I always knew I had a mom, but for most of my life, she wasn’t just my mother—she was the center of my universe. Even at thirty-seven years old, living independently with a good job at a museum, two degrees under my belt, a stable bank account, and a passion for art history, my mother still checked in on me every single day without fail.

No matter how grown-up I was, every time I saw her name on my phone screen, I straightened up automatically like a student being called on in class. She had a say in everything—what time I should go to bed, what I should wear, what I should eat, even down to the color of my nail polish. She had always made it very clear that no man was good enough for me, and I believed that no matter who I dated, they’d be doomed to fail her impossible standards. Then came Theo. For the first time in my life, I kept something from my mom. I didn’t tell her about him right away. I waited three days.

That was as long as I could hold out before she sensed something was up. The night Theo came over, I felt excited and nervous. I had made a pie from an online recipe instead of the ones in Mom’s worn-out family cookbook. The pie was slightly burnt and the chicken was a little dry, but they were my mistakes, my decisions, and I felt proud. A week before, Mom had already demanded, “I want to meet him. In person. At my house. At my table. I have questions.” I told her, “Mom, I’ll decide when it’s the right time,” and surprisingly, she backed off—for once. I should’ve known better.

That night, Theo showed up with tulips, non-alcoholic wine because he knew I’d had a long day, and a cake from my favorite bakery. My heart melted a little. We talked, we laughed, and everything felt so natural. As soft music played and candles flickered around us, he took my hand gently and said, “After all the heartbreaks I’ve been through, I never thought I’d feel this way again… and then you came along.” And right at that magical moment, we heard it—“ACHOO!”—from inside the closet. Theo froze and looked at me in confusion. “Are we not alone?” he asked. I rushed over and opened the closet door. “Mom?!” I gasped. There she was, sitting in the dark wearing a headlamp, holding a thermos like she was on a stakeout.

“I was just making sure,” she said. “I was listening, evaluating. I didn’t interfere!” Theo, somehow still calm, smiled and said, “Good evening. I’m Theo. Nice to meet you.” That’s when the interrogation began. Theo looked at me like he was hoping it was some kind of joke. I looked back at him to silently say, “Nope, this is real.” Then Mom stood up and declared, “Now, a test.” “A test?” Theo echoed, bewildered. “Wipe the table. No streaks. If you leave one mark—you’re not good enough for her.” “Mom, stop!” I protested, beyond embarrassed. But Theo didn’t even flinch. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a sponge, and wiped the table perfectly. She examined it closely, then nodded in approval before dramatically handing him a piece of paper. He read it, his smile disappeared, and without saying anything, he handed it to me and left. It was a list titled “Rules for Dating My Daughter,” and it read: Have a job. Understand I don’t like you. I am EVERYWHERE. Make her cry, I make you cry. Be home 30 minutes early. SHE is my princess, not your conquest. I don’t mind going to jail. Three days went by. No texts. No calls. Finally, I messaged him: “I’m sorry for how that night went. You didn’t deserve that.” He saw it—but didn’t reply. Then came a knock on my door. My heart pounded as I opened it and saw Theo holding flowers. “Come on,” he said. “I planned a date—for you and your mom.” First, we went to his lecture on love in literature. Mom and I sat in the back while he spoke passionately. She whispered, “If he thinks a lecture will win me over, he’s wrong.” I stayed quiet, knowing he had more planned. Next was a peaceful boat ride on a lake with a plaid blanket, fresh strawberries, and her favorite tea—he remembered. She didn’t smile much, but I saw the change in her eyes. That evening, he cooked us dinner at his home, which was warm, cozy, and smelled like citrus and cedar. As he grilled steaks on the terrace, Mom leaned back and finally relaxed. She nudged me and whispered, “You know… he’s not so bad, honey.” Then Theo returned with two plates, knelt on one knee, and asked, “Will you marry me?” Mom leaned in and said, “Sweetheart… I’d have said yes already.” Through happy tears, I laughed and said, “Yes. Of course—yes!”