“Mum said youre not the right fit for us,” explained the groom, canceling the wedding.
“Have you ordered the flowers yet?” asked Margaret, glancing at her daughters to-do list in the notebook. “Florists get booked up fastwedding season and all.”
Margarets daughter, Emily, nodded without looking up from the wedding dress hanging on the mirror.
“Already done. White roses and lilies, just as we agreed.”
“Good girl. And the musicians? The bandleader from Sarahs weddingare they free?”
“Mum, everythings sorted,” Emily replied tiredly. “I told you yesterday.”
Margaret set the notebook aside and studied her daughter. Emily stood with her back turned, adjusting invisible folds in the dress, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away.
“Emily, love, why so glum? The weddings next week, and you look like youre at a funeral.”
“Just nerves, Mum. Thats all.”
“Perfectly normal. I was a wreck before my own wedding.”
Emily turned. Her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes.
“Did you ever regret marrying Dad?”
Margaret blinked. “Of course not. Your father was a good man. Wheres this coming from?”
“Just wondering if Im making the right choice. What if James and I are too different?”
“Dont be daft. James is lovely. Hardworking, doesnt drink, no wild nights out. His mothers respectable, he owns a flat. What more could you want?”
Emily turned back to the mirror, and her mother caught the sadness in her reflection.
“Mum how do you know if you really love someone?”
“Emily!” Margaret threw up her hands. “A week before the wedding, and now you ask? Of course you love him. Why else would you say yes?”
“I dont know. Maybe because its expected. Im twenty-eightall my friends are married.”
“Exactly. Time to settle down, start a family. You dont want to be left on the shelf.”
The doorbell interrupted them. Emily answered, and a moment later, James walked in, carrying a bouquet of carnations.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Margaret, lovely to see you.”
“Hello, son,” Margaret smiled. “Ready to become a husband?”
“Absolutely,” James said, slipping an arm around Emilys waist. “Right, love?”
Emily forced a smile. “Right.”
“Wheres your mother?” Margaret asked. “We were supposed to go over the final details today.”
James hesitated. “She isnt well. Sends her apologies.”
“Again?” Margaret frowned. “Strange. All week shes had headaches, high blood pressure…”
“Shes just anxious about the wedding.”
Emily watched James closely. Something was offhis gaze flickered, his fingers fidgeted.
“James, maybe we should visit your mum. See how shes doing.”
“No need,” he said quickly. “Shes resting. Best not disturb her.”
“Well, stay for tea, then,” Margaret offered. “I baked your favourite biscuits.”
“Thanks, but I cant. Important things to sort.”
He kissed Emily againhurriedly this timeand headed for the door.
“Wait,” Emily stopped him. “Ill walk with you. Need some air.”
“Not necessary. I drove.”
“Then drop me at the shops. I need groceries.”
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Outside, they climbed into his old car. Emily buckled in, watching him.
“James, whats going on? Youve been odd all day.”
“Just tired from work.”
“And your mumis she really ill?”
He didnt answer immediately, starting the engine and pulling away.
“Emily we need to talk.”
Her stomach tightened. “About what?”
“The wedding.”
“What about it?”
He pulled over, cut the engine, and turnedbut avoided her eyes.
“Mum said youre not the right fit for us,” he blurted out.
The words hit like ice. “What?”
“Shes against the wedding. Says were not suited.”
“James, I dont understand. Weve been together eighteen months. Everything was fine.”
“I dont know. She just thinks it.”
“And what do you think?”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “Mums usually right. Shes got more life experience.”
Emily stared at the man shed planned to spend her life with, barely recognising him.
“James, we love each other. Doesnt that matter more than your mums opinion?”
“Love” He waved a hand vaguely. “Pretty words. Real lifes different. Mum says youre too independent. Wont listen to me.”
“Where did she get that?”
“You earn more than me. Mum says wives like that dont respect their husbands.”
Rage simmered inside Emily. “So I should quit my job to please her?”
“Not quit. Maybe find something simpler. More time for family.”
“For familyor for waiting on your mum?”
James scowled. “Dont talk about her like that. She wants whats best.”
“For who? You or her?”
“Emily, you dont get it. Mum raised me aloneDad left when I was five. She sacrificed everything.”
“And now you have to sacrifice everything for her?”
“Shes my mother. I wont upset her.”
Looking at him, Emily saw the truth: a man whod never stand up for her, whod always choose his mothers approval over their happiness.
“James, what exactly does your mum dislike about me?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Says youre too proud. Dont take her advice.”
Emily remembered the nitpickingher cooking, her makeup, even how she ironed his shirts.
“And?”
“Says you dont want kids. Care more about your career.”
“I never said that!”
“You brushed it off when I mentioned starting a family right after the wedding.”
“I just wanted time for us first!”
“Mum says modern women are selfish. Only think about themselves.”
“And what do you think?”
Another shrug. “Shes usually right.”
“James, youre thirty-two. Cant you make your own decisions?”
“Of course I can. But why argue with Mum? She means well.”
Emily leaned back, closing her eyes. Memories flashedJames consulting his mother on everything, from holidays to the colour of his car. Shed mistaken control for care.
“So what now?” she asked quietly.
“Mum thinks we should postpone the wedding.”
“Postponeor cancel?”
“Cancel. For now.”
“For now?”
“Until you change.”
Emily opened her eyes. “You want me to become someone else?”
“Not someone else. Just more agreeable. Homely.”
“I see. And if I wont?”
James spread his hands. “Then were done.”
A weight lifted off Emilys shoulders.
“You know what? Your mums right. Were not suited.”
“Really?” He looked surprised. “Youre okay with this?”
“Absolutely. You need a wife wholl obey your mother. I need a man who makes his own choices.”
“But I do make choices!”
“After checking with Mummy first.”
“Dont say that. I respect my elders.”
“James, your mums three years younger than mine. Yet she thinks she gets to decide who you love.”
“She wants whats best for me.”
“She wants you to stay hers forever. Thats why she finds fault with every girl you date.”
“Thats not true!”
“How many serious relationships have you had before me?”
Silence.
“Four,” he admitted. “But”
“Let me guess,” Emily cut in. “Something was wrong with each. Too flighty, too serious, not pretty enough, pretty but dim.”
James gaped. “How did you?”
“Classic. Shell never let you go, so she picks them apart.”
“Mums not like that. She wants me happy.”
“On her terms. Yours dont matter.”
He started the car. “Ill take you home.”
They drove in silence. Emily stared out the window, thinking of cancelling bookings, returning the dress, explaining to guests.
Yet instead of despair, she felt relieflike dodging a bullet.
At her building, James stopped. “Emily, maybe think it over? Talk to Mum, explain”
“No, James. This is right. Were not right for each other.”
“But I love you!”
Emily shook her head. “No. You love the idea of being married. You dont really know me.”
“Weve been together eighteen months!”
“And in all that time, you never stood up for me. Never told your mum my opinion mattered. Never defended me when she criticised.”
“I hate conflict.”
“Exactly. You took the easy way outagreeing with her.”
She got
