For five years she believed she was living with her husband, only to discover she was actually married to her own mother

Eleanor hailed from a sleepy English village tucked between misty hedgerows and wandering sheep. One afternoon, Cupids arrow found herthough in her dream, it was shaped suspiciously like a cricket batand she fell headlong for Adam, who fell for her as well. In a haze, they decided to abandon their village, saying farewell to cobblestone streets and tea rooms, vowing to journey to London to earn pounds for their wedding feast. Their parents waved them off, blessing their quest, and Eleanor and Adam truly did intend to save for a proper celebration. But after a spell in the city, they changed their minds.

Theyd grown weary of Londons young crowd, who came to their own weddings in trainers and denim, only accepting cash gifts, and replaced roasts and puddings with canapés or, worse still, zoom calls, spending their wedding presents on their mortgage instead.

And so Eleanor and Adam did exactly that. Still, when their mothers returned to the village, they threw together a modest British spreadsausages and salad, perhaps a Victoria sponge. They knew no one in London, but that hardly matters. Im spinning you all this yarn simply so you can picture Eleanor and Adam: steady, sensible, yet quietly ambitious.

Five years slipped by. They postponed children, choosing instead to tackle the mortgage together. Eleanors mother, a fierce woman who brought up her daughter on her own, would phone constantly, never forgetting to announce she was entirely ready to welcome grandchildren. But Eleanor understood: if they lived with her mother, theyd unravel within weeks. There was no real rush, so they lingered, waiting for the right moment.

Then, Eleanors old grievances resurfaced, simmering quietly as they once had, but becoming harder to ignore. She rang me up one rainy Thursday:

“He spends ages chatting with others on the phone, but with me its just hello and cheerio…”
“When Adam gets in from work, youll have plenty of time to talk.”
“Id like to watch a gentle romance after work but he just sits staring at those ghastly horror films.”
“How many tellies do you have? You could always watch a film on the laptop with headphones, you know. But its not much of a marriage if youre sat together, yet your minds are miles apart.”
“Exactly! I dont think Adam understands me at all!”
“Thats a rather novel claim.”
“Why are you chuckling?”
“Alright, Ill stop.”
“Eleanor, when do you two actually enjoy yourselves together?”
“When were away on holiday or we have guests… Hes so thoughtful on those days…”

My conversation with Eleanor meandered on for nearly an hour. She recounted how she and Adam had met, how every girl in the village was envious of her. From everything she said, I gathered the issue was: Eleanor had an unspoken, feminine longing to show offshe loved being admired in the village, but in London, she had nobody to impress. That was her first frustration. The next was even stranger…

“Eleanor, whats your idea of a perfect marriage?”
“Definitely with children.”
“Of course everyone mentions children, but after having them, many marriages drift apart…”
“My husband should care about my mood, ask me how my workday was, admire my outfit, compliment my cooking…”
“He doesnt do any of that?”
“No, he gets home, says suppers goodthats not enough for me.”
“Walk me through it… he walks in, youve made him mashed potatoes and sausages, and then…?”
“He rubs his hands together and grins.”
“But surely thats a compliment! Imagine if he pushed his plate away and made a fusswould you be happier?”

Eleanor fell quiet, perhaps not fully grasping her own criticism. Yet she continued to harbour dissatisfaction towards Adam. I realised what bothered her straightaway. To confirm, I asked about her relationship with her mother.

Turns out her mum was highly emotionalalways asking endless questions, rushing to reassure her when things went haywire, promising that everything would sort itself out.

Sometimes people say we marry those who resemble our parentsor those who lavish us with affection. Eleanor never had a father, so she simply assumed everyone expressed love as vibrantly as her mother.

I gently suggested to Eleanor that, for five years, shed expected Adam to behave exactly like her mother, craving the same constant attention and emotional fuss. At first, she was shocked, but after a minutes pondering, she agreed.

“So, how do I divorce my mum?”
“Its easy. Every time you feel aggrieved, imagine its not Adam sitting with youits your caring mother. Adam could never compete! Thats all there is to it.”
“And thats it?”
“Thats it. And soon enough, youll find the resentment simply melts away.”