She knew his mother meant well. That was the phrase she repeated to herself, like a mantra, every time the woman offered unsolicited advice about how they should manage their finances, or decorate their apartment, or raise the children they did not yet have. She meant well. She was just trying to help. She had always been close to her son, and that was a good thing, a sign of a healthy family, not a red flag. She meant well.

But meaning well did not make the intrusions less exhausting. Meaning well did not stop the slow erosion of her sense that their home was actually theirs. Meaning well did not make her boyfriend step up and draw a line. He had a hundred ways of excusing his mother's behavior. She is just old fashioned. She does not have anyone else. She means well. And he had exactly one way of responding to her requests for boundaries. He told her she was being unfair. He told her she was trying to come between him and his family. He told her she was the one with the problem.