Dear Diary,
Im still trying to make sense of what happened with Victor and his family, and the words keep looping in my head like a broken record. I apologise to myself, and perhaps to Victor, for the harsh things I said that night. I didnt mean them out of spite; they were spoken in a moment of frustration. I wonder if Ill ever be welcomed again at the Thompsons house. Victor is still alone, still lost in his video games after we split, never having found a new direction for his life.
Emma and Victor had been together for almost two years. To me, the relationship felt serious: I was often invited to the Thompsons home, where I was received politely, though never with genuine warmth. I believed we had a solid future. Victor, though a bit carefree, was charming and could be determined when he wanted to be.
Our idyll cracked when Victor failed his crucial English exam. It was a direct result of his negligence: during the lockdown he buried himself in video games, abandoning his studies entirely. The threat of being expelled loomed over him.
In the heat of that crisis, I couldnt hold back any longer and told his mother, Mrs. Thompson, sharply:
I dont need a man who accomplishes nothing. I need a selfsufficient partner. Im not going to be anyones housewife; I want us to share both the chores and the earnings.
Those words hung in the air, instantly casting doubt over any plans we had.
Mrs. Thompson took them as a personal affront. She had spent her whole life caring for her husband and son, believing her role was to look after them, not to demand results. Now she expected Emma to behave the same way.
What a cheek! she exclaimed. A woman shouldnt be a maid. Her place is the hearth, and the man is the head of the household!
I stayed silent, not wanting to fuel the quarrel. After that, the door seemed to close on me. Communication with Victor was reduced to secret messages, occasional calls, and brief meetups in neutral cafés. He suffered from not seeing me, yet instead of honesty he resorted to manipulation.
Emma, we have to talk to your mother, Victor pleaded over the phone. You need to explain that you dont actually feel that way. Im tired of hiding. Make peace with them, will you?
Why should I prove anything to your mother? I snapped. She didnt raise me. This is your problem, not mine. Why should I bend?
Because you love me, and I love you, he replied, his voice desperate. Its the only way to fix everything. If you dont, well lose each other forever.
With a heavy heart, I agreedout of love I was willing to take the humiliating step of confronting a strangers mother.
But it didnt go as I imagined.
When I arrived, Victor let me into the hallway. At that moment his father, Mr. Thompson, appeared downstairs.
Victor, whats this girl doing here? he demanded brusquely.
Victor froze. I felt my face turn as pale as a sheet. His fathers question made it sound as if I were a random acquaintance, not his sons girlfriend.
Dad, Emma, we were Victor started, but his father cut him off.
I see who she is. Shes out! he barked.
From the living room, Mrs. Thompson emerged.
Whos making all that noise? Victor, whos with you?
Mr. Thompson, ignoring me completely, shouted:
The very one who taught you how to live.
It struck me then that I was unwelcome. Humiliation surged, and instinct took over.
Im leaving, and you staypathetic, goodfornothing son of your mother! I hissed, storming out and slamming the door loudly behind me.
Victor didnt even try to stop me.
As soon as I was in the hallway, my phone rang. Victors voice was not apologetic; it was furious.
What did you say that for? Youve ruined everything!
What have I ruined? Your father just reduced me to a callgirl! he shouted.
It doesnt matter who he put me where! You caused a scene! Now Mum is furious, and Dad says he wont let me see you again!
Then he said the words that finally broke me.
And you know the worst part? I wont be allowed to sit at the computer any longer.
A cold resolve settled over my hurt and anger.
Youre blaming me for not being able to play games? Your familys problems are yours to solve, not mine. You should have dealt with them yourself, not made me the scapegoat.
It became clear: he hadnt changed. He remained an immature young man looking for someone to blame. He offered me no protection.
I cant put up with this any longer, Victor. This is the end, I said firmly. I blocked him on every platform. The break was sharp, but necessary. His familys burdens are his to bear, not mine.
A year later, Ive pieced myself back together. Ive started a new chapter and met someone new; weve been together for three months and are already talking about marriage.
One afternoon, while browsing a shop, I ran into Mrs. Thompsonnow calling herself Mrs. Thompson as if she were still my mother-in-law.
Emma! My dear, hello! she exclaimed, rushing to hug me.
I flinched.
Hello I replied cautiously.
She bombarded me with questions.
Its been ages! How have you been? Hows life? I heard you and Victor split. Hes completely gone mad with his games! He wont work, just sits in front of the screen. When you two were together he was far more responsible Do come over for tea sometime!
Sorry, Mrs. Thompson, Im busy. Work, home I tried to excuse myself.
She noticed the ring on my finger.
And this? Are you married?
No, were only engaged. Well have the wedding this summer.
Her smile turned into a sneer.
So thats it, then! Good thing Victor left you! We dont need someone like you around!
I shrugged and turned toward the shelves. In a twisted way, she was rightshe was glad Victor had left her. It was a pity, though, that Id wasted so much time on him.
Now I sit with my notebook, trying to understand how love can be both a sanctuary and a battlefield. I hope the future holds kinder people, and that Ive finally learned to set boundaries that protect my heart.
