14October2025
Dear Diary,
The day began with a frantic call from Mother. Emma, love, could you transfer at least ten pounds? The electric companys warning me theyll cut the power off. How will I manage without light? she wailed, voice trembling through the receiver.
I stared at the same patch of wallpaper above the kitchen sink, my face a mask, my fingers tightening around the phone. No, I said simply, and hung up.
Across the table, Irene, my motherinlaw, watched me with a puzzled expression. Shed heard every word of the conversation and now held a silent question in her eyes.
Nothing special, I brushed off. Were not the sort to help each other. I pushed my halfeaten toast aside.
She frowned, dabbed her lips with a napkin, and asked, Is that how you treat your own parents? After all, shes your mother Her tone held genuine bewilderment.
I met her gaze and replied firmly, Only when they treat you worse than a stranger on the street. The room fell quiet, save for the ticking clock on the wall. I turned my head away, adding, Sorry, I didnt mean to be harsh.
Irene shook her head. No, no. Im just surprised. You never speak about your relationship with your mother.
I lifted my teacup, took a sip of the lukewarm brew, and set it down. Its a long story.
She encouraged me, We have time, if youre willing to share. I paused, gathering my thoughts.
It all began when I was fresh out of secondary school, dreaming of a university place. I pictured that scorching summer morning, sitting on a cramped desk in our tiny twobedroom flat in York, nervously refreshing the universitys admissions page.
When my surname finally appeared on the list of successful applicants, I screamed with joy, ran through the flat, calling every friend to tell them the news. Its brilliant! I thought, floating on cloud nine.
A week later, the celebration turned to dread. The doctor told me I was seriously ill and needed urgent surgerya procedure that would cost a small fortune. I spun the teaspoon in my hand, recalling how my mother owned a onebedroom flat shed inherited from a distant aunt. Shed never lived there; she let it out to tenants. In my panic, I saw that flat as a lifeline: sell it, pay for the operation, keep my university spot.
I begged Mum to sell it, I whispered, remembering the tears that had soaked my cheeks that night at the kitchen table. Mum, please! If I dont get the surgery Ill lose my place and have to postpone my studies for at least a year!
She stood at the stove, stirring the soup, and without looking at me snapped, No. That flat is my inheritance, my money. Im not going to spend it on you.
I raised my voice, But its my health! My future!
She turned sharply, ladle in hand, eyes narrowing, And what about my future? I still have years before I retire. Ill wait for NHS treatment! Im not selling the flat for this!
I flailed, But the treatment could take years!
She shrugged, Then youll wait. Nothing will happen to you.
I fell silent, a lump forming in my throat. Irene asked gently, And then?
I smiled bitterly. I lost two years waiting for NHS treatment, lost my grantfunded spot, and after the operation I spent months recovering.
She whispered, Poor dear.
I continued, I had to find work, take a contract, rent a room. I studied parttime, worked days, and finally moved out of Mums house.
I remembered the day I left. Mum stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Leaving? To whom?
To a friend, I said, packing without looking back.
She shouted, Ungrateful! I raised you, fed you, and you
I zipped my suitcase, turned to her and asked, When I needed you, where were you?
She snapped, You just wanted my money! To fleece me!
I walked past her, voice steady, Goodbye, mum.
She yelled after me, Dont ever come back! and slammed the front door.
From that point we barely spoke. I built my own life, finished university, met Jamesyour sonand were now saving for our own home, even if were still renting. Irene, youve been a true blessing.
She nodded, Youve both done well. Im proud.
I later learned that Mum sold that onebedroom flat soon after I left. She splurged on a few overseas trips and pricey items, then was forced to move into a twobedroom flat that she cant even afford after being made redundant. With only five years left before pension, shes now calling me for cash.
I looked at Irene and asked, If you were in my shoes, would you send money to a woman like that?
She gasped, covering her mouth, I never imagined your mum like this. No wonder she missed the wedding. She embraced me, Dont worry, love. Gods plan is bigger; let her stay in the past.
Tears welled, but I managed a smile. Thank you, Irene, for caring.
She brushed my hair back, Dont be so formal. Call me Mum.
I nodded, unable to speak through the swirl of emotion.
That evening James came home from work, finding me trembling, my head resting on his mothers shoulder. He dropped his keys on the side table, alarmed, Whats wrong?
Mum, smiling over my shoulder, said, Alls well, love. Just a hearttoheart chat.
I clung tighter to her, feeling for the first time in years a genuine motherly warmth that Id missed since childhood.
James sat beside us, pulled us both into a hug, and whispered, Im glad youve found peace.
Later, after the house had quieted, I whispered to James, Your mum shes incredible.
He squeezed me tighter, I know. Thats why I turned out so wonderful.
I nudged him playfully, Dont get cocky!
He pretended to be offended, What? I chose a brilliant wife, after all.
I rested my head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. Thank you, I murmured.
For what? he asked.
For your family. For making it feel like my own.
He kissed my forehead, You deserve the best.
Lying there in the dark, I reflected on how the bitterness of my own mother had steered me toward a new familyone that finally gave me the unconditional love Id always craved.
The phone on the nightstand buzzed with a new message from Mum, demanding money. I stared at the screen, then switched the phone off and held James tighter. The past no longer held power over me. I turned on my side, closed my eyes, and let the promise of tomorrowa day with the family that truly loves mesettle into my heart.
