**First Impressions**
“Mum, this is Emily,” said Daniel, slightly flustered, introducing the girl he’d brought home late in the evening.
“Good evening,” replied Margaret, eyeing the unexpected guest with disapproval. “What perfect timing—just five minutes to midnight.”
“I told Danny it was too late,” Emily chimed in at once. “But does he ever listen? So stubborn!”
*Clever girl,* Margaret thought bitterly. *Saves herself and throws him under the bus. Unpleasant sort.*
“Well, come in,” she said stiffly before retreating to her bedroom without another word.
What else could she do? Throw her only son out in the middle of the night? Over some strange girl? If they wanted to live together, fine. A mother’s job was to protect her son—and open his eyes. And Margaret would do just that, quickly. Soon enough, Danny would send this Emily packing without a second thought. He might even thank her for it later.
The whole night, Margaret lay awake, plotting how to get rid of Emily.
It wasn’t that she objected to Daniel marrying. At thirty, he was more than ready for a family.
Just not with *her*.
For one, Emily was noticeably younger—still had her head in the clouds. What kind of wife—let alone mother—would she make?
Second, her lack of manners spoke volumes. Marching into someone else’s home at night without so much as an apology? Blaming *her* son, no less? And then staying over! Was this a habit of hers?
Third—and worst of all—Margaret simply didn’t like her.
So Daniel wouldn’t either. Why waste time?
No need for a plan, as it turned out. Emily handed her plenty of reasons to set things straight.
The first warning came that very morning.
Emily took a shower—an hour-long one. Daniel, meanwhile, paced helplessly around the flat, getting angrier by the minute.
“Darling, what’s wrong?” Margaret cooed—too sweetly. “She’s just freshening up, trying to look nice for you.”
“I have *work*!”
“Well, knock and remind her she’s not the only one here,” Margaret suggested.
“That’d be awkward,” Daniel muttered. “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 washed up yet!”
“Doesn’t matter. Eat while you can—you’ve got a long day ahead.”
Daniel reluctantly sat.
Just then, Emily emerged, a towel wrapped around her hair, looking absolutely radiant.
“Finally!” Daniel exclaimed, rushing to the fogged-up mirror. He splashed water on his face, shaved in record time, wolfed down one tiny pancake, and dashed out with a hurried, “See you tonight! Hope you two get along.”
“Daniel!” Emily called after him. “We were supposed to get my things today!”
“Tonight, love. Don’t miss me too much!” His voice echoed from the stairwell.
Margaret stood, shut the door behind him, then turned to Emily with a pointed stare.
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
“No,” Emily smiled. “Should I be?”
“Daniel’s going to be late because of you!”
“He’ll make it. Probably grab a taxi. Don’t worry—he’ll be fine.”
“Either way, remember—you’re not alone here. If you fancy hour-long showers, wake up earlier. Lucky for you, I’m off today.”
“It won’t happen again,” Emily said simply. “Sorry.”
Margaret faltered. She’d hoped for an argument. Instead—
“Fine,” she huffed, heading to the bathroom.
The first thing she noticed? A new tube of toothpaste, opened despite the old one still being half-full.
“Emily, why did you open a new tube?”
“I prefer this one.”
“Hope you’ll bring your own—and your *own* shampoo?”
“Of course, Margaret.”
“And towels!”
“I’ll bring them.”
No matter how Margaret tried to provoke her, Emily refused to bite. She agreed, nodded, “memorized” future rules.
Finally, too tired to dance around it, Margaret went straight for the kill.
“Why are you even here?”
“Daniel and I love each other.”
“Easy to love a man like him! What I don’t get is what *he* sees in *you*.”
“I never asked.”
“Who are your parents?”
“Mum’s a seamstress at a factory.”
“And your father?”
“Never met him.”
“Right. Fatherless. And you think you’ll make a good wife?”
“I’ll try.”
“Try all you want—it won’t work. Daniel doesn’t love you. He *thinks* he does. I *know* him! He’ll *never* marry you. Why would he? You’re already giving him everything.”
“He loves me,” Emily’s voice wavered. “I know he does.”
“You’re wrong. Think you’re his first?”
“I don’t care if I’m not.”
“You *don’t care*? He’ll be bored of you in a week! You’re not his equal. *Intellect*—ever heard of it?”
“I have a degree.”
“And what good’s that? Honestly, girl—go home. You don’t belong here.”
Emily’s eyes glistened. “Fine. What will you tell Daniel? He won’t like this.”
“Not your concern. Leave—and don’t come back.”
Margaret barely recognized herself. She’d never spoken so harshly to anyone. Yet the words kept spilling out.
Emily just stood there—*understanding*.
*She’s jealous,* the girl realized. *We’ve hardly met, and she already resents me. And it’s only going to get worse.*
The front door clicked. Daniel was back—far earlier than expected.
“Why so soon?” Margaret snapped, furious Emily hadn’t left yet.
“Got off early!” He beamed. “Told them I had family business.” He grinned at Emily. “*Family* business!”
“What *business*?” Margaret muttered.
“We’re handing in our notice today—then grabbing Emily’s things! Love, get ready!”
“Notice? *Already*?” Margaret’s heart lurched as she glanced at Emily. “I thought you were just living together!”
“No, Mum. You misunderstood. No point waiting.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t Emily tell you? Thought you two would’ve talked by now.”
“We did,” Emily said (Margaret’s stomach clenched—*here it comes*). “Just not about *this* yet.”
“Then *I’ll* tell her!” Daniel glowed. “Mum—congratulations! You’ll be a grandma soon!”
“*Will be*?” Emily corrected gently, resting a hand on her stomach. “Already am. Your grandson’s three months along.”
Margaret froze. No idea how to react. Be happy? She’d nearly kicked a pregnant woman out. Cry? Too dramatic. So she stayed silent.
“Mum… aren’t you pleased?” Daniel looked crushed. “You’ve been nagging me for grandkids!”
“I—I am, sweetheart,” she forced out. “It’s just… sudden.”
“I know. Took me a while too. Em, ready? Let’s go. We’ll celebrate tonight—yeah, Mum?”
“Yes. Of course.”
The moment the door shut behind them, Margaret burst into tears.
If asked *why*, she couldn’t say. Anger, hurt, fear—something deeper, weighing heavy on her heart.
***
They returned with hardly any belongings.
“Mum, we talked,” Daniel said. “Living under your roof isn’t right for starting a family.”
“Well, *that’s* new!” Margaret gasped.
“Wait—hear me out. We’ll rent nearby. You can visit anytime.” He smiled. “You’ll help with the baby, won’t you?”
Margaret understood. *Emily’s idea.*
Ridiculous. She had a three-bedroom flat! Why waste money?
*Fine—let them try,* she thought. *When it gets too hard, they’ll come back.*
The urge to get rid of Emily never crossed her mind again.
At least, not *Margaret’s*.
Emily, however, forgot nothing.
***
Their son arrived—the grandson Margaret had longed for.
Yet somehow, the dream felt hollow.
She’d seen him five times in his first year.
Emily never visited, never let her hold him. Never invited her over, never asked for help.
Daniel came regularly—always alone. “Emily won’t let him go,” he’d say.
“Pity you two never got on,” he sighed once. “Would’ve made things easier. When *did* this rift start? I can’t figure it out…”
