Mum Wanted the Best
Emily sat silently at the kitchen table, watching as Veronica wielded the knife, chopping apples for a crumble while chattering away. Her mother-in-law had been staying with them for a month, and Emily was at her wit’s end. She loved her husband, James—their five years together had been happy—but lately, she’d started wondering if she’d made a mistake marrying a man so tied to his mother’s apron strings.
“Emily, dear, you’re not listening to a word I’m saying!” Veronica paused, lips pursed in disapproval. “I’ve been telling you—James should find a proper job. That little design firm of his isn’t serious! My friend Patricia owns a construction company, and she’s willing to take him on. Better pay, real prospects! He could be promoted within a year. And you wouldn’t even need to work.”
“Veronica,” Emily inhaled deeply, fighting irritation, “James chooses his own career. He’s a grown man.”
“Of course he is! But you’re his wife! You should guide him! All this sketching, these drawings—it’s not a man’s job!” her mother-in-law huffed.
“He’s an architect and a brilliant one,” Emily snapped. “And his firm is doing well. He loves his work.”
“Loves it?” Veronica threw up her hands. “What about money? That place pays a pittance! What about children? How will you afford to raise them?”
“We’re not planning for children yet,” Emily said quietly, though they’d had this conversation too many times. “And we have enough.”
“Not planning?” Veronica set down the knife and turned. “I knew it! Good Lord, what am I to do with you? Five years married and no babies! At your age, I was already raising James!”
Emily stayed silent. She did want children—desperately—but not yet. She’d just earned her PhD and secured a lectureship at the university. James supported her. Three more years—that’s all she needed to establish herself. Then they could start a family.
Mistaking her silence for agreement, Veronica pressed on. “Look at my friend’s daughter, Lucy—three children already! And her husband’s a real man, a builder. Proper house, proper income.”
“Veronica,” Emily forced calm into her voice, “James and I will decide what’s best for us. I respect you, but—”
“‘Decide for yourselves’? I’m his mother! I know what’s best!” Veronica scoffed. “You’re young, Emily. You don’t understand. A mother only wants what’s right.”
Emily shook her head and left the kitchen. Arguing was pointless. She climbed the stairs to their cozy two-story home—mortgaged but theirs—and sank onto the bed, exhausted. Between lectures, marking, and Veronica’s meddling, she was worn thin.
That evening, James came home tired but pleased. “Guess what? I’ve been made lead designer on the new luxury flats project!”
“Darling, that’s wonderful!” Emily kissed him, genuinely thrilled.
“James!” Veronica swooped in. “How much will they pay you?”
“Mum, it’s a fantastic opportunity,” James said, ignoring the question. “Great exposure.”
“But the salary!” she insisted. “What about the mortgage? Your car’s falling apart!”
“Mum,” James sighed, “we’re fine. I don’t need a new car.”
“But my friend’s boy—”
“I’m not her boy,” he cut in. “Let’s eat.”
Dinner was a lecture on responsibility. James stayed quiet, Emily seething. Later, alone in their room, she burst out: “I can’t take it anymore! Your mother won’t stop interfering! When is she leaving?”
“Ange, she means well,” James said. “You know how she is.”
“Weekends are one thing—but she’s been here a month! How long does it take to renovate a flat?”
“She wants it perfect. Just hold on a bit longer, yeah?”
The next morning, Veronica cornered Emily as she dressed for work.
“We need to talk,” she announced, perching on the bed.
“I’m running late—”
“This is important! You must quit your job.”
Emily froze. “What?”
“For a baby, of course! Time’s running out! I spoke to James—he wants children.”
“He told you that?” Emily’s pulse spiked.
“Not in so many words, but a mother knows.”
“We agreed—three more years,” Emily said firmly.
“Thirty-three is too old!” Veronica exclaimed. “I had him at twenty-two!”
“Times change,” Emily said, grabbing her bag. “I’ll talk to James tonight.”
At dinner, Veronica unveiled her surprise—a candlelit meal for a “family meeting.”
“Wonderful news!” she beamed. “Patricia’s offered James a managerial role—double his salary!”
James choked on his wine. “Mum, I’m not leaving my job.”
“But it’s an opportunity!” She pushed printed company details toward him.
“No.” He shoved them back.
“What about your future?” Veronica’s voice rose. “How will you afford children?”
“We don’t have any,” James said flatly.
“Not yet!” She glared at Emily. “But Emily’s quitting to start a family.”
“I am not!” Emily snapped.
“We agreed on three years,” James said firmly.
“Thirty-three is dangerous!” Veronica cried.
“Mum, enough,” James said quietly. “This is our life.”
Later, Emily whispered, “Do you want a baby now?”
“No,” he said. “But Mum won’t let go.”
The next night, James stormed in. “Someone rang my boss asking about my salary and prospects!”
They turned to Veronica, suddenly fascinated by the tablecloth.
“Mum?!”
“I needed to be sure they valued you!” she wailed.
“You rang my employer?” James was aghast.
“I’m your mother! There are no boundaries!”
“There are,” he said, jaw tight. “We decide our lives.”
Veronica burst into tears. “I only wanted the best!”
“We know,” James softened, hugging her. “But we need to make our own mistakes.”
The next morning, Veronica announced her flat was ready. As she left, she sighed, “I just wanted what was best.”
Emily smiled. “We know. But it’s our choice.”
Three years later, when their daughter was born, Veronica cradled her, tearful.
“She’s perfect,” she whispered. “You were right. This was your choice, and it was the right one.”
They’d learned—her love had been real, just misdirected. And in the end, they’d all found their way.