My mother is convinced that my girlfriend is only with me for the apartment.
I share a spacious threeroom flat in the bustling heart of Lyon with my mother. The place became ours after my parents divorcemy father left, abandoning everything. At first he kept up a semblance of contact, calling now and then to ask how I was doing, but over the years those calls grew scarce. Nowadays he only reaches out with cold, mechanical messages sent during holidays.
My mother, on the other hand, has never managed to rebuild her love life. A few men have crossed her path, but none ever got past two or three dates. Perhaps she didnt really want it, or perhaps she simply never found someone who could replace my father.
As for me, relationships have long felt like a minefield. Ive had dates and outings, but nothing ever turned serious. I never tried to cling to a relationship just to avoid being alone. If there wasnt that unique spark, I was honest about itwasting my time or someone elses felt pointless.
Then, one day, everything turned upside down in an unexpected whirlwind.
I met the love of my life
The moment I locked eyes with Camille, I instantly knew this was different. From the first seconds I felt a rare, powerful connection between us. I was drawn to her, burning with the desire to spend every free moment by her side.
Camille came to Lyon from a small Alpine village. She enrolled at the university and was fighting to carve out a new life in the big city. Shes ambitious, intelligent, gentle, and breathtakingly beautiful. We grew close at a breakneck pace, started dating, and for the first time I tasted pure, incandescent happiness.
But soon, that happiness became an open wound for my mother, an unbearable affront.
She rejected my choice violently
Ive always been honest with my mother. She knew every girl Id dated; I never hid anything from her. So when I mentioned Camille, I expected a routine reactionmaybe a hint of doubt, but also normal curiosity.
Instead, a storm erupted.
She wouldnt even listen. The moment I said Camille was from elsewhere, she cut me off, shouting that the girl was only with me for my status, my comfort, and above all, our apartment.
I was stunned, as if struck by lightning.
Where did such an idea come from? How could she judge so harshly someone shed never seen, never heard, never spoken to?
My mother locked herself into relentless hostility toward our relationship. She began staging scenes, screaming until her throat cracked, collapsing in tears, trying to hammer home that I was about to make the worst mistake of my life. In her view, I was merely an opportunity for Camillea way to settle in the citywho would eventually break my heart and discard me like an old rag.
I tried to defend myself, to explain that Camille had never hinted she wanted to live with me. She rents her own place, asks neither for money nor assistance. Shes an independent woman who relies only on herself.
But my mother remained immovable, as solid as a rock.
The pressure that crushed me
At first I tried to tune out her words. I trusted Camille; I knew she wasnt after the apartment. Yet, when the same accusations rain down day after day, doubt slowly seeps in like a slowacting poison.
I found myself listening to my mothers venomous whispers.
I dissected every gesture Camille made, hunting for hidden motives where none existed.
Why was she so caring? Could it be a ruse? Why did she bring me gifts? Was she plotting something in the shadows?
I felt myself teetering on the edge of madness.
Camille, of course, sensed that something was off. She asked if everything was okay, if something bad had happened. I wanted to spill everything, but shame froze me, squeezing my throat like an invisible hand.
How could I tell the woman I love that my own mother sees her as a heartless apartment hunter?
Love or family?
The clash with my mother reached an unbearable climax.
She gave me a cold, razorsharp ultimatum: either break up with Camille, or I could never have a normal relationship with her.
I was lost, standing at the brink, heart in tatters.
On one side stood my motherwho raised me, looked after me, and to whom I felt an overwhelming duty, an impossible debt.
On the otherdidnt I have the right to my own happiness? Didnt I deserve to love the person my heart had chosen in a desperate surge?
My mother refused to hear my pleas. Her certainty was a steel wall, impenetrable.
I realized I had to choose.
But which path?
Im haunted by a visceral fear of making the wrong decision. The thought of losing the one I love more than anything makes me tremble, yet Im not ready to cut ties with my mother.
Is she 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, ripped apart in an endless torment, and for now I have no idea how to get out of it.
