**”Mum, Don’t Marry Him”**
“Mum, Liam asked me to move in with him,” Emily began carefully after dinner.
“Where would you live?” her mother hesitated.
“He has his own flat. His dad bought it when he started uni.”
“Aren’t you rushing? You’ve got a whole year left. What if you get pregnant?” Mum turned off the tap, dried her hands on the tea towel, and faced Emily.
“I get it—you raised me alone, you’re scared I’ll repeat your mistakes, that you’ll be left all by yourself…” Emily couldn’t tell if Mum was against it or not.
“You’re old enough to make your own choices. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got someone.”
“I had a feeling. Why haven’t you said anything? Why haven’t I met him?” Emily pressed.
Mum dropped her gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe I was scared. The thing is… he’s younger than me.” She looked up.
“So what? That’s trendy now. So, you don’t mind?” Emily sprang up and hugged her.
At first, she called Mum daily, dropping by most evenings. She still had a key, but now she rang the bell. One day, the door swung open to reveal a handsome young man in a tight T-shirt that clung to his sculpted chest and arms.
“Your daughter’s here,” he flashed a perfect grin.
“Her daughter, not yours,” Emily muttered, brushing past him.
Mum was cooking, glowing, dressed differently—no more comfy dressing gowns. Now, she stood at the hob in white joggers and a cropped pink tee.
“James, we need a minute,” she said as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Got it. Girl talk.” He winked, dark eyes gleaming.
“Mum, he’s, what, fifteen years younger? You look great, but it’s obvious,” Emily whispered once he’d left.
“You said it yourself—it’s trendy.” Mum laughed.
Emily barely recognised her. Usually reserved, Mum now giggled like a schoolgirl, her eyes bright, her clothes all wrong.
“I see why you hid him. What’s next? Don’t tell me you’re marrying him.”
“What if I am? You disapprove?”
Emily opened her mouth, but Mum cut in.
“We haven’t talked about it yet. But I’ve never felt like this—like I’ve got wings. I’m happy!” Her smile turned guilty. “And you? Still good with Liam?”
“We’re fine. I should go—he’ll be wondering where I am.”
Emily walked home uneasy, feeling like an outsider in Mum’s flat.
“What’s wrong?” Liam asked when she arrived.
“Mum’s in love,” Emily said, peeling off her coat.
“And? She’s still young. Unless he’s a convict or something, what’s the issue?” He shrugged.
Emily gaped at him, betrayed.
“James is practically your age. Looks like a film star. Of course, she’s smitten—but him? He’s using her. No way he loves her.”
“Love’s blind. Or… jealous much? Fancy him yourself?” Liam teased.
“Stop it! I just don’t get what he wants with a woman her age. Plenty of girls would throw themselves at him.”
“Maybe he’s after the flat. Property’s always valuable.”
“But Mum said he hasn’t proposed. How’s he getting the flat? Unless he kills her—and me. I’m on the lease too.”
Liam groaned. “Em, I’m joking. Look, she’s in love. She’s smart—she’ll figure it out.”
“She’s not figuring anything out. That dopey grin? The teen clothes? He’s turning her into someone else.”
“To you, she’s just Mum. You don’t see her as a woman. Let her be happy.”
“But he’ll dump her. She’ll be heartbroken.”
“Would you like it if she forbade us being together? She let you go—return the favour.”
“Oh, easy for you—not your mum.”
“I don’t have one. If I did, I wouldn’t meddle.” His tone sharpened.
“Sorry.” Emily winced. Maybe he was right.
Days passed, uneasy. Emily decided to visit Mum again, digging for details. She’d found James’s socials—gym selfies, party pics, nothing substantial. This time, Mum answered the door too quickly, disappointment flitting across her face.
“You’re not happy to see me?”
“Of course. Just thought it was James.” Mum tugged at her oversized jumper, shivering.
“You’re pale. Are you sick?”
“Fine. Want tea?”
They sat in the kitchen. Mum was distracted, fumbling with cups. The kettle whistled; she jerked, twisting the hob dials wildly.
“Mum? What’s wrong?”
No answer. Mum poured tea but didn’t drink.
“Mum!”
“I’m fine. Just… I went to James’s gym. All these young girls there. He said I should… get a breast lift. And my face done.” Her voice was hollow.
“James said—? Mum, wake up! If a man nitpicks your looks, he doesn’t love you. It’s not worth the risk!”
“Stop. I don’t interfere in your life—don’t ruin mine. I love him. So what if he leaves me later? Your dad bolted. I raised you alone. James makes me feel wanted. You’ll understand when you’re my age. You love Liam—what if he asked you to change your looks?”
“That’s not fair. I just don’t want to lose you. Promise you’ll think it over?”
“What’s this, girls?” James strolled in, all charm.
Mum turned, simpering. Emily’s stomach turned.
“We lost track of time!” Mum trilled.
“I should go.” Emily fled.
Later, Liam listened as Emily ranted about the surgeries.
“Love’s like chickenpox—worse when you get it late. Let her have this.”
“What if she dies?”
“And what can we do? Forbid her? Or… hire a hitman?” He smirked.
“Not funny!”
Next day, Mum called from the hospital—prepped for surgery.
“Please call after,” Emily begged.
No call came. Emily rang—a nurse answered.
“She’s resting.”
But Emily’s gut churned. She dragged Liam to Mum’s flat.
No answer. Her key didn’t work. She kicked the door.
James finally opened it, shirtless.
“We were sleeping,” he lied.
“You pushed her into surgery, then had a nap? Let me in!” She shoved past.
A blonde girl lounged on the bare, grinning.
“Three’s a party.”
Emily whirled—Liam stood frozen beside a smirking James.
“I’ll call the police!” James blustered.
“Do it. This is my home. Get out!”
A neighbour—ex-military—peered in.
“Uncle Dave, call the police! This fraud’s brought some tart into Mum’s flat!”
James scrambled for his clothes. The girl whimpered.
“Kitten, you said—”
“Shut up and dress!” he snapped.
“Leave the key,” Emily spat.
Later, Mum called from the hospital, groggy.
“They removed the implants. It hurts… James isn’t answering—”
Emily swallowed fury. “He’s fine. Rest.”
Mum returned home, diminished. Emily showed her the blonde’s bra. The neighbour backed her up.
But Mum still begged James to take her back. He refused—”You and your crazy daughter? Done.”
The scars faded.
Uncle Dave started helping—fixing things, taking Mum walking. A widower, ten years older. With him, Mum settled back into herself.
Liam proposed. At their wedding, Emily tossed her bouquet—Uncle Dave leapt, caught it mid-air, and presented it to Mum.
She blushed.
Every woman dreams of love. Not every man makes her happy. Sometimes, the right one’s been there all along.
