t interfere.”
“Sorry.” Emily regretted her words.
Maybe he was right. Why assume the worst? Maybe it really was love.
They dropped it, but unease lingered. Days later, Emily visited again, hoping to learn more about Liam. She’d found his social media—tons of gym selfies, party pics, but no real info. Knocking this time, her mum answered quickly—disappointed, probably expecting Liam.
“You’re not happy to see me?”
“Don’t be silly. Come in. I just thought it was Liam.” Her mum hugged an oversized cardigan like she was cold.
“Are you ill? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Hungry? I’m making dinner.”
“Just tea.” Emily followed her to the kitchen. “Where’s Liam?”
“Still at work. Late training session—he’s a fitness instructor.”
“No surprise there,” Emily thought. Aloud: “So that’s where you met?”
Her mum seemed distracted, fumbling with teacups. When the kettle whistled, she frantically twisted all the cooker knobs.
“Mum, are you okay?”
Her mum didn’t answer, pouring tea but not drinking.
“Mum?!”
“Fine. Just… I went to Liam’s club. All these young girls there. And he said I should get a breast lift, that they’re sagging. And something about my face…” Her voice was distant.
“Liam said… Mum, wake up! If a man picks at your looks, he doesn’t love you. He’ll leave eventually—why go under the knife? What if something goes wrong? Women die from botched surgeries all the time!”
“Stop. I don’t interfere in your life—don’t interfere in mine. I haven’t decided. I love him. Let him leave later, but not now. Your dad ran off—never married me. I raised you alone, never thinking of myself. With Liam, I finally feel wanted. You’ll understand when you’re my age.”
“That’s not fair. I just don’t want to lose you. Promise me you won’t rush?”
“What’s all this, girls?” Liam strolled in, flashing that smile.
Her mum lit up, simpering. Emily felt sick.
“We lost track of time!”
“I should go. Seminar prep.” Emily bolted, slamming the door harder than necessary.
“Don’t interfere. Love’s like chickenpox—the later you get it, the worse it hits. Your mum’s unlucky. Let her be happy while she can,” Oliver said when Emily told him about the surgery.
“What if she disfigures herself—or dies?!”
“What can we do? Forbid her? Or… hire a hitman?”
“This isn’t funny!”
“Sorry.” He nuzzled her cheek.
Calls to her mum went unanswered—Liam was always there. Then her mum rang: she’d had tests—breast surgery tomorrow.
“Are you home?”
“At the clinic. The doctor does these all the time—no risk!”
Relieved it wasn’t her face, Emily made her promise to call post-op.
All day, no call. Finally, a nurse answered: “She’s resting.”
But how could she not worry?
“She’s asleep. Stop panicking,” Oliver scolded.
“My gut says something’s wrong. Let’s go to hers.”
“Why?”
“Mum’s in hospital—what’s a fit bloke doing alone? I want to catch him out.”
Grumbling, Oliver followed.
No answer. Emily tried her key—deadlocked. She kicked the door. Liam finally opened it, shirtless under a robe. Emily gaped. Oliver shoved past.
“Took you long enough.”
“Was asleep. What do you want? Olivia’s at the clinic.”
“You talked her into surgery, then nap like nothing’s wrong? LetEmily stormed past him into the flat, only to find a half-dressed blonde giggling on her mum’s bed, while Liam—flushed with guilt—scrambled for excuses, revealing the truth of his character at last.
