“Mum says you’re not the right fit,” explained the groom, calling off the wedding.
“Have you ordered the flowers yet?” asked Margaret Whitmore, scanning her daughters to-do list in the notebook. “Florists get booked up fast during wedding season.”
Emily nodded without looking up from the wedding dress hanging on the mirror.
“Done. White roses and freesias, like we agreed.”
“Good girl. What about the musicians? Is that presenter from Jessicas wedding available?”
“Mum, everythings already sorted,” Emily replied wearily. “I told you yesterday.”
Margaret set the notebook aside and studied her daughter. Emily stood with her back turned, adjusting the folds of the dress, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her unease.
“Emily, love, why so glum? The weddings a week away, and you look like youre at a funeral.”
“Its fine, Mum. Just nerves.”
“Thats normal. I was a wreck before my wedding too.”
Emily turned. Her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes.
“Did you ever regret marrying Dad?”
Margaret blinked at the question.
“Of course not. Your father was a good man. Wheres this coming from?”
“I just wonder sometimes if this is the right choice. What if James and I are too different?”
“Dont be silly. James is a lovely lad. Hardworking, doesnt drink, doesnt mess about. His mothers respectable, hes got his own flat. What more could you want?”
Emily turned back to the mirror. In the reflection, her mother saw the sadness in her eyes.
“Mum how do you know if you really love someone?”
“Emily!” Margaret threw up her hands. “A week before the wedding, and youre asking this? 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 already.”
“Exactly. Time to settle down, start a family. You cant stay single forever.”
The doorbell cut them off. Emily went to answer, and a minute later, James walked in with a bouquet of carnations.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Margaret, lovely to see you.”
“Hello, son,” Margaret smiled. “All set to become a husband?”
“Absolutely,” James slid an arm around Emilys waist. “Right, darling?”
Emily forced a smile. “Yes, of course.”
“Wheres your mother?” Margaret asked. “We were supposed to finalise the last details today.”
James hesitated. “Shes not feeling well. Sends her apologies.”
“Again?” Margaret frowned. “Strange. All week its been headaches or blood pressure.”
“Shes just anxious about the wedding.”
Emily studied him. Something was offhis gaze darted, his fingers fidgeted.
“James, maybe we should visit her? 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 stay. Busy with work.”
He kissed Emily againhastily this timeand headed for the door.
“James, wait.” Emily stopped him. “Ill walk with you. Need some air.”
“Not necessary. Ive got the car.”
“Then drop me at the shops. I need groceries.”
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Outside, they got into his old hatchback. Emily buckled up and watched him.
“James, whats going on? Youve been odd all day.”
“Just tired, thats all.”
“Is your mum really ill?”
He didnt answer immediately, starting the engine instead.
“Listen, Emily we need to talk.”
Her chest tightened. “About what?”
“The wedding.”
“Whats wrong with it?”
He pulled over and turned off the ignition, avoiding her eyes.
“Mum says youre not the right fit,” he blurted.
The words hit like ice.
“What?”
“Shes against the wedding. Says were not suited.”
“James, why now? Weve been together a year and a half. Everything was fine.”
“I dont know. She feels strongly about it.”
“And what do you think?”
He shrugged. “Mums usually right about these things.”
Emily stared at the man shed planned to spend her life with and barely recognised him.
“But we love each other. Doesnt that matter more than her opinion?”
“Love” He waved a hand dismissively. “Thats just words. Real lifes different. Mum says youre too independent. Wont listen to me.”
“Where did she get that?”
“You earn more than I do. Mum says wives like that dont respect their husbands.”
Anger flared inside her.
“So I should quit my job to please her?”
“Not quit. But maybe find something simpler after the wedding. More time for family.”
“For familyor for waiting on your mother?”
James scowled. “Dont talk about her like that. She wants whats best.”
“For whom? You or her?”
“Emily, you dont understand. She raised me alone after Dad left. Sacrificed everything.”
“And now you have to sacrifice everything for her?”
“Shes my mother. I cant upset her.”
Emily saw him clearly for the first timenot kind and gentle, just weak. A man who couldnt choose between his future and his mothers approval.
“What exactly doesnt she like about me?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Says youre too proud. Dont take criticism well.”
Emily remembered the nitpickingthe soup too salty, his shirts poorly ironed, her makeup too bold.
“What else?”
“She thinks you dont want children. That your career comes first.”
“I never said that!”
“You brushed it off when I mentioned kids right after the wedding.”
She recalled the conversation. Shed simply wanted time as a couple first.
“James, I do want children. Just not immediately.”
“Mum says thats an excuse. Modern women are selfish, she says.”
“And you believe that?”
Another shrug. “Shes been around longer. Knows more.”
“Youre thirty-two. Cant you decide what kind of wife you want?”
“I can. But why argue with Mum? She means well.”
Emily leaned back, eyes closed. Memories flashedJames consulting his mother on everything, her picking his clothes, holidays, even the car colour.
What shed mistaken for closeness was control.
“So what now?” she asked quietly.
“Mum thinks we should postpone.”
“Postponeor cancel?”
“Cancel. For now.”
“Until what?”
“Until you change.”
Her eyes snapped open.
“You want me to become someone else to please your mother?”
“Not someone else. Just more agreeable. Homely.”
“I see. And if I wont?”
He spread his hands. “Then were not right for each other.”
Strangely, relief washed over her. A weight lifted.
“You know, your mothers right. We really arent suited.”
“Really?” He looked surprised. “So you agree?”
“Completely. You need a wife who obeys your mother. I need a husband who thinks for himself.”
“But I do make decisions!”
“After checking with Mummy, yes.”
“Dont say that. I respect my elders.”
“James, your mothers three years younger than mine. Yet she thinks she can decide who you love.”
“She wants me happy.”
“She wants you dependent. Thats why she finds fault with every girl you date.”
“Thats not true!”
“Then how many serious relationships have you had?”
He paused. “Four. But”
“Let me guess,” Emily cut in. “Something was always wrong. Too flighty, too serious, not pretty enough, pretty but dim.”
His stunned silence confirmed it.
“Classic. A mother who wont let go, sabotaging anyone who might take her place.”
“Youre wrong. She only wants my happiness.”
“Her version of it. Not yours.”
He started the car. “Ill take you home.”
They drove in silence. Emily gazed out the window, dreading telling Margaretcancelling bookings, returning the dress, explaining to guests.
Yet instead of despair, she felt light. As if shed dodged disaster.
At her doorstep, James hesitated.
“Maybe think it over? Talk to Mum?”
“No need. This is for the best.”
“But I love you!”
Emily looked at him with pity. “No, James. You love the idea of marriage. You dont even know me.”
“Weve been together eighteen months!”
“In which you never stood up for me. Never said my opinions mattered. Never defended me from her criticism.”
“I hate conflict.”
“Exactly. The easy way outagree
