“Mum, don’t marry him.”
“Mum, Liam asked me to move in with him,” Emily began cautiously after dinner.
“And where will you live?” her mother hesitated before asking.
“He has his own flat. His father bought it when he started uni.”
“Aren’t you rushing things? There’s still a whole year left until graduation. What if you get pregnant?” Her mother turned off the tap, dried her hands, and faced Emily.
“I get it—you raised me alone, and you’re scared I’ll repeat your mistakes, 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 too.”
“I had a feeling. Why haven’t you ever mentioned him or introduced us?” Emily asked curiously.
“I don’t know,” her mother lowered her eyes. “I was scared, I suppose. The thing is… he’s younger than me.” She looked back up at Emily.
“So what? It’s trendy these days. So you don’t mind?” Emily jumped up and hugged her.
At first, she called her mum every day and dropped by often. She still had a key but always rang the bell now. One evening, a handsome young man answered—his snug T-shirt accentuating toned muscles.
“Your daughter’s here,” he said with a dazzling smile.
“Daughter? Not yours,” Emily muttered, pushing past him.
Her mum was cooking, glowing in a way Emily had never seen. Gone were the old housecoats; now she stood at the stove in sleek white joggers and a fitted pink tee.
“Max, we need to talk,” her mother said when he stepped into the kitchen.
“Got it. You girls catch up.” He flashed another smile before leaving.
“Mum, he’s at least fifteen years younger. You look amazing, but the gap’s obvious,” Emily whispered.
“You said yourself it’s trendy.” Her mum grinned.
Emily didn’t recognise her. Always so composed, now giggling like a schoolgirl. And those clothes…
“Right. That’s why you kept him a secret? What’s next—don’t tell me you’re marrying him?”
“What if I am? Would you object?”
Emily opened her mouth, but her mum cut in:
“We haven’t discussed it yet. I’ve never felt like this. It’s like I’ve grown wings. I’m so happy! And you? Still getting on with Liam?”
“We’re fine. I should go—he’s probably wondering where I am.”
Walking home upset, Emily felt like an outsider in her own mother’s flat.
“What’s wrong?” Liam asked when she returned.
“Guess what—Mum’s in love,” Emily said, peeling off her coat.
“Good for her. Or is he some crusty old bloke? Ex-con? If not, what’s the issue? She’s not lonely—that’s great.”
Emily glared at him like he’d betrayed her.
“Max is practically your age. Looks like a Hollywood actor. Mum’s smitten—fine. But him? He’s using her. No way he loves her.”
“Love’s blind. Or… jealous much? Fancy him yourself? Careful, I’m the jealous type. Might challenge him to a duel,” Liam teased.
Emily rolled her eyes. “Always with the jokes. I just don’t get what he wants with a woman her age. Plenty of young girls would throw themselves at him.”
“Maybe he’s genuine. Or scheming to rob her,” Liam quipped.
“We’re not rich. A thin gold chain, earrings, and a cubic zirconia ring—hardly worth the effort.”
“The flat then? Property’s always valuable.”
“But Mum said he hasn’t proposed. They’ve barely dated. How’s he getting the flat? By killing her? He’d have to kill me too—I’m on the lease.”
“Relax, Em, I’m messing with you. If she’s happy, let her be. She’s not stupid.”
“That’s the problem—she’s not thinking! You should see her grinning like an idiot. And the clothes? Teenage rubbish. He’s turning her into someone she’s not.”
“To you, she’s just Mum—you don’t see her as a woman. Don’t jump the gun. Let her enjoy this.”
“But he’ll dump her. She’ll be crushed.”
“Would you like it if she forbade us being together? She let you go—return the favour.”
“Wait till he breaks her heart or kills her? Easy for you—she’s not your mum.”
“But I don’t have a mum. If I did, I wouldn’t meddle,” Liam snapped.
“Sorry.” Emily bit her lip. Maybe he was right. What if it was real love?
They dropped it, but unease gnawed at her. Days later, Emily visited again, hoping to pry details about Max. She’d stalked his socials—gym selfies, party pics, nothing substantial. She rang the bell.
Her mum answered quickly but didn’t seem thrilled. Probably expecting Max.
“Not happy to see me?”
“Don’t be silly. Come in. Just thought it might be Max.” Her mother tugged at an oversized jumper like she was cold.
“You ill? You’re pale.”
“Stop fussing. Want dinner?”
“Tea’s fine. Where’s Max?” Emily feigned indifference.
“Still at work. Late shift at the gym—he’s a personal trainer.”
“Of course,” Emily thought. Aloud: “That’s where you met?”
Her mum seemed distracted, fumbling with cups. When the kettle screamed, she frantically twisted knobs on the hob.
“Mum? You okay?”
No answer. She poured tea but didn’t drink.
“Mum?!”
“Fine. Just… I went to his gym. These young girls there… Max said I should… get a breast lift. And my face done.” Her voice was hollow.
“Max said—? Wake up! If a man picks at your looks, he doesn’t love you. He’ll leave anyway. Why risk surgery? People die from botched jobs. Mum, stop this. What do you even know about him?”
“Enough. I don’t interfere in your life—don’t ruin mine. I love him. If he leaves later, so be it. What have I had? Your dad bolted. I raised you alone. Max makes me feel wanted. You’ll understand when you’re older. You love Liam—what if he asked you to change your body?”
“That’s not fair. I just don’t want to lose you. To me, you’re perfect. Promise you’ll think twice?”
“What’s all this, girls?” Max strode in, flashing that smile.
Her mum turned to him with a sickeningly eager grin. Emily’s stomach turned.
“Just catching up. I’ve got a seminar to prep for.” She edged past Max, hoping her mum would follow. She didn’t. Emily slammed the door.
“Love’s like chickenpox—worse when you get it late,” Liam said. “Let her have this.”
“What if she dies?” Emily flared.
“And what can we do? Hire a hitman?” He joked.
“I’m serious!”
“Em, sorry.” He nuzzled her cheek.
Calls to her mum kept getting cut short—Max was always there.
Then came the call: “They’re operating on my breasts tomorrow.”
“You’re home?” Emily held her breath.
“In hospital. The doctor’s done hundreds of these.”
Thank God it wasn’t her face. “Call me after, promise?”
All day, Emily paced. No word. Finally, a nurse answered: “She’s sleeping. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry?
“She’s fine. Chill,” Liam said.
“Something’s wrong. Let’s go to hers.”
“Why?”
“Mum’s in hospital. What’s a young stud doing alone? I’m going.”
He sighed and followed.
No one answered. Her key didn’t work—locked from inside. She kicked the door until Max opened it, bare-chested under a robe.
“Sleeping,” he said smoothly. “Olive’s in hospital.”
“You talked her into surgery and just napped? Let me in!” She shoved, but Liam wedged his foot in. As they struggled, Emily rammed the door, knocking Max back. She bolted inside.
A naked blonde lounged on the bed. “Third wheel? Ooh, two macho men?” She smirked.
“I’m calling the police!” Max blustered.
“Do it. This is my flat. You’re the trespasser!”
“We filed for marriage. I’ll be her husband soon.”
“Em, let’s go,” Liam urged.
“No way! A form isn’t a wedding. Get dressed!” Emily barked at the blonde.
NeighbourEmily’s mum, finally free of Max’s grip, found quiet happiness with the steady love of Uncle Walter, who had been waiting all along—proving that sometimes, the right person was there all the while, just unnoticed.
