Emily and Thomas divorced when their daughter Charlotte turned two years old. Thomas simply couldnt bear living with his wife any longer. She was never satisfied, always angry. Some days she complained he didnt earn enough, others that he worked too much and never helped with their child.
Thomas tried his best to please her, but nothing worked. Friends suggested Emily might have postnatal depression and should see a doctor, but Thomas doubted it. Shed never been easygoing, even before Charlotte was born. Now, it was as if shed lost all joy.
He couldnt remember the last time hed seen Emily smile. Even when she was with Charlotte, irritation twisted her face, making him want to scoop up their daughter and run.
He gently suggested therapy once, but she exploded.
“You think Im mad, do you? That Im some hysterical mess? How could anyone stay sane living with you?”
After that, Thomas had enough. He filed for divorce. In retaliation, Emily took Charlotte and moved to another town, refusing child support and cutting off contact.
Thomas searched for a while but eventually gave up. He loved Charlotte dearly but couldnt face the storm of Emilys bitterness.
Emily, meanwhile, stewed in anger. She blamed Thomas for everything, convinced hed left her for someone else. That resentment soon poisoned her relationship with Charlotte.
She never hit her daughter, but the girl grew up in a cloud of misery. Birthdays went unmarked.
“Mum, guess what? Oliver had cake at nursery today because it was his birthday! Will I get one too?”
“Dont be silly. Birthdays are nonsense. Im the one who did all the work bringing you into the worldI should be celebrated. Now stop asking.”
Christmas was just another day. The only kindness came when Father Christmas visited nursery, handing out sweets. At home, they ate plain meals and went to bed early.
Laughter annoyed Emily. If Charlotte giggled at cartoons, shed snap, “Stop that ridiculous noise! Theres nothing funny.”
So Charlotte learned happiness was wrong. Smiling was wrong. Life was meant to be grim.
No one knew if Emily had a mental illnessshe refused therapy, calling it a waste. “People dont live for fun,” shed say. “Only fools are always cheerful.”
Charlotte first tasted sweets at nursery during another childs birthday. That night, she dreamed of buying a whole bag for herself. The thought made her smileuntil she remembered she wasnt allowed.
What might have become of her if Emily had lived longer? Each year, she grew crueller. Neighbours avoided her; old ladies muttered about evil spirits.
Then, Emily fell ill. By the time an ambulance took her to hospital, it was too late. A neighbour cared for Charlotte until social services tracked down Thomas.
Hed remarried by then. When the call came, he told his wife, Eleanor, he wouldnt abandon Charlotte. She agreedshed seen how much hed suffered.
Charlotte, terrified, expected worse than life with her mother.
Thomas brought a plush rabbit and a box of chocolates when he arrived. The sweets won her overFather Christmas gave treats, so kind people must too.
The neighbour whispered the truth. “That woman never smiled, never said hello. Poor Charlotte was always so timid.”
Guilt gnawed at Thomas. He should have fought harder.
After the funeral, they took Charlotte home.
“Your birthdays soon,” Thomas said gently. “What would you like?”
She stared, baffled. “We never celebrated. Mum said I didnt deserve it.”
His throat tightened. “Thats not true. Birthdays are special.”
“Can I have chocolates, then? The ones in shiny wrappers?”
He nodded, fighting tears.
Later, alone with Eleanor, he poured a glass of wine. “She asked for sweets. Just sweets.”
Eleanor hugged him. “Dont blame Emily. Life punished her enough.”
“I blame myself. I convinced myself they were fine.”
“Well give her the best birthday,” Eleanor promised. “For all the ones she missed.”
That week, Charlotte discovered happiness. Thomas and Eleanor laughedloudly! Breakfast wasnt just porridge; there were pancakes, fruit, yoghurt. Best of all, chocolates sat in a jar, free for the taking. (“Just not too many,” Thomas warned.)
On her birthday, she woke to balloons, a cake with candles, and a trip to the funfair. Seven presents waitedone for each lost year.
Children adapt quickly to kindness. Within weeks, Charlotte laughed freely, hugged without fear. School brought new joys.
A year later, she called Eleanor “Mum” for the first time. Because love, not blood, makes a family.
