“Mum, don’t marry him.”
“Mum, Liam asked me to move in together,” Emma began cautiously after dinner.
“And where would you live?” her mother asked after a slight pause.
“He has his own flat. His dad bought it when he started uni.”
“Aren’t you rushing things? You’ve got a whole year left before graduation. What if you get pregnant?” Mum turned off the tap, dried her hands on a tea towel, and faced Emma.
“I get it—you raised me alone, you’re scared I’ll repeat your mistake, that you’ll end up completely alone…” Emma couldn’t tell if her mum was against it or not.
“You’re old enough to make your own choices. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a man in my life.”
“I had a feeling. Why haven’t you ever mentioned him or introduced us?” Emma asked, curious.
“I don’t know.” Mum lowered her eyes. “I suppose I was afraid. The thing is… he’s younger than me.” She met Emma’s gaze.
“So what? That’s trendy now. Does that mean you’re okay with it?” Emma jumped up and hugged her.
At first, she called her mum every day, often dropping by in the evenings. She still had a key but now rang the bell. One day, a handsome young man answered. His tight T-shirt emphasised his toned chest and arms.
“Your daughter’s here,” he said with a bright, white-toothed smile.
“Daughter, but not *yours*,” Emma muttered darkly, stepping inside.
Mum was cooking dinner. She looked different—prettier, dressed differently. Gone were the cosy dressing gowns; now she stood at the stove in white joggers and a fitted pink T-shirt.
“Jamie, we need to talk,” Mum said when he followed her into the kitchen.
“Got it. You girls chat,” he grinned, his dark eyes twinkling.
“Mum, he’s at least fifteen years younger. You look great, but the difference is obvious,” Emma whispered once he’d left.
“You just said it’s trendy,” Mum smiled.
Emma barely recognised her. Always reserved, now she giggled constantly, her eyes wild. And the teenage clothes…
“So that’s why you never introduced us? What’s next—don’t tell me you’re planning to marry him?” Emma said, bewildered.
“What if I am? Would you mind?”
Emma opened her mouth, but Mum cut her off.
“We haven’t discussed it yet. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I’ve grown wings. I’m so happy!” Mum smiled guiltily. “How about you? No fights with Liam?”
“No fights. I should go—he’s probably wondering where I am.”
Emma walked home upset, feeling like an outsider in her mum’s flat.
“What’s wrong?” Liam asked when she got back.
“Guess what—Mum’s in love,” Emma said, pulling off her coat.
“So? She’s still young. Or is he too old? Ugly? An ex-con? Otherwise, I don’t get the problem. It’s good she’s not alone,” Liam shrugged.
Emma stared at him like he’d betrayed her.
“Jamie’s practically your age. Looks like a Hollywood actor. It’s obvious why *she’s* into him—young, gorgeous. But him? He’s just using her. I don’t believe he loves her.”
“Love’s blind… Or are you jealous? Fancy him yourself? Careful, I’m possessive. I’ll challenge him to a duel,” Liam teased.
Emma rolled her eyes.
“Always with the stupid jokes. I’m not jealous. I just don’t get what he wants with an older woman. There are hundreds of younger girls out there.”
“Maybe he *does* love her. Or maybe he’s after her flat,” Liam joked.
“We’re not rich. Just a thin gold chain, earrings, and a cubic zirconia ring. Not worth scamming someone over.”
“The flat, then? Property’s always valuable.”
“But Mum said he hasn’t proposed. They haven’t been together long. How could he get the flat? Unless he kills her. And me—I’m on the lease too.”
“Relax, Em, I’m just messing around. So she’s in love. Doubt it’ll lead to marriage. Your mum’s smart—she knows what she’s doing.”
“That’s the *problem*. She doesn’t. You should’ve seen her ridiculous smile. And the clothes? Like a teenager’s. He’s turning her into this silly girl, and she’s *not* that.”
“To you, she’s just Mum—you don’t see her as a woman. Let her be happy for once.”
“But he’ll dump her. And she’ll be heartbroken.”
“Would you like it if she’d forbidden us to be together? She let you go—don’t ruin this for her.”
“Wait till he breaks her heart or *kills* her? Easy for you to say—she’s not *your* mum.”
“I *don’t* have a mum. If I did, I wouldn’t interfere.”
“Sorry.” Emma bit her lip. Maybe he was right. Why assume the worst? Maybe it *is* love.
They dropped it, but unease lingered. Days later, Emma visited again, hoping to learn more about Jamie. She found his social media—gym selfies, party pics, nothing revealing. She rang the bell.
Mum answered quickly but didn’t seem pleased. Probably expecting Jamie.
“Not happy to see me?”
“Of course I am. Come in. Just thought you were Jamie.” Mum hugged herself in an oversized jumper, shivering.
“You’re not ill? You look pale.”
“Don’t be silly. Want some food?”
“Just tea.”
“Where’s Jamie?” Emma feigned indifference.
“Still at work. Late training session—he’s a fitness instructor.”
*No surprise there.* “So that’s where you met?”
Mum wasn’t smiling today. Distracted, she fumbled with the cups. When the kettle whistled, she frantically twisted all the hob knobs.
“Mum? Are you okay?”
No reply. She poured tea but didn’t drink.
“Mum?!”
“Fine. It’s just… I went to his club. All these young girls training. Jamie said I should get a breast lift… and maybe Botox.”
“Jamie *said*—Mum, wake up! If a man nitpicks your looks, he doesn’t love you. He’ll leave eventually. Why go under the knife? What if something goes wrong? You’ve read those horror stories. Mum, *think*. You’re not a model. What do you even *know* about him?”
“Stop. I don’t interfere in *your* life—return the favour. I haven’t decided yet. I love him. Even if he leaves, let it be *later*. What have I had in life? Your dad left, never married me. I raised you alone, never lived for myself. Jamie makes me feel wanted. You’ll understand when you’re my age. Do you love Liam? What if he asked you to get lip fillers or a boob job?”
“That’s not fair. I just don’t want to lose you. To me, you’re perfect. Promise you won’t rush?”
“What’s all this, girls?” Jamie strode in, flashing a dazzling smile.
Mum turned to him with a pleading grin. Emma felt sick.
“We lost track of time,” Mum said.
“I should go. Seminar tomorrow.” Emma slipped past Jamie. She dressed, waiting for Mum to see her out—but she didn’t. Hurt, Emma slammed the door.
“Don’t interfere. Love’s like chickenpox—worse the later you catch it. Let your mum be happy,” Liam said when Emma told him about the surgery.
“What if she disfigures herself? Or *dies*?”
“What can we do? Forbid her? Or… hire a hitman,” Liam joked.
“I’m worried, and you’re *joking*? Never telling you anything again.”
“Em, sorry.” He nuzzled her cheek.
Emma called daily, but Mum was always “busy”—meaning Jamie was there—or cut her off.
Then Mum called: she’d had tests. Breast surgery tomorrow.
“You at home?”
“The hospital. The doctor said it’s safe—he’s done hundreds,” Mum said, forced cheer in her voice.
Emma was relieved it was just her breasts, not her face.
“Call me after, okay?”
All day, Emma was on edge. No word. Finally, a nurse answered Mum’s phone.
“She’s sleeping. Don’t worry.”
*How can I not?*
“She’s *sleeping*. Chill,” Liam said.
“I can’t. Let’s go to hers.”
“Why?”
“Mum’s in hospital. What’When they arrived, the door was locked, but the sound of a familiar laugh from inside made Emma freeze—then she turned the key with shaking hands, only to find Uncle Jack sitting calmly with Mum, their fingers entwined, and the first real peace she’d seen in her mother’s eyes.
