Molly Sinclair introduced her future husband to his mother, and the lady thrust a stack of thirty pages into Mollys hands.
Eleanor, have you lost your mind? This is absolute madness!
Nothings mad, Sophie. Im just saying what I think.
But you cant tell the boss his decisions are idiotic!
Eleanor leaned back in her swivel chair, a wry smile playing on her lips. At thirtyfive shed learned not to keep quiet when something was off. Sophie, her colleague and close friend, twisted her pen nervously, glancing toward the office door.
Sophie, if we keep quiet no one will ever think of us as people. This new project is a flop and I said so.
What now?
Nothing. Let them think what they like. My conscience is clear.
Sophie shook her head and returned to her screen. Eleanor checked her phonethree missed calls from Ian. She smiled. Ian had walked into her life six months ago, and everything had changed. After a disastrous marriage that ended five years earlier, she never expected to fall in love again. Ian, however, was differentattentive, caring, reliable.
She dialed back.
Hey, sunshine. Hows it going?
Fine. Had another row with the boss.
Youre hopeless, Ians voice was warm with amusement. Listen, Ive got something serious to discuss.
Whats up?
No, nothing wrong. Just my mum wants to meet you. Were heading to her place this weekend.
Molly froze. Meeting the mother was a big step. Ian had spoken at length about her. Violet Harper, sixtyeight, widowed, lived alone in a cottage on the outskirts of the village. By Ians description she was stern but fair.
Are you sure? Isnt it a bit early?
Molly, weve been together half a year. Its about time. Mum keeps asking when Ill introduce her to the woman I keep bragging about.
Alright, Molly sighed. Saturday then?
Yes. Ill pick you up at ten. And dont worry, itll be fine.
The rest of the week flew by in preparation. Molly bought a modest navy dress that fell to her knees, selected a box of fine chocolates and a bouquet of chrysanthemumsIan said his mum adored those flowers.
On Friday evening she called Sophie.
Guess what, Im meeting his mum tomorrow.
Oh, thats serious! Nervous?
Terrified. What if she doesnt like me?
Stop it, youre wonderful. What could she possibly dislike?
Ian says shes strict. What if she decides Im not good enough for her son?
Dont overthink it. Itll go great.
Still, Molly was a bundle of nerves. She slept poorly, waking several times to drink water. In the morning she agonised over her hairlet it down or pull it back. She settled on a tidy bun.
Ian arrived precisely at ten, looking sharp in dark trousers, a white shirt and a blazer. Molly rarely saw him so formal.
You look stunning, he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Thanks, you too. Almost a groom.
He smiled oddly, saying nothing more.
The drive took about an hour. Ian chattered about work, holiday plans, but Molly halflistened. The closer they got to his mothers house, the tighter her stomach clenched.
The cottage was a sizeable twostorey with a wellkept garden. At the gate stood Violet, tall and dignified in a strict suit, silver hair neatly arranged, expression unreadable.
Hello, Mum, Ian kissed her cheek. This is Molly.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Harper, Molly offered the flowers and chocolates. Delighted to meet you.
Violet gave her a sweeping appraisal, took the gifts, and nodded.
Come in.
Inside was immaculate, spotless, everything in its place. The living room featured heavy furniture and family photos in identical frames.
Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?
Yes, thank you.
While Violet disappeared to the kitchen, Molly examined the photosIan as a child in school uniform, in military garb, at his university graduation. In each picture his mother was there, his father only a faint figure in older snapshots.
My father died when I was fifteen, Ian murmured, noticing her stare.
Violet returned with a trayteapot, cups, a sugar bowl, all matching. She poured tea and settled opposite Molly.
So, Molly. Ian has told me a lot about you.
I hope only good things.
Various things, Violet sipped. You work as an accountant?
Yes, for a construction firm.
Were you married before?
Molly tensed; shed expected the question, but it still felt invasive.
I was. Divorced five years ago.
Any children?
No.
Why the divorce?
Ian shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
Ian, I have a right to know who my son is involved with, Violet said sharply, then turned to Molly. Why?
The personalities just didnt click, Molly replied calmly.
Thats an excuse. The real reason?
Molly inhaled deeply.
My exhusband cheated. I discovered it and filed for divorce.
I see, Violet nodded. And why no children?
It just never happened.
Health issues?
Ian, he raised his voice. Mum! If she has fertility problems I need to know. I want grandchildren.
Molly felt her cheeks flush. The conversation was veering far from what shed imagined.
Im perfectly healthy. Its just that the marriage fell apart.
Violet placed her cup down. Now, onto business. Ian may not have mentioned this, but our family has certain traditions and rules. If you intend to become part of it, you must know and obey them.
She rose, fetched a folder from a side cabinet, and handed Molly several stapled sheets.
Whats this? Molly asked, bewildered.
Its a list of requirements for the future daughterinlaw. Thirty points. Read carefully.
Molly glanced at Ian, who stared at the floor. She unfolded the paper.
Point one: the daughterinlaw must visit her motherinlaw at least twice a week.
Point two: she must be able to cook every recipe in the family cookbook.
Point three: she must bear at least two children within the first three years of marriage.
Point four: she may not work after the first child is born.
Point five: all major purchases must be approved by the motherinlaw.
With each clause her eyes widened. The list dictated attire, household chores, childrearing methods, even the hairstyle she was allowed to wear.
This a joke? she asked, looking up.
Im not joking, Violet said icily. These are serious demands. My late daughterinlaw adhered to them without question.
You have an older son?
She was.
Passed away?
In a car crash with his wife three years ago. Ian is now my only son, and I wont let him marry an unsuitable woman.
Molly turned to Ian.
You knew about this?
He nodded, eyes still fixed on the carpet.
And you said nothing?
I hoped Mum would change her mind, or that youd agree.
Agree to this? Molly stood, flinging the sheets onto the table. Ian, this is medieval nonsense!
Dont dramatise, Violet pressed her lips together. These are reasonable expectations for a respectable lady.
Reasonable? Point fifteen says I must hand over my salary!
For the family budget. Ill allocate the money wisely.
Point twentytwo says I cant meet friends without your permission!
A married woman has no need for frivolous outings.
And point twentyeightlive with you for a year after the wedding?
To teach you proper household management.
Molly shook her head.
This is insanity. How could you bring me here knowing all this?
Molly, lets talk calmly
Whats there to talk about? That your mother wants to turn me into a servant?
How dare you! Violet rose, her face reddening. Im offering honest terms. In return youll have a wonderful husband, a secure life, a family.
Im not property to be bought!
All women are for sale; the price just varies, Violet said coldly.
Molly grabbed her bag.
Ian, take me home. Now.
Im sorry
If she leaves now, refusing your mothers conditions, its over between you two, Violet snapped.
Ian stood, looked at his mother, then at Molly. His eyes pleaded.
Molly, maybe youll reconsider? Not every point is set in stone, we can discuss
Every point is nonnegotiable, Violet interjected. No exceptions.
Molly stared at Ian, caught between the man she loved and his overbearing mother.
Take me home, she whispered.
The drive back was silent. Ian tried to speak several times, but Molly turned toward the window. When they reached her street, he stopped the car, turned to her.
Molly, lets talk.
About what? That youve been lying to me for six months?
I didnt lie! I just didnt know how to say it.
You took me to restaurants, gave me flowers, spoke of love, yet you knew about this list.
I hoped shed change her mind once she got to know you better.
And she doesnt even want to know me. She wants a robot to obey her commands.
My mum is lonely. After my father and brother died shes alone. Im all she has.
What do you have, Ian, besides your mum?
He was silent.
Youre thirtyseven, a grown man, yet you cant decide without your mothers blessing.
Its not like that
It is, Ian. And you know what? Im not angry, Im sorry for you.
Molly stepped out of the car, Ian followed.
Molly, wait! I love you!
She halted at the building entrance, turned.
If you loved me, you wouldnt have subjected me to this humiliation. Goodbye, Ian.
She slammed the door, kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the sofa. Tears rose, but she held them back. Enough. No more crying over men who dont deserve her tears.
Her phone rang. Sophie.
How did it go? Did his mum like you?
It was a nightmare.
What happened?
Molly recounted everything. Sophie gasped.
Shes nuts! Ian brought you there like a lamb to the slaughter.
He says he loves me.
He loves his mum more. To him you were just a diversion.
Dont say that.
Sophie, I know. A decent man would never let that happen.
Molly knew Sophie was right, but the heart isnt a council of reason. She still loved Ian, and love doesnt switch off with a snap.
That evening Ian texted: Molly, lets meet, Ill explain everything.
She didnt reply. Later: Ill talk to my mum, persuade her to soften the list.
Silence from her.
Late night: I cant live without you. Please answer.
Molly turned the phone off.
The next morning at work she tried to focus on numbers, but the thirtypoint list kept popping up in her mind. How could anyone in the twentyfirst century still demand such things?
Ms. Sinclair, theres a visitor, the receptionist announced.
Who?
An elderly lady, says its a personal matter.
Molly frowned. Could it be?
In the reception area sat Violet, still in her stern suit, handbag perched on her knees.
What are you doing here?
We need to talk.
We have nothing to discuss.
There is something to discuss. Five minutes of your time.
Molly wanted to refuse, but curiosity won. She led the woman to a meeting room.
Im listening.
Violet sat, smoothing her skirt.
You left yesterday without hearing the end.
I heard enough.
No. You dont know the whole story.
I dont want to know.
My elder son Andrew married against my will, Violet said, staring out the window. I opposed his bride; she was frivolous, reckless. I knew it wouldnt end well.
And then?
They married, she cheated a year later. He forgave her, again and again. Then they died in a crash. She was leaving a lover.
Molly stayed silent.
After their deaths I found her letters, mocking my son, using his money, loving another.
Im sorry, but
I dont want the same thing to happen. Ian is my only son. I must protect him.
Protect? Youre suffocating him!
Im caring for him.
Youve turned him into a man who cant step out without your approval at thirtyseven.
Violet pursed her lips.
Ive made him respectable.
A respectable man who lives with his mum, terrified to disagree.
He has his own flat.
But you still make the decisions.
Violet stood.
I see this conversation is useless, but rememberif you dont accept my conditions, Ian will find someone else who will.
Let him look. Hell probably find someone as spineless as he is.
Violet glowered and left.
Molly sat alone, the room echoing with the weight of the past. The story of Andrew explained a lot, but it didnt excuse turning another sons life into a prison.
The day dragged on. Ian called repeatedly, but she let it ring. Leaving the office she spotted his car in the lot, him waiting.
Molly, please hear me out.
Ian, your mums already been here. I know everything about your brother.
She was?
Yes, she tried to explain her stance.
What have you decided?
You tell me.
He lowered his head.
Molly, I truly love you. But mum shes all I have left of my family.
Ian, you could have your own family, a wife, kids. But your mother wont let you.
Shell if the woman accepts her terms.
You dont get it. No sane woman would accept those terms. Anyone who does would be with you for the money, not love.
Youre wrong
Youre right, Ian. Deep down you know it too.
He stared at his shoes.
You know what? Molly sighed. I wish you happiness, truly. But you wont find it until you stand on your own feet.
Im independent!
No, youre a puppet on a string his mother pulls. Until you see that, nothing will change.
She walked past him to the bus stop. He called after her, Molly! Ill wait! Maybe youll change your mind!
She didnt look back.
A week later Sophie dragged her to a café after work.
Stop moping. Forget that mumboy.
Im not sulking. Just thinking.
Whats there to think about? He showed his true colours.
Sophie, he isnt a bad bloke. Hes just weak.
Do you need weak?
No, Molly shook her head. I dont.
Exactly. Move on and live.
Easy to say, hard to do. Six months of a halfyear relationship couldnt just vanish, even if it ended painfully. Ian had been caring, attentive, but his care was filtered through his mothers leash.
Saturday she visited her own mother in the countryside. Her mums tiny, cosy cottage was the antithesis of Violets orderly manorpaintings everywhere, a jumble of crafts.
Mash, you look glum, her mum hugged her at the door.
Its fine, mum.
Dont lie to your mother. Whats up?
Over tea, Molly spilled the whole saga.
Good thing it turned out that way.
Why good?
Imagine marrying him without knowing this. Itd have been worse.
Probably right.
My motherinlaw is a crucial part of married life. If shes sane, its a blessing; if not, a curse.
Mum, how did you get along with your own motherinlaw?
My mum took me in as a daughter, I took her as a mother. Its rare.
Ian sided with his mum.
Thats exactly what it says.
Molly hugged her mum, resting her head on her shoulder.
Mum, will I find a decent man?
Of course. Youre young, beautiful, smart. Just dont settle for less than you deserve.
That evening, returning home, a surprise awaited. At the door a massive basket of roses sat, a single handwritten note: Sorry. Ill make it right. Ian.
Molly sighed, carried the roses inside. They were gorgeous, expensive, but they changed nothing.
She called Sophie.
Can you believe he sent one rose?
Molly tucked the lone rose into a vase, smiled at the thought of a future shed craft herself, and finally felt ready to close that chapter and walk confidently toward her own happily ever after.
