The Groom Introduced Me to His Mother, and She Handed Me a List of 30 Responsibilities

Ill never forget the day James introduced his mother to Emily and handed her a stack of thirty demands.

Emily Clarke, have you lost your mind? I heard Charlotte mutter, eyes wide. Thats absolute madness!

Emily, thirtyfive and fed up with pretending everythings fine, snapped back, Im just saying what I think.

Dont go blustering the boss like that, calling his ideas idiotic, Charlotte warned.

Emily leaned back in her swivel chair, a wry smile playing on her lips. Shed learned long ago that silence only suited the meek. Charlotte, her colleague and close friend, fidgeted with her pen, glancing toward the office door.

Charlotte, if we keep quiet nobody will ever think of us as people. The new project is a disaster and Ive said it, Emily said.

And now? Charlotte asked.

Now? Nothing. Let them think what they will. My conscience is clear, Emily replied.

Charlotte shook her head and returned to her screen. Emily checked her phone three missed calls from James. She smiled. James had entered her life six months ago, and everything had shifted since. After a failed marriage that ended five years ago, she never expected love again. James, however, was different attentive, caring, reliable.

She dialed back.

Hey, love. Hows it going?

Fine. Just had another tiff with the boss, Emily said.

Youre impossible, James laughed. Listen, I need to have a serious chat.

Whats up?

Nothing serious, just Mom wants to meet you. Were heading to her place this weekend.

Emilys heart stopped. Meeting a future motherinlaw is a big step. James had spoken a lot about her Eleanor Whitmore, sixtyeight, a widow living alone in a cottage on the outskirts of Surrey. He described her as stern yet fair.

Are you sure? Isnt it a bit early?

Weve been together half a year. Its time. Mom keeps asking when Ill introduce her to the woman I keep bragging about, James replied.

Alright, Emily sighed. Saturday then?

Exactly. Ill pick you up at ten. Dont worry, itll go well.

The rest of the week was a whirlwind of preparation. Emily bought a modest darkblue dress that fell to her knees, picked out a box of fine chocolates and a bunch of chrysanthemums James had told her his mum adored those flowers.

On Friday evening she rang Charlotte.

Can you believe it? Im meeting his mother tomorrow.

Wow, thats serious! Are you nervous?

Terrified. What if she doesnt like me?

Youre brilliant. What could she possibly dislike?

I dont know. James says shes strict. What if she decides Im not good enough for her son?

Dont overthink it. Itll be fine.

Despite the reassurance, Emily was a bundle of nerves. She slept poorly, waking several times for water. In the morning she wrestled with her hair, finally settling on a tidy bun.

James arrived right on schedule, dressed sharply in dark trousers, a crisp white shirt and a blazer a look Emily rarely saw him in.

You look wonderful, he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Thanks, you too. Like a proper fiancé, she teased, feeling a blush creep up.

He smiled oddly, saying nothing more.

The drive took about an hour. James chattered about work, holiday plans, but Emily only halflistened. The closer they got to Eleanors cottage, the tighter her chest felt.

The house was a sizeable twostorey with a neatly kept garden. Right at the gate, Eleanor stood on the porch tall, dignified, dressed in a tailored suit, silver hair neatly arranged, her face unreadable.

Hello, Mum, James kissed Eleanors cheek. This is Emily.

Hello, Mrs. Whitmore, Emily offered, extending the flowers and chocolates. Its a pleasure to meet you.

Eleanor inspected her from head to toe, accepted the gifts with a curt nod, and said, Come in, please.

Inside, everything gleamed with a sterile precision no dust, every item in its proper place. The sitting room featured heavy furniture and family photographs in matching frames.

Please, have a seat, Eleanor gestured to the sofa. Would you like some tea?

Yes, thank you.

While Eleanor disappeared to the kitchen, Emily perused the photos James as a child in school uniform, in a military jacket, at his university graduation. In every picture his mother stood beside him; his father appeared only in a few old snapshots.

My father died when I was fifteen, James said softly, noticing her stare.

Eleanor returned with a tray teapot, cups, a sugar bowl, all matching the same set. She poured tea and sat opposite Emily.

So, Emily. James has spoken of you, she began.

I hope only good things, Emily replied.

Various things, Eleanor sipped. Youre an accountant, right?

Yes, at a construction firm.

Were you married before?

Emily tensed; the question was expected but still uncomfortable. I was. We divorced five years ago.

Do you have children?

No.

Why did you split?

James shifted uneasily in his seat. Maybe I shouldnt

James, I have a right to know who my son is involved with, Eleanor said sharply, turning her gaze from him to Emily. So why the divorce?

It was a clash of personalities, Emily said calmly.

Thats an excuse. Whats the real reason?

She took a deep breath. My husband cheated. I found out and filed for divorce.

I see, Eleanor nodded. And why no children?

No luck.

Health issues?

Mother! Jamess voice rose. If she has fertility problems, I need to know. I want grandchildren.

Emily felt her cheeks flush. The conversation was not what shed imagined.

Im healthy. It was simply a failed marriage, she answered.

Eleanor placed her cup down. Now, to business. James may not have told you, but our family has certain traditions and rules. If you intend to become part of this family, you must know and follow them.

She stood, walked to a side cabinet, retrieved a folder, and handed Emily several stapled pages.

Whats this? Emily asked, bewildered.

Its a list of requirements for the future daughterinlaw. Thirty points. Read carefully, Eleanor said.

Emily glanced at James, 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 prepare every dish from 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 birth of her first child.

Point five: All major purchases must be approved by the motherinlaw

and the list continued with stipulations on wardrobe, household chores, childrearing methods, even how her hair should be styled.

This is a joke? Emily asked, looking up.

Im not joking, Eleanor replied coldly. These are serious demands. My late daughterinlaw, the wife of my eldest son, adhered to them without fail.

You had an eldest son?

Yes. He died in a car crash with his wife three years ago. James is now my only son, and I wont let him pair with an unsuitable woman.

Emily turned to James.

You knew about this list?

He nodded, eyes still low.

And you said nothing?

I thought I hoped Mum would change her mind, or that youd accept it, he admitted.

Accept this? Its medieval, Emily snapped, throwing the papers onto the table. James, this is absurd!

Dont dramatise, Eleanor hissed. These are reasonable expectations for a proper lady.

Reasonable? Point fifteen says I must hand over my salary!

For the family budget. Ill allocate the money properly.

Point twentytwo says I cant meet my friends without your permission!

A married woman has no business socialising.

And point twentyeight? I must live with you for a year after the wedding?

So I can teach you proper housekeeping.

Emily shook her head. This is madness. James, how could you bring me here knowing all this?

Emily, lets talk calmly

What are we talking about? That your mother wants to make me a slave?

How dare you! Im offering you honest terms. In return youll have a good husband, a comfortable life, a family.

Im not a commodity to be bought!

All women are for sale, just at different prices, Eleanor said icily.

Emily grabbed her bag. James, take me home. Now.

Emily, wait

If I leave now without accepting these terms, its over between you two, her mother snapped.

James rose, glanced between his mother and Emily, pleading in his eyes.

Emily, maybe youll reconsider? Not all points are set in stone, we can discuss

All points are nonnegotiable, Eleanor interjected. No exceptions.

Emily looked at James, caught between the man she loved and his overbearing mother.

Take me home, she whispered.

The drive back was silent. James tried to speak several times, but Emily turned to the window. He stopped in front of her flat, turned back.

Emily, lets talk.

What about? 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, bought flowers, spoke of love, yet you knew about that list.

I hoped Mum would change her mind once she got to know you better.

She doesnt even want to know me. She wants a robot to obey her commands.

My mother is lonely. After my father and brother died shes all I have, James said.

What do you have, James, besides Mum?

He fell silent.

Youre thirtyseven, a grown man. Yet you cant decide without Mums approval.

Thats not true

Exactly that, James. And you know what? Im not angry, Im sorry for you.

Emily stepped out of the car, James followed.

Emily, wait! I love you!

She halted at the doorstep, turned.

If you loved me, you wouldnt have put me through this humiliation. Goodbye, James.

She locked the door, slipped off her shoes and collapsed onto the sofa. Tears welled, but she held them back. No more crying over men who didnt deserve her tears.

Her phone buzzed. It was Charlotte.

How did it go? Did Mum like you?

Charlotte, it was a nightmare.

What happened?

Emily recounted everything. Charlotte gasped, Shes insane! And James 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.

Honestly, a decent man would never allow this.

Emily knew Charlotte was right, but her heart still ached. She loved James, and love doesnt switch off with a snap.

That evening James texted: Emily, lets meet, Ill explain everything. She didnt reply.

Later: Ill talk to my mum, get her to soften the demands. Still silence.

Later still: I cant live without you. Please answer. Emily turned the phone off.

The next day at work she tried to focus on the numbers, but the thirtypoint list kept haunting her. How could anyone in the twentyfirst century enforce such conditions?

Miss Clarke, theres a visitor, the secretary announced.

Who?

An elderly lady saying its a personal matter.

Emily frowned. Could it be?

In the reception area sat Eleanor, crisp suit, straight back, handbag on her knee.

What are you doing here? Emily asked.

We need to talk.

No point.

There is a point. Eleanor said, sitting, smoothing her skirt. Yesterday you left before hearing the whole story.

Ive heard enough.

No. You dont know the whole history.

I dont want to know.

My eldest son Andrew married against my will, Eleanor began, looking out the window. I opposed his bride; she was frivolous, fickle. I knew it wouldnt end well.

And?

They married, she cheated a year later. He forgave her, then again, and again. He loved her to madness. Then they died in a crash. She was with a lover at the time.

Emily remained silent.

After their death I found her letters. She mocked my son, called him a rag, used his money while loving another. Eleanors voice softened. Im sorry, but I dont want history to repeat. James is my only son. I must protect him.

Protect? Youre suffocating him!

Im caring for him.

Youve turned him into a man who cant make a single decision without your approval.

Eleanor pursed her lips. I made him a respectable man.

A respectable man who still lives with his mother at thirtyseven and cant defy you.

He lives in his own flat.

But you make the choices.

Eleanor stood. I see this conversation is useless. Remember, if you dont accept my conditions, James will find someone else who will.

Let him look. Hell end up with someone as spineless as himself, Emily retorted.

Eleanor left, disdain in her eyes. Emily sat alone, the past making a grim tapestry, but not justifying the present cruelty.

The day dragged on. James called several times; she ignored him. That evening, leaving the office, she saw his car waiting. He stepped out, hopeful.

Emily, please hear me out.

What? That youve been lying to me?