28October2025
Dear Diary,
Today I find myself reflecting on the long, thorny road that has led me from a cramped flat in Manchester to the house I now share with my own family. It all began with my motherinlaw, Margaret Whitfield, a woman whose temperament could fill a ballroom with drama.
When I was a boy, she would thunder at me, Youll never have a mother again! as if her words could strip away my very existence. After my wedding she warned me, Once the vows are spoken, you will no longer bother me. Pretend I never existed, and dont expect any wedding cash from me. If I didnt pick your bride, I wont foot the bill for this farce. Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
My own son, little James, would curl up in my arms and coo, Mum, youre the best in the whole world. Ill do everything to keep your smile alive. Those words melted her icy heart, even if she would never admit it. I called him my angel because his golden curls, blue eyes and perfectly chiseled features seemed lifted from a aristocratic portrait. As he grew, I found myself obsessively judging every potential daughterinlaw for my son, Henry. She had to come from a respectable line, look immaculate, possess a slender figure, hold a university degree, and exhibit flawless manners. A respectable job in a reputable firmpreferably in a senior rolewas nonnegotiable.
The flat is already ours, Margaret would say, but we need a lady who can keep it spickspan and be ready to welcome guests at any hour, even three in the morning. Thats her duty as a wife and housekeeper.
The longer time went by, the harsher her demands grew. No girl older than twentyfive, she muttered. Shell only produce weak offspring. And we must be absolutely certain the child is Henrys.
My goodness, Margaret, my sisters whispered, there are no women these days who meet your impossible standards. If you want Henry to marry soon, let go of your meddling. Otherwise hell stay a bachelor forever.
Henry excelled at school and university, landed a wellpaid position at a tech firm in London, yet his love life remained a disaster. Whenever he tried to introduce a girlfriend to his mother, she would conjure a thousand reasons to drive the girl away. At each meeting shed command, Henry, go slice some fruit in the kitchen while we chat.
The first girl Henry brought home was Emily Clarke, a sweet girl from a modest backgroundher mother an accountant, her father a coalminer, with two younger brothers. Emily worked as a pharmacists assistant, which made Margaret uneasy. She has constant access to medicines, Margaret fretted. What if she poisons my sonor me? And her family are labourers; we cant have that.
Emily, you understand you cant marry my son, Margaret hissed when they were alone. Youre too different. He grew up in a world youll never know. Find someone simpler.
Emily left without a word, never looking back. When Henry pressed for an explanation, she replied coolly, Ask your mothershe raised you in a gilded cage. She thinks youre too good for me, so Ill look for someone more downtoearth.
Mother, why did you treat Emily that way? I liked her, truly liked her. What did you say?
Im your mother, and I know best who can make you happy, Margaret answered, her voice dripping with certainty. Not Emily. Shes a mess, not from a respectable family.
Realising I could not convince Margaret, I retreated. I sometimes mentioned new acquaintances, but never brought them home. When she offered help in finding a wife, I politely declined. Ill choose my own partner, I told her. Thats my decision, not yours.
She snarled, Youll bring home a nanny who knows nothing but dusters and mops.
At least shed keep the floors shining, Henry retorted with a grin.
Dont speak to me like that! Margaret snapped.
Eventually Henry moved out of her flat and into a rented apartment that I had inherited from my late aunt. His relationship with his father, Richard Blake, had been strained since the divorce when Henry was six. Richard had not spoken to his son for years, but recently agreed to meet.
Richard confessed, I left Margaret because she suffocated me. She monitored my every move, asked where I was going, what I was doing, and criticized my lack of education. She treated me like a beast of burden. I thought Id escaped, but she still demands money. I saved ten years wages to buy a flat for you, but she never mentioned it.
I was stunned. What?
Richard repeated, I wanted you to have a place of your own. If you stay with Margaret, youll never have a life of your own. She never values anyone but herself.
When I asked why he hadnt been present, he replied, She threatened to move me far away, so I kept my distance.
His words made me see Margaret in a new light. She was, despite everything, the most devoted mother I had ever known. I told myself I would look for a partner who, at the very least, reminded me of her kindness. Margaret, however, scoffed at the notion. Youll never find a woman like me, she muttered, theres only one of me in a million.
After Emily, Henry met several other women, but none passed Margarets scrutiny. Eventually he set an ultimatum: Either you stop meddling in my life, or Ill stop seeing you.
You ungrateful wretch, Margaret retorted, did you forget I bought you a home and funded your education? How dare you speak to me that way?
Enough, Mum, Henry pleaded. I know who really paid for that flat. I spoke with father; he told me everything.
Do you believe him? she shouted. Not my son, but some loser?
The loser is my father, Henry answered dryly.
Margarets face turned ashen. She withdrew into her bedroom, and the next morning she didnt come down for breakfast. When I knocked, she shouted, Leave me alone and go back to your worthless father!
I opened the door to find her on the bed, hair disheveled, dress rumpled, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was a stark contrast to the polished woman who always wore designer perfume.
You know, son, she said slowly, marry whomever you wish, even if its a mix of a Papuan and a penguin. Just forget that you have a mother. After the wedding, I wont bother you, and I wont give you any more wedding money. If I didnt pick your wife, I wont fund the whole charade.
I bowed lightly, joked, Understood, Mum, and closed the door behind me. That very day Henry moved into the flat that was now truly his.
Six months later, Henry invited Margaret to a restaurant to announce his engagement.
Who is she? she asked indifferently.
Hell like you anyway, you wont, Henry replied coolly. Her name is Lisa Hart. Shes twentysix, from a long line of doctors. A very respectable young lady.
Oh, and wheres the proof? Margaret rolled her eyes. Show me a picture.
Henry pulled out his phone and showed a photo of a strikingly beautiful Asianlooking woman.
Thats not a Lisa, Margaret muttered. She looks more like a Gulchatai. Why call her Lisa?
Shes halfKorean, Henry explained patiently.
Even better, Margaret sneered. Like a bulldog mixed with a rhino.
Shell grow on you once you get to know her after the wedding, Henry smiled.
My mothers breath caught at his words. After the wedding? Youre marrying despite me? she asked, halfshocked, halfangry.
For my own happiness, Henry replied, winking at the waiter.
Margaret sat in stunned silence, trying to imagine grandchildren from such a union. The worst possible picture formed in her mind.
At the wedding, Henry pulled Margaret aside and warned, No drama, please. If Lisa leaves because of you, Ill never forgive you.
She was forced to sit quietly, like a mouse beneath a hawk, watching the radiant bride and her son dance, laugh, and exchange loving glances. The next morning the newlyweds arrived with a basket of treats for Margaret, but she barred them from entering.
So, son, she said, I did exactly what you wanted. Now listen to me. Dont ever bring that mixedbreed into my house again. Do you understand what youre doing? You could have a thousand wives, but a motheronly one.
The couple left, and Margaret, fuming, tossed the gift into the rubbish bin. I wont accept anything from this halfblood, she spat.
Soon after, Margarets health began to decline. Lisa, ever the devoted daughterinlaw, took charge of her care, hiring night and day carers so the old woman wouldnt be left alone. Margaret could not swallow her pride, knowing she relied on the very person she despised.
You promised me a daughter whod be like me, she muttered. Where is the resemblance?
She was forced to keep her tongue in check, which only inflamed her fury.
When the phone rang, she answered in a melodious tone, Hello, dear Lisa. How are you? My blood pressure is spiking. Could you come over, please? They arranged a visit, and the cycle continued.
Looking back, I see how this endless tugofwar has worn us all thin. Margarets need to control became her prison, Henrys rebellion turned into a quiet resignation, and I have been caught in the middle, trying to be the peacemaker.
Lesson:Control and pride can lock a family in a vicious loop; the only way out is to let go, accept imperfections, and give space for love to grow on its own terms.
