Why Aren’t You Opening the Door? – I Don’t Want To! Guests Should Warn Before Visiting—And Stop Raiding My Fridge and Cabinets! – What Do You Mean No? That’s My Mother! She Came to See Me! – Well, Go Greet Her Then! But Not in My House!

Why arent you opening the door?

Because I dont want to! Guests should give a heads-up before dropping byand maybe resist rifling through my drawers, fridge, and cupboards while theyre at it.

Seriously? Thats my *mother*! She came to see *me*!

Brilliant. Go greet her, then. Just not in *my* house.

Emily always got on better with his mum, come to think of it.

You know, if I started listing all the ways my ex was better than you, wed both be mortified.

Though Im not sure about myself, interrupted Charlotte nervously, scrubbing at the kitchen table. If you two were so perfect together, whyd you break up?

Victor turned away, sulking, and glared out the window.

You already know the story

Exactly. So spare me the my sweet Emily nonsense, Charlotte snapped. Or Ill be your next ex.

She was dead serious.

Shed met Victor a year ago at a mutual friends gatheringironically, the same one where shed first seen Emily, though theyd never been close. Emily had brought Victor along, then vanished from the social radar a few months later.

One tipsy evening, Victor had confidedcomplete with actual tearsthat hed dumped Emily after catching her cheating. At the time, Charlotte found it endearing: a man unafraid of emotion! A romantic! Something in her *clicked*probably her maternal instincts, not attractionbut it was enough to start a relationship.

At first, it was lovely. He waited for her after work, drove her home, sent daily sweet texts, and fretted over whether shed dressed warmly enough. She felt *cherished*.

Then Emily messaged her.

*Hey. Heard youre seeing Victor. None of my business, but be careful. He and his mum are a package deal.*

Charlotte noted it but brushed it off. Love conquered worse, right? Just because things went south with one woman didnt mean history would repeat.

*Thanks for the heads-up, but well figure it out ourselves.*

She didnt want to engage furtherit felt disloyal.

Victor, however, had no such qualms about *her* comfort.

When his mother, Margaret, first showed up unannounced, Charlotte bit her tongue. Maybe they just didnt realise how rude it was. Maybe Margaret was just worried about her sons new flatmate.

She shoved Victor toward the door, threw on clothes, scraped her hair into a ponytail, and stumbled outsleep-deprived, puffy-eyedto meet her potential mother-in-law. Who was already elbow-deep in their living room drawers.

Goodness, what a mess, Margaret sighed, amused. Socks everywhere. Charlotte, after breakfast, Ill teach you how to fold clothes properly.

No hello. Just *this*. Charlotte was too stunned to speak. Rooting through her underwear? Rude. But snapping back felt worse, so she endured.

Oh, love, those under-eye bags! Margaret tutted. Cucumber slices, stat. Or get your kidneys checkedmy friend Ethel had the same, and

Charlotte nodded, smiled, and fantasised about her pillow. It was *8 a.m.* on a *Saturday*. Shed stayed up late *specifically* to sleep in.

By evening, shed absorbed a masterclass in flower-watering, toilet-scrubbing, and cutlery-polishingplus hands-on practice. Victor? Nowhere. Not a single Mum, maybe let her breathe?

Is your mum always this *enthusiastic*? Charlotte ventured that night.

Yeah. Why? Shes just being friendly, Victor shrugged. Emily and I lived with her beforewas great. Now shes lonely.

Please tell me were not moving in with her.

Youve got a problem with my mum? he bristled. Emily adored her.

Charlotte held her tongue. Emily was eight years younger, a people-pleaserof *course* shed memorised Margarets friends medical histories and ironed sheets like a pro.

But Charlotte hadnt signed up for that. She believed in boundariessomething Victor didnt grasp.

Mum gets on with everyone, he said proudly.

*Just not everyone wants her to*, Charlotte thought.

It got worse. Margaret returned the next morning*early*to inspect the fridge.

*Chicken* eggs? Victor only eats quailbetter for his health. And these shelves! Filthy. Charlotte, youll need to

Ill get to it, Charlotte lied. Its our *day off*.

Victor, of course, was still asleep.

Nonsense! Weekends are for *deep cleaning*, Margaret declared. Sponge. Now. Next Saturday, Ill teach you Victors favourite steak pie. Youll *weep* with joy.

Charlotte crossed her arms. *Oh, hell no.*

Margaret, maybe text before visiting? We might have plans.

I need an *invitation* to see my own son?

He lives with *me* now. Common courtesy?

Emily never minded.

Well, *my* exs mum brought cherry scones. Delicious. Want the recipe?

Margarets face darkened. Think carefully, dear. The nightingale wont outsing the lark.

She left, but the damage was done. Victor didnt listen. Margaret treated their home like her own. And Emilys ghost haunted every conversation.

*Emilys cabbage rolls were better. Her mum taught her.*

**Then have *her* teach you, Charlotte shot back.

She braced for Margarets retaliation but refused to dwell on it.

A month of peace passedthen the doorbell rang again. Charlotte didnt budge.

Petty? Maybe. But after last time? *No.*

Five minutes later, Victor stormed out, groggy and furious.

Whys the door still locked?

Because I said so. Guests *knock first*and dont snoop!

Its my *MUM*!

Then greet her *outside*.

Cue screaming. Accusations. Margaret wailing into the intercom. Finally, Charlotte snapped.

Enough! Either you explain boundaries to your mum *now*, or were done.

He chose done.

No tears shedthey werent even married. Bullet dodged.

Months later, gossip reached her: Victor had a new girlfriend. A mutual friend smirked.

She moved in with him *and* Margaret. Already wants to flee. Asked to meet you.

*Why?*

Apparently, Margaret raves about you now. Gorgeous, fiery, cooks like a dream.

…*Margaret* said that?

Seems she only likes you *after* youve dumped her son.

From then on, Charlotte listened to rumourswith a grain of salt, but she listened.

And she steered clear of men who worshipped their exes *and* their mums.

Lifes too short for that trio. Mums #1? Fine*in moderation*.

Agree? Thoughts below. Likes appreciated.