When Oliver told his parents he wanted to introduce them to his girlfriend, they were overjoyed.
Olivers mother and father had long accepted that their son would one day leave to start his own family. After all, he was nearly twenty-fivea sensible age to settle down.
Though Oliver still lived at home, it wasnt out of dependence or lack of funds. He had been saving for his own place, unwilling to rush into a mortgage. His parents supported him. They lived comfortably in a spacious flat, never intruding on each others lives. They never demanded explanations if he came home late or asked where hed been.
Oliver wasnt the sort to take things for granted either. He never expected meals cooked or laundry done. Everyone lived harmoniously, and hed managed to save a fair sum. And now, there was Charlottethe first girl hed ever wanted his parents to meet.
“What should I make for lunch?” his mother asked. “What does your Charlotte like?”
“Nothing fancy, Mum. Shes careful about her figure,” Oliver said with a smile. “Never eats fried or fatty food, and doesnt touch alcohol.”
“Well, thats commendable,” his mother replied. “Ill prepare something light.”
Charlotte charmed themintelligent, well-spoken, and polite. Though she hardly ate anything, Olivers mother was slightly irked when she refused even a bite of the dessert shed prepared. Charlotte insisted sugar was poison and that everyone should reconsider their habits.
She also casually remarked that the sofa upholstery needed replacing.
“Your home is lovely, but the cat has scratched the sofa. Its not expensiveI can give you the number of a good upholsterer.”
There was nothing wrong with the comment, but until then, Olivers mother hadnt considered it an issue. The sofa had only a few faint marks from when their cat, Whiskers, was a kitten. Hed learned quickly not to scratch. Unless you looked closely, the marks were barely noticeable.
But after Charlotte left, Olivers mother kept staring at the sofa. Those tiny scratches suddenly seemed glaring.
Still, Charlotte was pleasant and kind. She thanked them for their hospitality, and Olivers parents agreed her remarks came from good intentions. Dietary choices were personal, after allno need to force anyone.
Over the next few months, Oliver and Charlotte grew closer. She visited a few more times, always politely declining any elaborate meals.
Then Oliver sat his parents down.
“Mum, Dad, Id like to move in with Charlotte. I love her, and we want to take this seriously.”
His parents exchanged glances. It felt quick, but they knew it wasnt their decision.
“I understand it might be awkward if I bring her here. So Im getting a mortgage. Ive saved half alreadythe payments wont be too steep.”
“Well, if thats what you want,” his mother said.
“It is. But the flat needs some work. Can we stay with you while its done? Just a month, no longer.”
“Of course, love,” his mother agreed, genuinely meaning it. She liked Charlotte.
Soon, Charlotte moved in. They welcomed her warmly, assuring her to make herself at home.
But that was just politenessa way to put a guest at ease. Charlotte took it literally. And that became a problem.
A few days in, Olivers mother searched for the sunflower oil while preparing dinner.
“Charlotte, have you seen the oil?”
“Oh, I threw it out,” Charlotte replied brightly.
“Why?”
“I thought itd be better if we all ate healthier. Honestly, the smell of fried food makes me queasy.”
Olivers mother sighed. Perhaps she had a point, but they were set in their ways. Her husband adored her homemade steak pies, and the whole family loved roast potatoes.
“Charlotte, were used to certain meals. I wont force you to eat what I cook, but please dont force us to change either.”
“Sorry, I didnt mean to,” Charlotte murmured. “I just care about health.”
Olivers mother felt uneasy.
“Thats admirable. But we are who we are. No need to change us.”
“Alright, I understand.”
She bought new oil, but now, every time she cooked, guilt gnawed at heras if she were doing something wrong.
It was only the beginning. When Olivers mother returned from work to find the living room curtains replaced with thin grey ones, she froze.
“Where are my curtains?”
“Oh, they were terribly outdated. Ive hung these insteadyou can keep them. Doesnt it feel fresher?”
No, it felt dull and lifeless.
“Charlotte, I liked the old ones. Where are they? Please tell me you didnt throw them away.”
“I kept them,” Charlotte said breezily. “But I thought youd prefer these.”
“Theyre not my taste,” Olivers mother said gently. “Please take them back.”
Later, she noticed some plates were missing from the cupboard.
“They were mismatched,” Charlotte explained. “Ive ordered a new setits nicer for guests. Oh, and Ive booked someone to reupholster your sofa. I chose a lovely fabricIve got an eye for these things.”
Olivers mother seethed silently. She didnt want conflict, but Charlottes “improvements” were exhausting.
“Charlotte,” she said carefully, “I know you mean well. But this is our home. Oliver and you will have your own soon. Please dont change anything else without asking.”
“I only wanted to help,” Charlotte said quietly.
“I know. But leave it be. Cancel the upholsterer.”
Charlotte was upset. That evening, she told Oliver no one appreciated her efforts.
But he didnt take her side.
“Charlotte, its their home. You wouldnt like it if someone changed yours without asking.”
“If it was an improvement, Id be thrilled!”
“Improvement is subjective. Whats good for you isnt for them.”
Charlotte sulked but dropped the argument.
Olivers mother found herself counting the days until they left. Shed always thought she could get along with anyoneshe wasnt confrontational. But she hadnt expected friction from someone so well-intentioned.
Charlotte stopped replacing things but took to tidying obsessively, announcing every “improvement” with a backhanded compliment.
“Just cleaned under the sinkyoud never touched it, had you? All sorted now!”
“Thanks, Charlotte.”
“Spent all day on the storage cupboard. Hope you dont mind I threw out some old junkprobably from Olivers childhood.”
“Thats fine.”
“Had to move the sofaso much cat hair underneath! Youll need to sort that when we leave. Terrible for allergies.”
“Right.”
Olivers mother bit her tongue, waiting for the day theyd move out.
When the time came, Charlotte hugged her warmly.
“Thank you for having me. I loved staying here.”
“So did I,” Olivers mother replied with a tight smile.
Once the door closed, she exhaled and looked at her husband.
“Shes a good girl,” she said. “Just young.”
“Life will teach her,” he chuckled. “And to be fair, she did tidy up nicely.”
“True. Though well need new platesand your hats gone. She thought it was outdated.”
“Been telling you I need a new style,” he grinned.
In truth, their relationship with Charlotte remained cordialjust from a distance. Olivers mother had learned her lesson: peace was worth more than perfection.
