**The In-Laws Came for the Weekend**
“Mum, have you lost your mind? What in-laws?” shouted Emily into the phone, nearly dropping it. “I’ve told you a hundred times—Henry and I are just dating!”
“Just dating? So it’s nothing serious?” Her mother’s voice was firm, lacking any hint of compromise. “Emily, you’re twenty-seven! Others your age are married with children, and you’re still playing around! His parents are decent, hardworking people—they’ve got a three-bed in Manchester…”
“Mum!” Emily squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off a headache. “Listen to me. I am NOT ready to get married. I do NOT want to discuss this with strangers. And most of all, you should’ve talked to me first!”
“Too late for that,” her mother snapped. “I’ve already called them. They’re arriving tomorrow morning. Henry knows, by the way. We spoke yesterday—he agreed.”
Emily sank onto the sofa. Henry had agreed… Of course he had. What did he have to lose? Living comfortably in his parents’ home, barely working—and now, a ready-made fiancée with her own flat and salary.
“Mum, maybe we cancel? Tell them I’m ill…”
“Sweetheart,” her mother’s tone softened, almost pleading. “Please, darling. I want grandchildren! What if something happens to me, and you’re left alone? Henry’s a good lad—doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke…”
“Doesn’t drink?” Emily scoffed. “He could barely stand two nights ago!”
“Oh, it was just a celebration!” her mother countered. “Fine, dear, be here by ten tomorrow. I’ve bought a chicken, I’ll order a cake…”
The line went dead. Emily sat motionless, staring blankly before abruptly pacing the room. She needed a plan—but what? Murder Henry? Disappear to her friend’s cottage till Monday?
Her phone rang again.
“Emily, it’s me,” Henry sounded sheepish. “Listen, your mum called last night…”
“You absolute snake!” Emily exhaled. “You could’ve warned me!”
“I thought she was joking! Seriously, who arranges marriages like this nowadays? Figured she’d forget…”
“When did you realise she wasn’t?”
“When my parents started picking out cakes,” he admitted. “Em, why don’t we just play along? Chat with them, smooth things over…”
“Henry, do you understand that after this farce, my mum will march me down the aisle at gunpoint? She’s probably already dress shopping!”
“So what?” An odd note crept into his voice. “Am I not good enough?”
Emily fell silent. There it was. She liked Henry—a lot. Tall, kind, handsome. But something was… missing. He never made decisions alone—always consulting his mum, even about which shirt to wear. Now even marriage wasn’t his idea.
“Henry,” she began carefully. “Do *you* want to marry me? Not your mum, not mine—you?”
“Course I do!” he said too quickly. “I mean… we know each other well…”
“That’s not an answer,” Emily sighed. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
All evening, she agonised over outfits. Too dressy—they’d assume consent. Too casual—her mum would lecture her. She settled on a grey trouser suit—polished but neutral.
The next morning, she resolved to cancel. She’d claim illness, a work emergency… But her mum wasn’t picking up—likely at the market, stocking up for lunch.
By 9:30, Emily stood frozen outside her parents’ house. A neighbour eyed her from a balcony.
“Emily! Come in already!” her mother called.
She was greeted by Mum in her best apron, conspiratorial glee in her eyes.
“Perfect timing! Help me set the table. I bought salmon for the starter, and caviar—not the expensive kind, but nice…”
“Mum—” Emily tried.
“Love the suit! So professional. Henry’s parents appreciate modesty…”
“You’ve *met* them?”
“At the GP’s! His mum, Margaret—lovely woman. We chatted for ages. She adores you—pretty, hardworking, owns a flat…”
Emily’s blood boiled. They were discussing her as if she were livestock!
“Mum, listen. I’m *not* ready to marry. Understand? Not now!”
“Not ready? Then why date him? It’s not right, Emily! Either commit or let him go!”
“We’re still figuring things out!”
“Six months is plenty of time! In my day, people decided in weeks!”
The doorbell cut her off. Mum flung off her apron, smoothed her hair, and beamed toward the hall. Emily gripped the counter, steadying herself.
“Welcome!” Mum trilled. “Here’s our bride!”
Henry entered with his parents—his dad, James, a burly man shifting awkwardly, and Margaret, who appraised Emily with cool scrutiny.
“Our future daughter-in-law!” Mum announced.
“Hello,” Emily mumbled, feeling like a display item.
Henry hovered behind them, guilt-ridden.
“Tea’s ready!” Mum chirped.
“Perhaps we talk first?” Margaret interjected. “Properly.”
In the lounge, Margaret fixed Emily with a piercing gaze.
“Emily, do you truly wish to marry my son?”
Emily faltered. She’d expected pressure—not this bluntness.
“I… we…”
“Margaret!” Mum cut in. “Of course she does!”
“That’s not her answer,” Margaret said coolly. “Dating and marrying differ. I’m asking the girl.”
Relief washed over Emily. Margaret wasn’t a fool—she *saw* this mess.
“Honestly? I don’t know. We’d never discussed marriage—until yesterday.”
Margaret turned to Mum. “You told me it was settled!”
“Well… I assumed…”
“Let us talk alone,” Henry finally spoke. James nodded approvingly.
Outside, they walked in silence.
“Emily,” Henry said at last. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Realised we’ve never actually talked about marriage. I’m ashamed it’s come to this.”
Emily stopped. “Henry. Do you *want* to marry me? Truthfully.”
“I do,” he whispered. “But… I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll say no. That I’m not enough. You’re so… *you*. And I’m just… boring.”
Emily laughed. “You idiot! You’re kind, steady—that’s priceless.”
“Then… marry me?” He took her hands.
“Are *you* asking? Not our mums—you?”
“I am. Emily, will you marry me? I’ll be a good husband.”
She studied his earnest face. No, he wasn’t Prince Charming. But he was real. And he loved her.
“Yes. But not tomorrow like they want. A ring, a proper proposal…”
“And our mums?”
“We’ll say yes. It’ll buy us time.”
Back inside, parents sipped tea contentedly.
“Well?” Margaret asked.
“We’re getting married,” Emily smiled.
“Autumn,” Henry added. “October.”
“Why so late?” Margaret frowned.
“Because we want it done right,” Emily said. “And there’s no rush.”
James nodded approvingly. “Good lass. A wedding takes planning.”
“Rings!” Margaret added—less forcefully now.
“Rings,” Henry agreed, gripping Emily’s hand.
The in-laws left that evening, bearing cake and homemade jam.
“Good people,” Mum sighed. “Henry comes from a nice family.”
“Mum,” Emily groaned. “Next time, *ask* me before inviting matchmakers.”
“Why? It all worked out!” Mum beamed. “You’re engaged!”
Emily shook her head, heading home. Mum wasn’t wrong—it *had* worked. The rest—well, love rarely follows a script.
**Lesson:** Sometimes, the messiest paths lead where you’re meant to be—but never let others write your story for you.
