“Why arent you opening the door?”
“I dont want to! And I wont. Guests should give notice before dropping by, and they certainly shouldnt go rummaging through drawers, fridges, or cupboards.”
“What do you mean, you wont? Thats my mother! Shes come to see *me*!”
“Well then, go greet her! But not in *my* house.”
Honestly, Sophie had always gotten along better with his mum.
“You know, if I started listing all the ways my ex was better than you, wed both be embarrassed.”
“Though Im not sure about myself,” Sophie interrupted sharply, rubbing at a stubborn mark on the kitchen table. “If you two were so perfect together, whyd you break up?”
James turned away, scowling out the window.
“Well you know the story.”
“I do. So spare me the tales of your precious Emily,” Sophie snapped. “Otherwise, Ill be your next ex.”
She wasnt bluffing. Shed reached her limit.
Sophie had met James nearly a year ago at a mutual friends gathering. Shed known Emilyvaguelybefore then. Emily had been the one to bring James along. Then, a few months later, shed vanished without a trace.
One tipsy evening, James had confessedthrough drunken tearsthat hed caught Emily cheating.
At the time, Sophie found it endearing. A man unafraid of emotion, heartbroken over love. Something in her had clickeda maternal urge to comfort him, to fix it.
She realized later that “something” wasnt attraction. But it had been enough to start their relationship.
At first, it was sweet. Hed pick her up from work, send daily texts, fuss over whether she was warm enough. She felt cherished.
Then Emily messaged her.
*”Hey. Heard youre seeing James. None of my business, but be careful. Him and his mum? Theyre a package deal.”*
Sophie brushed it off. Love conquered worse obstacles, surely. If things hadnt worked with one woman, that didnt mean theyd fail with another.
*”Thanks, but well figure it out ourselves,”* she replied, ending the conversation. It felt disloyal to entertain it.
James, however, had no such qualms about *her* comfort.
When his mother, Margaret, first showed up unannounced, Sophie tried to be understanding. Maybe they didnt realize how intrusive it was. Maybe Margaret just worried about her son.
Sophie sent James to greet her, threw on clothes, and stumbled outbleary-eyed and barely awaketo meet her potential mother-in-law. Margaret was already rifling through the living room drawers.
*”Ah, everythings a mess,”* she tutted, smiling indulgently. *”Soon youll have mismatched socks. Sophie, after breakfast, Ill teach you how to fold clothes properlyno wrinkles, no lost items.”*
No greeting, just criticism. Sophie was too stunned to protest. The invasion of privacy stung, but snapping back felt wrong.
*”Oh dear, those under-eye bags!”* Margaret clucked. *”You need cucumber slices. Or betterget your kidneys checked. My friends cousin”*
Sophie nodded, feigning interest, while dreaming of her abandoned bed. It was *eight a.m.* on a Saturday.
Margaret stayed until evening, dispensing *advice* on flower care, scrubbing techniques, and cutlery polishing. By the end, Sophie felt like a wrung-out dishrag. James never once stepped in.
*”Your mum is she always this lively?”* Sophie ventured that night.
*”Yeah? She just wants to bond,”* James shrugged. *”Emily and I lived with her before. Shes lonely now.”*
*”Were not moving in with her, right?”*
*”Whats the problem? You dont like my mum?”* James tensed. *”She and Emily got on fine.”*
Sophie bit her tongue. Emily had been eight years younger, a people-pleaser. Of *course* theyd gotten along.
But Sophie hadnt signed up to be Margarets protégé.
It escalated. Margaret returned the next weekend, inspecting the fridge.
*”Chicken eggs? I only cook quail for Jamesbetter for men,”* she declared. *”These shelves are grimy. You *eat* off these, Sophie.”*
(*”I dont lick the shelves,”* Sophie thought.)
*”Ill clean them later,”* she said tightly. *”We were hoping to relax today.”*
James, of course, was still asleep.
*”Relax? Weekends are for *cleaning*,”* Margaret announced. *”Fetch the sponge. Next week, Ill teach you Jamess favorite meat pie recipe. Hell love it!”*
Sophie crossed her arms. *”Margaret, maybe text before visiting? I might have plans.”*
*”Text? I cant visit my own son?”*
*”You can. But he lives with *me* now. A little consideration would be nice.”*
*”Emily never minded,”* Margaret sniffed.
*”My exs mother didnt barge in at dawn,”* Sophie retorted. *”She brought cherry pies. Delicious ones. Want the recipe?”*
Margarets face darkened. *”Sophie, mark my wordsthe nightingale wont outlast the lark.”*
She left, but the tension lingered. James remained oblivious, Margaret kept invading, and Emilys ghost haunted every argument.
*”Emilys cabbage rolls were better. Her mum taught her,”* James would muse.
*”Get *her* to teach you, then.”*
Sophie suspected Margaret was poisoning James against her, but discussing it felt futile.
A month of peace passedthen the doorbell rang early again. This time, Sophie didnt budge.
James stormed out minutes later.
*”Why wont you open the door?”*
*”I dont want to! Guests *knock first* and dont snoop!”*
*”Shes my *mother*!”*
*”Then greet her*outside*.”*
The row that followed probably woke the neighbors. James accused her of rejecting *him*; Margaret screeched through the door.
Finally, Sophie snapped.
*”Enough! Either you explain what *guest* means and send her home, or were done.”*
James chose the latter.
Sophie wasnt heartbroken. Theyd never married. Maybe it was for the best.
Months later, gossip reached herJames had a new girlfriend. A mutual friend smirked.
*”She moved in with him and Margaret. Already wants out. Asked to meet *you*.”*
*”Why?”*
*”According to Margaret, youre *perfect*gorgeous, strong-willed, a great cook.”*
*”Were talking about *Margaret*, right?”*
*”Seems she only likes ex-girlfriends,”* the friend laughed.
After that, Sophie listened a little closer to warnings. She still trusted her own judgmentbut she never ignored red flags again.
Especially with men who couldnt stop comparing her to their exesor untangle themselves from their mothers.
With those “mummys boys”? Happiness was never on the cards.
Because *she* would always come first.
Maybe thats how it should bebut within reason.
Agree? Disagree? Let me know your thoughts.
