**Diary Entry – 14th March**
In a quiet market town nestled in the rolling hills of the Cotswolds, where age-old stone cottages cradle the warmth of family ties, my life—so full of love for my son—has turned to bitter disillusionment. I, Margaret Williams, always dreamed my Jonny would find a wife worthy of him. But his fiancée, Emily, has shown her true colours, and now I lie awake, my heart aching for the future of my boy.
Jonny is my pride, my only child. I raised him alone after my husband passed, working as a schoolteacher, denying myself everything so he’d never want for a thing. He grew up kind and clever, became an engineer, and I was certain happiness lay ahead. When he told me about Emily, his sweetheart, I was overjoyed—he’d found love at last. They courted for a year, and I imagined meeting a gentle, warm-hearted girl who’d be my daughter-in-law.
Yesterday, Emily invited me for tea at a cosy little café in the town square. I wore my best dress, brought scones to share, hoping to make a good impression. But what began with polite smiles twisted into a nightmare. Emily, pretty and self-assured, spoke as though I were nothing but an obstacle. Her words, icy and calculated, still echo in my mind.
“Margaret,” she said, meeting my gaze without warmth, “let’s be clear. Jonny’s a grown man, and I won’t have you interfering in our lives. We’re planning the wedding, but after that, I don’t intend to share him.” I stammered, “Emily, I only want you both to be happy.” She cut me off. “Happiness means we’re together—just us. You smother Jonny. From now on, he’ll answer to me, not you.”
Her words cut like a knife. I’d never been overbearing—always gave Jonny his freedom. But to Emily, I was a threat. She went on, “We won’t have you living with us, not even when children come along. Grandmothers are lovely, but not every day. And Jonny mentioned you’ve been saving for a flat for him. Good. But we’d prefer a country house. Think how you might help with that.” I near gasped at her audacity. She wasn’t just pushing me away—she wanted my savings, my home, my son, as though I meant nothing.
I tried to reason, “Emily, I raised Jonny alone. Everything I have is for him. But I’m still his mother!” She gave a thin smile. “Mothers should know their place. Jonny is mine now, and I’ll decide how we live.” Her cold certainty shattered me. I left money for the tea and walked out, tears burning behind my eyes. That night, I didn’t sleep a wink. How could I hand my son to a woman like this?
At home, I rang Jonny, hoping he knew nothing of her plans. But he was evasive. “Mum, Emily’s just forthright. She wants what’s best for us.” His words crushed me. My boy—raised with such love—already swayed by her. He couldn’t see how she was twisting him, cutting me out. I feel him slipping away, and it’s tearing me apart.
My neighbour, Mrs. Thompson, tried to console me. “Margie, talk to Jonny. He loves you—he’ll understand.” But I fear Emily’s already turned him against me. Her words—that I’m unwanted, unnecessary—haunt me like a death knell. I picture her taking my son, my home, my life, leaving me with empty hands and a broken heart.
What do I do? Forbid the marriage? It would destroy him. Stay silent? Then I’d lose myself. Emily, with her shrewd eyes, terrifies me. She doesn’t love Jonny—she means to own him, to erase me. My love for him is both my strength and my sorrow. I long to protect him, but how do I fight a woman who’s already claimed his heart?
Each night, I lie awake reliving that conversation. My home, my town, my very life—all steeped in dread. I dreamed Jonny would have a loving wife, a home full of warmth. Emily’s shattered that. I must find the strength to save my son, but her cold words—her certainty she’s won—chill me to the bone. My soul cries out: I won’t surrender my boy to someone who sees him as a prize.
**Lesson learned:** Love blinds, but a mother’s instinct never lies. Some battles must be fought, even when the cost is the heart itself.