Everything started the day my son Ryan brought home a woman who was about 20 years older than him and announced that she would be moving in with us. At first, I didn’t say much, but I had a plan. Let’s just say that by the time they realized the full consequences of their actions, it was already far too late.
For years, all I wanted was for Ryan to be happy and settle down with someone who loved him as much as I did. This wish only grew stronger after my husband passed away three years ago.
But I never imagined that my dream would come true in such an unexpected way.
Most of my life, I was fortunate. I had a loving husband, two wonderful children, and a home filled with warmth and laughter.
My husband, Daniel, was the kind of man who brought stability and security to our lives. When he passed away three years ago, it felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under me.
Since then, I’ve done my best to move forward, even though some days are harder than others.
Bella, my daughter, has always been a bright spot in my life. She was my reliable, hardworking child—proud of doing her best in school even as a little girl.
So, it was no surprise when she graduated as the top of her class and landed a great job in another city. Bella is currently single, and while I sometimes wish she would settle down, I never had to worry about her. She has always been focused and capable.
And then there’s Ryan, my youngest. Ryan has always been a free spirit.
As a child, he had no interest in school. His world revolved around video games, comic books, and goofing around with his friends. Getting him to do his homework was like negotiating with a stubborn mule.
But something changed in his late teenage years. Maybe it was seeing his friends take their futures seriously, or perhaps he simply realized that playing video games wouldn’t pay the bills.
Whatever the reason, Ryan started making an effort. He eventually graduated, got a stable job, and while he didn’t become the next CEO of a tech company, he was responsible and earning his own money—which was enough for me.
Ryan’s biggest passion now is traveling. He’s constantly saving for trips, exploring new places, and coming back with stories about his adventures.
It makes me happy to see him so excited about life, though deep down, I wish he would spend less time planning trips and more time thinking about his future.
At 30, he still lives at home with me, which I don’t mind. After Daniel’s passing, it has been comforting to have Ryan around.
But like any mother, I want more for him. I want him to find someone who makes him happy—someone he can share his life with.
After losing Daniel, this desire only grew stronger. Honestly, it’s not about wanting grandchildren; it’s about Ryan experiencing the kind of love and partnership I had with Daniel.
“Ryan,” I would occasionally ask, “is there someone special in your life?”
He would laugh and brush me off. “Mom, you’ll be the first to know.”
I don’t know if I was truly the first, but he told me after returning from a trip to France.
One evening, he brought it up over dinner.
“So, Mom,” he began, poking at his food, “I met someone on my trip.”
“Really?” I looked at him, eager to hear more.
He told me her name was Lydia and that they met at an art gallery in Paris.
“She’s smart, funny, and we just clicked,” he said, his face lighting up.
“And what does she do?” I asked, wanting to know more.
“She curates art collections for high-profile clients. She’s incredibly knowledgeable about the art world, and I love how passionate she is about her work.”
“She sounds amazing!” I exclaimed. “When can I meet her?”
“Not yet,” he said, shaking his head. “I want to take my time, Mom. I need to get to know her better first.”
That was enough for me. For months, I dreamed of the day Ryan would introduce me to this incredible woman.
I imagined her as young, vibrant, and full of energy. I had no idea that my expectations would soon be shattered in a way I never saw coming.
Months later, Ryan came home with a wide grin.
“Mom,” he said, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, “I think it’s time for you to meet Lydia.”
“Really? That’s wonderful, Ryan!” I clapped my hands, picturing a young woman with bright eyes who had won my son’s heart.
“She’s free this Friday,” he said. “Maybe we can all have dinner together?”
“Of course!” I agreed immediately. “I’ll make lasagna. Everyone loves lasagna.”
I wanted everything to be perfect, so I made sure the house was spotless.
I pictured Lydia as bubbly and full of life—a younger woman who adored Ryan and looked up to me as a mother figure. I even picked out my best dress and styled my hair to make sure I looked modern enough to keep up with the young couple.
When Friday came, I could barely contain my excitement. The lasagna was in the oven, the table was set with my finest dishes, and I was finishing up the salad when the doorbell rang.
“That must be her!” I called out.
Ryan jumped up to answer the door while I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel. I was thrilled—until I stepped into the living room and froze.
There stood Lydia. But she wasn’t the fresh-faced young woman I had imagined.
She was mature. If I had to guess, only five years younger than me.
Her hair was perfectly styled, and she wore an elegant outfit that screamed sophistication. She looked more like someone I’d go to a wine-and-cheese party with rather than my son’s girlfriend.
“Mom, this is Lydia,” Ryan said proudly.
“Hello, Celine!” Lydia greeted me with an enthusiastic smile, reaching out her hand.
“Hi,” I murmured, weakly shaking her hand.
Ryan seemed oblivious to my shock. He led Lydia to the dining room, chatting about their day as if nothing was unusual.
As we sat down for dinner, Ryan eagerly started discussing their future plans.
“Mom,” he began, “I’ve been thinking… Lydia should move in with us.”
I nearly choked on my water. “Move in? With us?”
“Yes,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It makes sense. She can help around the house, and we can save money by living together.”
I turned to Lydia, who was smiling brightly.
“I think it will be wonderful,” she said. “I’d love to help around the house and make things easier for you, Celine.”
I didn’t need help. I had been managing just fine for years. But before I could say anything, Ryan continued.
“It’s not just about saving money,” he added. “I love her, Mom. I think she’s the one.”
I always supported Ryan in his relationships, but this time, I felt sick. How could he be happy with a woman who was nearly my age?
The rest of dinner was a blur. I nodded and smiled, but my mind was elsewhere.
Later that night, lying in bed, I wrestled with my emotions. Should I tell Ryan how I felt? Would he listen? Or would I push him away?
One thought kept running through my mind: If I opposed this, I might lose my son. And after losing Daniel, I couldn’t bear that idea. So despite my reservations, I agreed to let Lydia move in.
At first, everything seemed fine. But soon, cracks started to show.
Lydia took over the house, changed things without asking, and even suggested I move out.
So I did something they never expected—I transferred ownership of the house to Ryan.
A month later, Lydia called, furious. They had just received their first set of bills.
“Welcome to the real world,” I told her.
In the end, Ryan begged me to take back the house. I did—but I had learned a painful truth. And though I still love my son, I have decided to love myself more.
