Mum, have you lost your mind completely?! What do you mean, in-laws?!” Emily shrieked into the phone, nearly dropping it. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Daniel and I are just dating!”
“And what, dating means it’s not serious?” Her mother’s voice was resolute, foreboding trouble. “Emily, you’re twenty-seven already! Girls your age are married with children, and you’re still playing around! His parents are lovely people, hardworking—they’ve got a three-bedroom house in Croydon…”
“Mum!” Emily squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away a brewing headache. “Listen to me carefully. I am NOT ready to get married. I do NOT want to discuss this with strangers. And above all, you should have talked to me first!”
“Too late for that now,” her mother snapped. “I’ve already called them—they’re coming tomorrow morning. Daniel knows, by the way. I spoke to him yesterday, and he agreed.”
Emily sank slowly onto the sofa. Daniel had agreed… Of course he had. What did he have to lose? Living comfortably in his parents’ house, working part-time, and now this—a ready-made fiancée with her own flat and salary.
“Mum, can we just… cancel? Tell them I’m sick—”
“Sweetheart,” her mother’s tone softened suddenly, almost pleading. “Try to understand, love. I want grandchildren! What if something happens to me and you’re left all alone? Daniel’s a good lad—doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke…”
“Doesn’t drink?” Emily scoffed. “He could barely stand two nights ago!”
“Oh, come on, it was a celebration!” her mother countered. “Alright, darling, be here by ten. I’ve got a chicken, I’ll order a cake…”
The line went dead. Emily sat frozen for a moment, staring blankly, then sprang up and paced the room. She had to do something—but what? Strangle Daniel? Her mother? Or maybe flee to her friend’s cottage till Monday?
The phone rang again.
“Em, it’s me,” Daniel’s voice was sheepish. “Listen, your mum called me yesterday…”
“You absolute rat!” Emily exhaled sharply. “You could’ve warned me!”
“I thought she was joking—honestly! Who arranges marriages through matchmakers these days? Figured she’d forget about it…”
“And when did you realise she wasn’t joking?”
“When my parents started picking out cakes,” he admitted. “Em, what if we just… play along? Sit through it, let them get it out of their system…”
“Daniel, do you *realise* that after this circus, my mother will march me down the aisle at gunpoint? She’s probably already dress-shopping!”
“So what?” There was an odd edge to his voice now. “Am I not good enough for you?”
Emily fell silent. There it was—the whole problem. She *liked* Daniel. Really liked him. Tall, handsome, kind. But there was something… missing. He never made decisions on his own—always consulting his mum, even about which shirt to wear on dates. And now, even marriage wasn’t his idea.
“Listen, Dan,” she said carefully. “Do *you* actually want to get married? To me, I mean?”
“Course I do!” he answered too quickly. “I mean… in principle… we know each other well…”
“That’s not an answer,” Emily sighed. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
All evening, she darted between outfits. Too fancy—they’d think she was onboard. Too plain—her mother would lecture her for a week about dressing properly for serious discussions. She settled on a grey trouser suit—smart, respectable.
By morning, Emily was determined to cancel. She’d call, say she was ill, or called away for work… But her phone stayed silent, and her mother didn’t pick up—already at the market, no doubt, buying delicacies.
At half nine, Emily stood frozen outside her parents’ house. A nosy neighbour watered balcony plants, peering down.
“Emily! Get inside already!” Her mother beckoned from the door in her best apron, conspiratorial. “Perfect timing—help me set the table. Look, I’ve got smoked salmon for starters! And I splurged on caviar—not Beluga, but decent…”
“Mum—” Emily tried to interject, but was already being steered to the kitchen.
“Love the suit! Very professional. Just right—Daniel’s parents prefer modest girls…”
“You’ve *met* them?”
“Of course!” her mother beamed. “Ran into his mum, Margaret, at the GP’s when Daniel needed a note. Lovely woman! We chatted for ages—she adores you. Said you’re beautiful, hardworking, own your flat…”
Emily’s blood boiled. They were discussing her as if she were livestock!
“Mum, listen—I am *not* ready to marry. Understand? I don’t want to!”
“Then why string the poor boy along?” her mother huffed. “You either let a man go or marry him!”
“We’re still getting to know each other!”
“Six months is *plenty* of time! In my day, people decided in a month!”
The doorbell cut her off. Her mother smoothed her hair and swept forward. Emily gripped the counter, steadying herself.
“Come in, come in! Here’s our bride-to-be!” Daniel’s parents entered—his father, Robert, a burly man with kind eyes, looked awkward; Margaret, sharp-eyed, appraised Emily instantly.
“Shall we talk properly first?” Margaret cut in, surprising everyone. “Emily, do you *truly* wish to marry my son?”
Emily faltered. She’d expected pressure, not bluntness.
“Margaret!” her mother protested. “Of course she does! They’ve been dating—”
“That’s not an answer,” Margaret said coolly. “Dating and marrying are different. I’m asking the girl.”
For the first time, Emily breathed easier.
“Honestly? I don’t know. We’d never discussed marriage… till yesterday.”
“Aha!” Margaret turned to Emily’s mother. “You told me everything was settled!”
“I—I thought—”
“Maybe we could talk alone?” Daniel interjected.
“Sensible!” Robert agreed. “Young people should decide. We’ll have tea.”
Outside, they walked in silence. Daniel finally spoke: “I barely slept last night. Realised we’ve never actually talked about marriage. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
Emily stopped. “Do you *want* to marry me? Really?”
“Yes,” 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… me.”
Emily burst out laughing.
“Daniel, you idiot! You’re kind, steady—that matters more than flashy rubbish.”
“Then… will you marry me?” He took her hands. “*I’m* asking. Not our mums. Me.”
She searched his earnest face. He wasn’t some fairy-tale prince—but he was *real*.
“Yes. But not tomorrow like they want. A proper engagement—a ring, a venue…”
“And our mothers?”
“We’ll say yes. They’ll back off.”
Back inside, the parents were demolishing Victoria sponge.
“Well?” Margaret asked.
“We’re getting married,” Emily said. “In October.”
“Why so *late*?” her mother wailed.
“Because we want to do it right,” Daniel said firmly.
Robert nodded approvingly. “Good lads. A wedding takes planning—dresses, venues…”
“Rings!” Margaret added, though her edge was gone.
“Rings,” Daniel agreed, squeezing Emily’s hand.
The “in-laws” left at dusk, laden with cake and homemade jam.
“Good people,” Emily’s mother sighed. “Daniel’s got a fine family.”
“Mum,” Emily groaned. “Next time, *ask me* before inviting matchmakers.”
“Why? It all worked out! Wedding’s on!”
Emily rolled her eyes. Maybe her mother was right—it *had* worked out. And if she and Daniel had needed meddling to figure it out… well, that hardly mattered now.
