“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. “After you left the family your father cant forgive you. And Tom well, hes always taken Sophies side, and she doesnt think much of you either.”
Emily stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her eyeshadow. A rare night outher friends had persuaded her to go, just to clear her head. The divorce wasnt final, but she couldnt stand living under the same roof as her husband anymore.
“Youre the one tearing this family apart,” her father had said.
“You always overcomplicate things,” her brother chimed in.
Shed long since stopped explaining herself. What was the point? Male solidarity meant theyd never take her side.
But it hurt most from her motherbeing told no ones perfect, that she was too idealistic. No one seemed to grasp why she was unhappy. And that meant, in their eyes, something was wrong with her.
Her phone buzzed. Lucys voice chirped excitedly through the receiver:
“Ready? The taxis outside!”
“Coming now.”
The children were already asleepher mother-in-law had agreed to watch them. Not her own mother, who was still punishing her for wanting a divorce, but her husbands mum, the only one who didnt seem to blame her.
“Are you sure youll be alright?” Emily asked at the door. “Call me if anything happens, dont hesitate!”
“Of course, go on!” The older woman waved her off. “Theyre not babies. You deserve one night a year to breathe.”
She nodded, but something twisted inside her. One night a year. She hadnt been out in three, unless you counted school plays and parent-teacher meetings.
The club was loud, trendy. Emily felt a flicker of nervesshe hadnt danced in ages, hadnt felt like just a woman, not a mum, a wife, or the failure whod walked out on a “perfect family.”
Music thumped, neon lights flashed. Laughter, strangers brushing past, the scent of beer and expensive perfume.
“There you are!” Lucy grabbed her hand. “We started without you!”
Emily smiled and downed her first drink in one go. God, it had been so long.
“Fancy a dance?”
“Maybe later, I”
Then she saw them.
At a big table in the middle of the roomher brother Tom, his wife Sophie in a glittering dress, her father with a glass of champagne, Aunt Louise, Uncle Vic her entire family.
“What” Her voice vanished.
Lucy followed her gaze. “Oh, look! Isnt that your lot? What a coincidence!”
Coincidence?
Thenclick. Wednesday. Her mothers birthday.
“Mum, your birthdays Wednesday, right?” shed asked over the weekend. “We always celebrated on Saturday. Same this year?”
Her mother had avoided her eyes.
“Oh, who cares about dates? Lets skip it this year, love. Busy with things”
Things? Right. Things meant gathering without her. Celebrating. She was the outsider. The one who ruined everything.
“You alright?” Lucy frowned.
Emily stepped back. “Fine I need to go home.”
“What? You just got here!”
But she was already walking away, heart pounding, hot tears blurring her vision. None of her family even noticed.
In the taxi, she pressed her forehead to the window and finally let herself cry. Quietly, silently. They didnt want her there. Maybe they never had.
The cab stopped outside her flat, but she couldnt bring herself to get out. Everything inside burnedshame, hurt, that endless question: Whats wrong with me?
Before she could slam the door, her phone buzzed. A message from Tom:
“Hey. Mums birthday today. Did you wish her happy birthday?”
She sat on the bench outside, typed back:
“I was there. You didnt see me.” Then closed her eyes, breathed, deleted it.
Her phone buzzed again. Mum.
“Hello?” Her voice shook.
“Are you alright?” Her mother whispered, as if afraid of being overheard. “Tom said you werent replying”
“I was at the club.”
Pause.
“Which club?”
“The one youre all at right now.”
Silence. Then muffled chatter, like shed covered the receiver.
“You you saw us?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Longer.
“Mum why?” Her grip on the phone whitened her fingers.
“You know why,” her mother sighed. “After you left your father cant forgive you. And Tomwell, hes always sided with Sophie, and she doesnt approve of you.”
“And you?”
Silence.
The answer was clear enough.
Inside, the children slept. Her mother-in-law took one look at her face and didnt askjust poured tea with honey.
“Drink. Youre shaking.”
Emily took the mug and suddenly sobbed like a child.
“They were at the club. Threw a big party. Without me. On purpose. They dont want me there.”
Her mother-in-law squeezed her hand.
“Thats cruel. Cry it out. Then ask yourselfdo you want people like that in your life? Are they worth your tears?”
“Hard to say. Feels like Ive been alone for ages. Just official now,” Emily replied. “Why are you on my side? Ive wanted to ask.”
“I know my son, love. Knew from the start you two were mismatched. But you tried so hardthat deserves respect. And you gave me two wonderful grandchildren.”
Emily smiled. She had tried. For a year and a half, shed played the perfect wife before bolting.
Because she was tired. Tired of bending, compromising, pretending. Her husband was in the militaryhome only to rest.
At twenty, shed wanted lightness, not this endless performance of happy homemaker, the wife who kept it all together.
But from all sides, she heard the same thing: If you cant make it work with a man like that, somethings wrong with you. Not him, not the marriageher. Emily. Shed believed it.
Swallowed it. Learned her mother-in-laws recipes. Had two children. But nothing helpedshe never fit.
She realised life had enough battles without reshaping herself for a partner. Her husband wasnt cruel.
He just never saw her. Never understood her unrest. After ten years, all they shared were the kids.
The morning after the party, a text from her father:
“Youve upset your mother again.”
Emily didnt reply. Instead, she opened her laptop, messaged Alice, and searched for train tickets. She needed to leave. Even just for a while.
Two weeks later, she stood at the station with three suitcases and two children.
“Mum, where are we going?” her eldest asked.
“On holiday!” For the first time in years, Emily grinned.
“Will we come back soon?”
“I dont know!”
The train carried them southto the sea, to warm winds, to salt air that might wash it all away: the hurt, the guilt, the lump in her throat that had lingered for years.
The children, confused at first, soon pressed against the windowthis was an adventure.
“Mum, are we really living by the sea?” Jacks eyes shone.
“Really.”
Shed booked tickets to a tiny coastal town where shed once spent summers before marriage.
An old friend, Alice, had messaged when the separation began: “If you need to escape, come. Theres room.”
Alice met them at the stationhugged her tight, no questions.
“Itll get better,” was all she said.
And somehow, Emily 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 joy.
Within two weeks, her first job offerAlices neighbours needed a tutor for their son. Emilys English was flawless.
A month later, her mother called.
“Have you forgotten us?” Her voice trembled, but not with anger.
“No, Mum. I just needed to leave.”
Pause.
“We we were wrong. Im sorry.”
Emily smiled.
“Im not angry. But I need time.”
“The children?”
She glanced out the window. Jack and Lily were building a sandcastle.
“Theyre fine.”
She never went back.
Ten years on, she still lives in that coastal town, teaching Englishgroups, private lessons. Word of mouth keeps her busy.
Lily attends art school, dreams of being a curatorher essay on local painters even made the town paper.
Jack fifteen-year-old Jack fails maths but wins swimming competitions.
They arent perfect. But theyre happy. Free of the constant “youre not how
