“Mum, why didnt you invite me to your birthday?”
She clutched the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. “You know why,” her mother sighed. “Ever since you left the family your father cant forgive you. And Dimawell, hes always sided with Svetlana, who never thought much of you anyway.”
Katie stood before the mirror, smoothing the eyeshadow on her lids. A rare evening without the childrenher friends had convinced her to go out, to clear her head. The divorce wasnt final yet, but she couldnt bear living under the same roof as her husband any longer.
“Youre the one tearing this family apart,” her father had said.
“You always make everything difficult,” her brother echoed.
Shed long since stopped explaining. What was the point? Male solidarity would never let them take her side.
But it stung most coming from her motherthe one who told her no one was perfect, that she was too idealistic. No one understood what she was unhappy about, which could only mean one thing: something was wrong with *her*.
The phone buzzed. It was Lena, shouting excitedly into the receiver:
“Ready? The taxis outside!”
“Be right down.”
The children were asleepher grandmother had agreed to watch them. Not her own mother, who was still punishing her for wanting the divorce, but her mother-in-law, the only one who didnt seem to despise her.
“Are you sure youll manage?” Katie asked on her way out. “Call me if anything happensdont hesitate!”
“Go on, love,” the older woman waved her off. “Theyre not babies. You deserve a night off once in a while.”
She nodded, though something inside her clenched. *Once in a while.* Three years had passed since shed been anywhere but school plays and parent-teacher meetings.
The club was loud, trendy. Katies hands trembled slightlyshe hadnt been out in so long, hadnt danced, hadnt felt like anything but a mother, a wife, or the failure whod thrown away a “perfect family.”
The music pounded, lights flashed, laughter and the mingled scents of beer and expensive perfume filled the air.
“Finally!” Lena grabbed her wrist. “We started without you!”
Katie forced a smile and downed her first drink in one go. God, it had been so long.
“Dancing?”
“Maybe later, I”
Then she saw them.
At the large table in the middle of the roomher brother Daniel, his wife Sophie in a glittering dress, her father with a glass of champagne, Aunt Lucy, Uncle Victor her whole family.
“What” Her voice vanished.
Lena followed her gaze. “Oh, look! Isnt that your lot? What a coincidence!”
*Coincidence?*
A cold click in her mind. Wednesday. Her mothers birthday.
*”Mum, your birthdays on Wednesday, isnt it?”* shed asked over the weekend. *”We always celebrated on Saturdays. Same this year?”*
Her mother had avoided her eyes. *”Oh, who cares about Saturdays? Not this time, love. Too busy.”*
*Busy.* Busy planning a party without her. She was the problem, the one who ruined everything.
“You alright?” Lena frowned.
Katie stepped back. “I I need to go home.”
“*What?* You just got here!”
But she was already walking away, heart hammering, hot tears burning. None of her family noticed.
In the taxi, she pressed her forehead to the window and let herself crysilently, without sound. They didnt want her. Maybe they never had.
The car stopped outside her flat, but she didnt move. Everything inside her burnedshame, hurt, the endless question: *Whats wrong with me?*
Before she could slam the door, her phone buzzed. A message from Daniel: *”Hi. Mums birthday today. Did you wish her happy birthday?”*
She sat on the bench outside, typed back: *”I was there. You didnt see me.”* She closed her eyes, breathed, deleted it.
Another buzz. Her mother.
“Hello?” Her voice shook.
“Are you alright?” Her mother whispered, as if afraid of being overheard. “Daniel said you werent answering”
“I was at the club.”
A pause.
“Which club?”
“The one youre all at right now.”
Silence. Then muffled noise, as if her mother had covered the receiver.
“You you saw us?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Longer.
“Mum why?” Her grip on the phone tightened.
“You know why,” her mother sighed. “You left the family. Your father cant forgive you. And Danielwell, hes always been on Sophies side, and she never liked you.”
“And you?”
Silence.
The answer was clear enough.
At home, the children slept. Her mother-in-law took one look at her face and said nothingjust poured tea with honey.
“Drink. Youre shaking.”
Katie took the cup and burst into tears like a child.
“They they were at the club. Threw a big party. Without me. On purpose.”
Her mother-in-law squeezed her hand.
“Thats rotten. Cry it out. Then ask yourselfdo you *want* to be around people like that? Are they worth your tears?”
“Hard to say. I think Ive been alone for a long time. Now its just official,” Katie whispered. “Why *are* you on my side? Ive always wanted to ask.”
“I know my son, love. Saw from the start you two were cut from different cloth. But you tried so hardthat deserves respect. And you gave me two beautiful grandchildren.”
Katie smiled. She *had* triedtoo hard. Shed filed for divorce after just eighteen months of marriage.
She was exhausted from bending, compromising. Her husband was a soldierhome only to rest.
Shed been twenty. Shed wanted lightness, laughternot the endless performance of Happy Housewife, the woman who had it all together.
But everyone said the same thing: *Somethings wrong with you if youd walk away from a man like that.* Not him, not the marriage*her*. She was the problem.
So shed swallowed it. Learned recipes from her mother-in-law, had two children. Still, she couldnt force herself to love him.
Life was hard enough without squeezing yourself into someone elses shape. He wasnt cruel. He just never saw her, never understood her restlessness.
Ten years later, they had nothing left but the children.
The morning after the party, a text from her father:
*”Youve upset your mother again.”*
She didnt reply. Instead, she opened her laptop, messaged Alice, and searched for train tickets. She needed to leave. Just for a while.
Two weeks later, she stood at the station with three suitcases and two children.
“Mummy, where are we going?” her eldest asked.
“On holiday!” For the first time in years, Katie smiled.
“Are we coming back soon?”
“I dont know!”
The train carried them southto the sea, to warm winds, to salt air that might wash away the pain, the guilt, the lump in her throat that had been there for years.
The children, confused at first, now pressed against the windowthis was an adventure.
“Mum, are we really going to live by the sea?” Jamies eyes shone.
“Yes.”
Shed bought tickets to a little coastal town where shed spent summers before marriage. Alice, an old friend, had written when the divorce began: *”If you need to escape, come. Theres room.”*
Alice met them at the stationhugged her tight, no questions.
“Itll be alright,” was all she said.
And somehow, Katie believed her.
The first days were strange: waking to silence (no calls, no accusations), drinking coffee while watching the sea. The children ran on the beach, shrieking with delight.
Within two weeks, her first job offerAlices neighbours needed an English tutor. She was fluent.
A month later, the call came. Her mother.
“Have you forgotten us?” Her voice tremblednot with anger, but something else.
“No, Mum. I just needed to leave.”
A pause.
“We we were wrong. Im sorry.”
Katie smiled.
“Im not angry. But I need time.”
“And the children?”
She looked out the window. Jamie and Lizzie were building a sandcastle.
“Theyre happy.”
She never went back.
Ten years on, she still lives in that seaside town, teaching Englishgroup classes, private lessons. Word of mouth keeps her busy.
Lizzie goes to art school, dreams of being a criticher essay on local painters was printed in the town paper.
Jamie, fifteen now, brings home poor maths grades but wins swimming competitions
