My mother is convinced that my girlfriend is only with me for the flat.
I live with my mother in a spacious three-bedroom apartment in the bustling heart of London. The place came to us after my parents divorcemy father left, abandoning everything to us. At first, he kept up a semblance of contact, calling now and then to check in, but over the years, those calls grew scarce. Now, he only reaches out with cold, perfunctory messages during the holidays.
My mother, on the other hand, never managed to rebuild her love life. A few men crossed her path, but none made it past two or three dates. Perhaps she didnt truly want it, or perhaps she simply never found someone who could replace my father.
As for me, relationships had long been treacherous ground. Id had dates, outings, but nothing serious ever took root. I never clung to a romance just to avoid being alone. If there wasnt that rare spark, I said so plainly. Wasting my time or someone elses made no sense to me.
Then, one day, everything turned upside down in an unexpected whirlwind.
I met the love of my life.
When my eyes first met Eleanors, I knew instantly this was different. From the very first moments, I felt a rare and powerful bond between us. I was lost in her, burning with the desire to spend every spare second by her side.
Eleanor had come to London from a small village in the Lake District. Shed enrolled at university and was fighting to build a new life in the city. She was ambitious, clever, kind, and breathtakingly beautiful. We grew close at lightning speed, began seeing each other, and for the first time, I tasted pure, radiant happiness.
But I soon discovered that this joy was, for my mother, an open woundan unbearable affront.
She rejected my choice with fury.
Id always been honest with my mother. She knew about every girl Id ever courted; Id never hidden a thing from her. So when I told her about Eleanor, I expected the usual reactionperhaps a touch of wariness, but also natural curiosity.
Instead, a storm broke loose.
She refused to even listen. The moment I mentioned Eleanor was from elsewhere, she cut me off, shouting that this girl was only with me for my status, my comfort, and, above all, our flat.
I was stunned, as if struck by lightning.
Where had such an idea come from? How could she judge someone so harshlysomeone shed never met, whose voice shed never heard, with whom shed never exchanged a single word?
My mother hardened into unrelenting hostility toward our relationship. She began making scenes, screaming until her voice cracked, collapsing in tears, hammering at me that I was about to make the worst mistake of my life. To her, I was nothing but an opportunity for Eleanora way to settle in the cityand she would shatter my heart before casting me aside like an old rag.
I tried to defend myself, to explain that Eleanor had never hinted at wanting to live with me. She had her own rented flat, never asked me for money or help. She was independent, used to relying only on herself.
But my mother wouldnt budge, immovable as stone.
The pressure that crushed me.
At first, I tried to shut out her words. I trusted Eleanor; I knew she wasnt with me for the flat. But when the same accusations are hurled at you day after day, doubt seeps in like slow poison.
I caught myself listening to my mothers venomous whispers.
I began dissecting Eleanors every gesture, searching for hidden motives where none existed.
Why was she so attentive? Was it a ruse? Why did she give me gifts? Was she plotting something in the shadows?
I drove myself to the edge of madness.
Eleanor, of course, noticed something was wrong. She asked if I was alright, if something terrible had happened. I wanted to confess everything, but shame choked me, tightening my throat like an invisible hand.
How could I tell the woman I loved that my own mother saw her as a heartless flat-hunter?
Love or family?
The conflict with my mother reached an unbearable climax.
She gave me an ultimatum, cold and sharp as a blade: either I ended things with Eleanor, or I could forget about having a normal relationship with her.
I was lost, teetering on the edge, my heart in tatters.
On one side stood my mother. Shed raised me, cared for me, and I felt an overwhelming duty toward hera debt I couldnt ignore.
But on the otherdont I have a right to my own happiness? Dont I deserve to love the one my heart has chosen in a desperate leap?
My mother refused to hear my pleas. Her certainty was a wall of steel, unbreakable.
I realized I had to make a choice.
But which one?
Im terrified of being wrong. I tremble at the thought of losing the one I love most, but Im not ready to sever ties with my mother.
What if shes simply afraid of ending up alone, abandoned in silence? Or does she truly see something that my love blinds me to?
Im torn between duty and passion, stretched to breaking point in endless torment. And for now, I dont know how to escape it.
