My mother is convinced that my girlfriend is only staying with me for the apartment.
I share a spacious threeroom flat in the lively heart of Lyon with my mother. The place became ours after my parents divorcedmy father left, abandoning everything. At first he kept up a thin thread of contact, calling now and then to check on me, but over the years those calls grew scarce. Nowadays he only reaches out with cold, mechanical messages sent during holiday seasons.
My mother, on the other hand, has never managed to rebuild a love life. A few men have crossed her path, but none ever lasted beyond two or three dates. Perhaps she never truly wanted a relationship, or perhaps she simply hasnt found anyone who could fill my fathers void.
As for me, romance has 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 said it straightwasting my time or someone elses made no sense to me.
Then, one day, everything changed in an unexpected whirlwind.
I met the love of my life.
When I first saw Camille, I instantly knew it was different. From the very beginning I felt a rare, powerful bond between us. I was completely drawn to her, burning with the desire to spend every free moment by her side.
Camille came to Lyon from a tiny Alpine village. She enrolled at the university and fought to build a new life in the big city. She is ambitious, intelligent, gentle, and stunningly beautiful. We grew close at breakneck speed, started dating, and for the first time I tasted pure, incandescent happiness.
But, soon enough, that joy became an open wound for my mother, an unbearable affront.
She rejected my choice violently.
I have always been honest with my mother. She knows every girl Ive dated; Ive never hidden anything. So when I mentioned Camille, I expected a routine reactionperhaps a hint of suspicion, but also a natural curiosity.
Instead, a storm erupted.
She wouldnt even listen. As soon as I said Camille was from elsewhere, she cut me off, screaming that the girl was with me only for my status, my comfort, and above all, our apartment.
I was stunned, struck like lightning.
Where did such an idea come from? How could she judge someone she had never seen, never heard, never spoken to so harshly?
My mother locked herself into a relentless hostility toward our relationship. She threw fits, shouted until her throat hurt, broke down in tears, hammering the point that I was about to make the worst mistake of my life. In her view, I was merely a stepping stone 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, explaining that Camille has never hinted she wanted to live with me. She rents her own place, asks me for no money or assistance. Shes an independent woman who relies only on herself.
Yet my mother remained immovable, as solid as a rock.
The pressure that crushed me
At first I tried to turn a deaf ear to her accusations. I trusted Camille; 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 a slow 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? Was it a trick? Why did she give me gifts? Was she plotting something in the shadows?
I was driven to the brink of madness.
Camille, of course, sensed that something was wrong. She asked if everything was alright, if something bad had happened. I wanted to spill everything, but shame strangled me, gripping my throat like an invisible hand.
How could I tell the woman I love that my own mother sees her as a coldhearted apartment hunter?
Love or family?
The clash with my mother reached an unbearable peak.
She gave me a chilling ultimatum, sharp as a blade: either I break up with Camille, or I forfeit any chance of a normal relationship with her.
I was lost, teetering on the edge, heart in shreds.
On one side was my motherwho raised me, looked after me, and to whom I felt an overwhelming duty, an impossible debt.
On the otherdid I not deserve my own happiness? Didnt I have the right to love the person my heart chose in a desperate moment?
My mother refused to hear my pleas. Her certainty stood like an impenetrable steel wall.
I realized I had to choose.
But which path?
A visceral fear of making the wrong choice grips me. The thought of losing the one I love more than anything makes me tremble, yet Im not ready to cut ties with my mother.
Perhaps 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, ripped apart in an endless torment. For now, I have no idea how to get out of it
My Mum is Convinced that My Girlfriend is Only with Me for the Flat
