First Impressions
“Mum, meet Emma,” Kyle said a bit shyly, introducing the girl he’d brought home late in the evening.
“Good evening,” replied Sarah, eyeing the unexpected guest with disapproval. “What perfect timing for introductions—just five minutes to midnight…”
“I told Kyle it was too late,” the girl chimed in smoothly. “But does he ever listen? So stubborn!”
“Oh, clever,” Sarah thought to herself. “Defends herself and throws him under the bus. Charming.”
“Well, come in,” she invited, then turned and walked to her bedroom without another word.
What else could she do? Throw her only son out in the middle of the night? Over some random girl? If they wanted to live together, fine. Mothers exist to protect their sons and open their eyes. And Sarah would do just that—swiftly. Kyle would send this Emma packing without a second thought, relieved to be rid of her.
She spent the whole night awake, plotting how to get Emma out of the flat.
Not that she was against Kyle marrying. At 30, he was more than ready for a family.
But not with her.
First, she was noticeably younger—probably still had her head in the clouds. Wife material? Mother material? Hardly.
Second, her manners spoke for themselves: waltzing into someone’s home at night, no apology, even blaming her beloved son for who-knows-what. And then spending the night? Was this a habit?
Third—Sarah just didn’t like her. Which meant Kyle would stop liking her too. Why waste time?
But the plan wasn’t needed.
Emma gave Sarah plenty of reasons to set things straight.
The first warning came that very morning.
Emma took a shower—for nearly an hour.
Kyle paced the flat, helpless, growing angrier by the minute.
“What’s wrong, love?” Sarah asked sweetly. “She’s just freshening up, wants to look nice for you…”
“I have work!”
“Then knock and remind her she’s not the only one here,” Sarah suggested.
“Awkward. I’ll talk to her later. Mum, you won’t be late, will you?”
“Me? No, I’ve been ready for ages. Made pancakes. Sit down and eat.”
“I haven’t even washed my face!”
“You’ll manage. Eat now—you’ll need the energy.”
Kyle sat down just as Emma emerged, towel on her head, looking lovely.
“Finally!” Kyle bolted to the foggy mirror, splashed water on his face, shaved at lightning speed, swallowed one small pancake, and dashed out, calling, “See you tonight! Hope you two get along.”
“Kyle!” Emma called after him. “We were supposed to pick up my things today.”
“We will—this evening! Don’t miss me too much!” His voice trailed from the stairwell.
Sarah shut the door behind him, turned to Emma, and asked bluntly:
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
“No,” Emma smiled. “Should I be?”
“Kyle’s going to be late because of you!”
“He won’t. He’ll grab a cab. Don’t worry.”
“Either way, remember—you’re not alone here. If you want an hour-long shower, wake up earlier. Lucky for you, it’s my day off.”
“I won’t do it again,” Emma said simply. “Sorry.”
Sarah was thrown. She’d hoped for a fight. Instead—
“Fine,” she muttered, heading to the bathroom.
The first thing she saw? A new tube of toothpaste, opened—despite the old one still having plenty left.
“Emma, why open a new one?”
“I prefer this one.”
“I hope you’ll bring your own—and your own shampoo?”
“Of course, Sarah.”
“And towels!”
“I will.”
No matter how Sarah prodded, Emma didn’t bite. She agreed, nodded, “remembered” her duties.
Finally, Sarah gave up subtlety.
“Why are you even here?”
“Kyle and I love each other.”
“Who wouldn’t love a man like him? But what does he see in you?”
“I never asked.”
“And your parents?”
“Mum’s a seamstress. Works at a factory.”
“And your father?”
“Never met him.”
“Figures. And how do you plan to be a good wife?”
“I’ll try.”
“Try all you want—it won’t work. My son doesn’t love you. It’s infatuation. And he’ll never marry you—why would he? You’re already giving him everything.”
“He does love me,” Emma’s voice trembled.
“Wishful thinking. You’re not even the first.”
“I know. Doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter? He’ll be bored of you in a week! You’re not his equal. Ever heard of intellect?”
“I have a degree, Sarah.”
“So? Point is—you don’t belong here. Leave.”
Emma stared at her, understanding.
Sarah was jealous. This wasn’t hate—it was just the beginning.
The door clicked open—Kyle was back early.
“Why so soon?” Sarah snapped, annoyed Emma was still there.
“I got off work!” Kyle beamed. “Told them I had family business. Hear that, Emma? Family!”
“What business?” Sarah grumbled.
“We’re submitting our notice today, then grabbing her things! Emma, get ready!”
“Notice? Already?” Sarah’s gaze darted to Emma. “I thought you were just moving in.”
“No, Mum, you misunderstood. No point waiting.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t Emma tell you? Thought you’d have chatted about everything by now.”
“We talked,” Emma said. (Sarah’s stomach dropped—here comes the complaint.) “Just not the big news yet.”
“I’ll tell her!” Kyle glowed. “Mum—you’re going to be a grandma!”
“Going to be?” Emma corrected gently, resting a hand on her stomach. “Already are. Your grandson’s three months along.”
Sarah froze. Joy? She’d nearly kicked a pregnant woman out. Tears? Wrong timing. She stood silent.
“Mum, aren’t you happy?” Kyle frowned. “You’ve nagged me for grandkids forever.”
“I-I am,” Sarah forced out. “Just… shocked.”
“I get it. Took me a while to process too. Emma, ready? Let’s go! We’ll celebrate tonight, yeah, Mum?”
“Yes, of course,” Sarah murmured.
The moment the door shut, she burst into tears.
If asked why, she couldn’t explain. Anger, resentment, fear, joy—all tangled into something heavy.
***
They brought back barely any of Emma’s things.
“Mum,” Kyle said seriously, “we’ve decided—starting married life under your roof isn’t right.”
“Oh, really?” Sarah gasped.
“Wait—hear me out. We’ll rent nearby. You can visit anytime. Once the baby’s here, it’ll be perfect. You’ll help, won’t you?”
Sarah knew—Emma had talked him into this. Ridiculous! She had a three-bedroom flat! Why waste money?
“Fine,” she thought. “Let them try. When they struggle, they’ll come back. They’ve no idea what a baby entails.”
The thought of getting rid of Emma never crossed her mind.
But Emma hadn’t forgotten a thing.
***
The baby came—a boy. Sarah’s longed-for grandson.
Her dream had come true. Just not the way she’d hoped.
She saw him maybe five times his first year.
Emma never visited, never let her take him. No invites, no requests for help.
Kyle visited often—but never with the baby. “Emma won’t let him out of her sight,” he’d say.
“Shame you two didn’t get along,” he’d sigh. “Would’ve made things easier. No clue what went wrong…”
