I woke at five in the morning, the sky outside just beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
Beside me, James snored softly, his arm flung over his headhis usual pose for someone who never quite caught up on sleep. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, I flicked on the light and pulled everything I needed from the fridge: sponge layers, fresh cream, ripe strawberries. Today was Liams fifth birthday, and I wanted it to feel truly magical.
A bit early for this, isnt it? came a voice from the doorway. My husband stood there, squinting against the light, his hair dishevelled.
Go back to sleep, I said with a smile, creaming the butter. If I dont start now, Ill never finish before the guests arrive.
He nodded but didnt leave. Instead, he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pressed his cheek to my neck.
Sometimes I think I dont deserve you, he murmured.
I chuckled, setting the bowl aside.
Oh, because of the promotion? Now youre the big boss, and Im still just a primary school teacher.
Emily, stop, he said, turning me to face him. Today, we tell everyone. Itll be the best surprise.
I nodded, swallowing the flutter in my chest. Six years of marriage, and his touch still made my breath catch. Though once, no one had believed wed make it this far.
By eleven, the cake was assembled, bunting hung, presents tucked neatly into the cupboard. The doorbell rang. I took a steadying breath, smoothed a loose strand of hair, and opened the door.
Margaret! Youre early!
My mother-in-law stood there, clutching a large wrapped box. Her immaculate blow-dry (weekly salon visitsnon-negotiable) and flawless makeup starkly contrasted my dressing gown and messy bun.
Emily, darling, she air-kissed my cheek. I came early to help. You understand how important it is for everything to be just right.
Silently, I took her coat and led her to the kitchen. Helping, in her world, meant critiquing every choiceespecially those that failed to meet her standards of taste and status.
Oh, whats this? She pointed to the cake Id just taken from the fridge. You made it yourself? Why not order from Harrods?
I wanted to do it myself, I said calmly, setting out plates. Liam loves when I bake.
But hes a childwhat does he know? She wrinkled her nose. And the guests? What will they think? Emily, dont take this the wrong way, but Harrods is *class*. This is… well, homemade.
I said nothing, focusing on laying out forks. Six years of these comments. Six years of implying I wasnt good enough.
Wheres James? She glanced around. Still in bed? Like father, like son.
He took Liam to the park. Theyll be back soon.
She opened the cupboard, pulled out a mug, and grimaced.
Still using these cheap ones? I gave you that Wedgwood set at Christmas. Didnt you like it?
The set, worth nearly my monthly salary, was safely stored awaytoday wasnt the day for fragile china.
Every gathering was the same. Every visit, a test.
I remembered our weddingsmall, quiet. Margaret had leaned into Jamess ear and whispered, You couldve done better. She thought I hadnt heard.
Six years later, had I grown used to it? No. But Id learned to swallow the hurtlike bitter medicine, chased with a smile. For James. For Liam. For peace.
The front door banged open, and laughter spilled in.
Mum, look! Liam burst into the kitchen, waving a kite. James followed, arms laden with bags.
Granny! Liam hurled himself at Margaret, who instantly brightened, scooping him up.
My darling! Look how big you are! Heres my present, she nodded to the box.
Wow! Can I open it now?
After the candles, love. Thats the tradition.
But M-u-um! he whined.
Emily, must you be so rigid? Margaret cut in. James always opened gifts straight away as a boy.
James cleared his throat.
Mum, lets stick to tradition. Liam, patienceguests will be here soon.
The doorbell rang again, ending the debate. The flat filled with family and friends: my parents with a homemade pie, colleagues, children shrieking with excitement. Mum slipped into the kitchen to help; Dad settled in the corner with the paper. Quiet, unassumingthe opposite of Margaret, whose presence seemed to fill every inch of the room.
Susan, hows your blood pressure? Margaret boomed at my mother. At your age, its vital.
Mum smiled politely. She was fifty-fivethree years younger than Margaret, who never missed a chance to highlight it.
Fine, thank you, Mum said softly, chopping carrots.
Still at the factory, then? Must be exhausting.
My parents had worked there their whole livesordinary engineers. Not like Margaret, the former department head with her connections.
The party carried on. Kids darted about; adults chatted over cake. I flitted between rooms, making sure everyone had what they needed. James helped but mostly mingledhis promotion was a triumph, though wed saved the announcement for later.
Emily, change the boys clothes, Margaret grabbed my arm. I saw the perfect outfit in John Lewis. If youd shopped with me, hed look like a proper birthday boy.
I glanced at Liamjeans and a T-shirt, comfy and familiar.
Hes fine, Margaret.
Fine isnt *presentable*, she snapped. In my day
Mum, enough, James cut in. He looks great.
She pursed her lips and stalked off. I shot James a grateful look, but he was already deep in conversation.
Mum, why is Granny always cross? Liam whispered, tugging my sleeve.
Behind us, Margaret laughed loudly, complaining about useless help these days.
Shes not cross, sweetheart, I crouched to his level. She just wants things *right*.
Whats right?
Good question. I wished I knew.
Cake time! I called, checking the clock. Liam, make a wish!
Everyone gathered as James hit play on his phone. I carried out the caketwo tiers, chocolate ganache, raspberry filling, Liams favourite.
Wow! His eyes lit up.
Hmm. Homely, Margaret muttered, loud enough for the neighbours. Harrods wouldve done figures, sparkles…
I swallowed the sting. Today wasnt about her.
Make a wish, darling, I said, setting the cake before him, five candles flickering.
They sang Happy Birthday. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, blewall the flames vanished. Cheers erupted.
Presents! James announced.
Liam tore through wrapping paper: Lego from Grandma and Grandpa, books from friends, a toy garage from us. ThenMargarets grand offering.
A tablet! Liam shrieked, pulling out the sleek box. A real one! Thanks, Granny!
Margaret beamed like shed won the lottery.
Only the best for my grandson, she said, eyeing my parents. Some cant afford it, but children need modern tools.
Mum looked down, as if her humble gift suddenly shrank. My chest ached, but I kept slicing cake, hands trembling slightly.
Whod like to say a few words? James raised his glass.
Allow me. Margaret stood, adjusting her dress. Today, we celebrate five years of Liam. Im so proud of the boy hes becoming.
She paused, relishing the attention.
I raised James alone. No husband. Did everything myself. And look at him nowsuccessful, respected. All thanks to *proper* upbringing.
Her voice waverednot with tears, but performance.
Now, watching Liam grow… it warms my heart. But not everything pleases me.
The room tensed.
The parenting choices, for one, she stared at me. Skimping on what matters. I always told James: its not just who *you* are, but who raises your child.
Mum, stop, James said, but she ploughed on.
No, Ive stayed silent six years. Six years watching someone take advantage of your kindness, your position.
Guests shifted uncomfortably.
Margaret, maybe not today? I said quietly. This is Liams day.
Exactly! she snapped. *My grandsons* day! And Ill speak the truth. Emily, you may resent me, but to me, youre NOBODY! Just some
