Your son is so dullnothing good will ever come of him!”
Emily froze in the doorway, nearly dropping the cake from her hands. Her mother glared at her, disapproval etched into every line of her face, as if Emily had committed some unforgivable sin.
“Mum, what are you talking about?” Emily set the cake on the table. “Whats this got to do with Alfie?”
“Its got everything to do with him!” Her mothers voice sharpened. “Hes in Year Seven and still at a regular comprehensive schoolno specialisations, no advanced programmes. How is he supposed to get into a decent university? How is he supposed to make something of himself?”
Emily bit her lip. The conversation was spiralling down the same worn path, and a hot knot of injustice tightened in her chest.
“Mum, Alfies doing well. He gets top marks in most subjects. Hes got a maths tutorwants to go into programming, like his dad.”
“Exactly!” Her mother threw her hands up. “Programming! Stuck behind a screen like your David. A regular job, a regular salary. And what about you? A teacher! A tutor! Barely scraping by. Do you even feed that child properly?”
Emilys fists clenched. Each word cut deeper, striking every raw nerve. No, she and David werent wealthythey budgeted carefullybut Alfie was happy.
“Were fine. And Alfies happy.”
“Happy!” Her mother scoffed and stalked to the window. “Now, take your brothers boythats a real treasure. Olivers at a grammar school with a specialism in French. Can you imagine? French since primary! Fluent already. Your brother and Clairetheyre doing it right. Investing in their child, not cutting corners.”
Emily listened in silence. Her brother had always been the favouritestarted a small business, bought a bigger house, while his wife stayed home with their son. And every time, her mother made sure to remind her how they fell short.
“Olivers such a bright boy,” her mother went on, softer now. “Hes going places. Your brother says theyre sending him abroad for language immersion. At thirteen! Thats what proper parenting looks likereal prospects. Not this mediocre comprehensive nonsense.”
Emily stepped closer. Her mothers shoulders were rigid, her expression unyielding.
“Mum, I know you want the best for your grandchildren. But Alfie isnt less than Oliver. Theyre just on different paths.”
“Different paths!” Her mother spun around. “One path leads upto success. The other? To a life of struggle and obscurity. Is that what you want for your son? For him to live in poverty?”
Something inside Emily twisted.
“Were not poor. We live within our means. And Alfie will grow into a good mankind, hardworking, intelligent.”
“Hardworking!” Her mother snorted. “Thats not enough in this world, love. You need connections, money, prestige. What does Alfie have? A bog-standard school and a mother who barely makes ends meet.”
Emily turned away. The cake sat between them, lovingly decorated with fresh berries. Now it felt pointless.
“Mum, Im not arguing. Were raising him how we think is right. And hes happy.”
“His future is what matters!” Her mother stepped closer. “Youre ruining him with your complacency. Your brother understands. Hes making sure Oliver becomes someone. You? Youre just drifting.”
Emily shook her head. Arguing was useless. Her mothers mind was made up, and nothing would change it.
“Fine, Mum. Lets just have lunch. David and Alfie will be here soon.”
As expected, the meal was tense. Her mother waxed lyrical about Olivers achievements, how proud her brother was. Alfie ate quietly, glancing at his mother. Emily smiled at himreassurance in the face of the storm.
After that day, she knew: contact with her mother would have to be limited. The comparisons hurt too much.
She still called on birthdays and holidays, but family gatherings stopped. Her mother sulked, but Emily held firm. She had to shield her son.
Years passed. Alfie grew, studied, thrived in coding. Occasionally, Emily heard updates from her motherOliver had graduated with honours, got into a prestigious university (though not without his fathers connections).
Alfie graduated too. Got into a solid polytechnic on merit, no favours. By his third year, he was working at a small IT firm. Emily was proud. David was proud. Her mother still only talked about Oliver.
More years slipped by. The children were nearly thirty. At her mothers birthday party, the family gatheredher brother and Claire, Oliver too: tall, handsome, with an air of careless charm. Hed quit his job after uni, said he wanted to focus on music. His father bankrolled the equipment. Two years on, the band went nowhere. Oliver still lived at home, unemployed, directionless.
Emily watched as her mother fawned over himhugging him, stroking his hair, asking about his music. He answered lazily, scrolling through his phone. But her mother didnt see his apathy. To her, Oliver was still golden.
Alfie sat with his wife, Lily. Newly married, she was four months along. He worked for a major tech company now, earning well, saving for a home. But her mother barely glanced at him.
Emily saw David tense beside her. Lily shot Alfie a worried look. But he just smiled, squeezing her hand.
The evening dragged. Her mother regaled guests with tales of Olivers imminent fame. He nodded, bored. Emily said nothing.
Finally, it ended. David, Alfie, and Lily excused themselves, waiting outside. Emily was wrapping her scarf when her mother approached.
“Emily, wait. I need to say something.”
Emily stilled. Her mothers voice was low, deliberate.
“Your Alfies so dull, love. Grey. Ordinary. Like you and David. Theres no spark in him. Olivernow, hes special. A genius. Hell show them all one day. But your boy? Hes just living. Working. Married, soon a father. Theres nothing remarkable about that. Hes like millions of others.”
Emily stared at her. Something inside her shattered.
She exhaled slowly, meeting her mothers eyes.
“You know, Mum, I used to think you just wanted me to be better. To push Alfie harder, invest more in him. I thought your criticism came from loveto make me try harder.”
Her mother frowned, but Emily raised a hand.
“But its simpler than that. You never loved my son. And all these years, youve made sure I knewthrough comparisons, through praise for Oliver. You didnt want Alfie to succeed. You just wanted me to know hed never be enough.”
Her mother paled. Emily fastened her coat.
“But heres the truth. My son is brilliant. Kind, hardworking, decent. Hell be an amazing father. Because I never let him learn he was unloved by you. I protected him from your poison, Mum. I made sure he grew up happy.”
Her mother gaped at her. Emily picked up her bag.
“Keep your opinions about us to yourself. Im done listening. I spent too many years begging for your love. No more. Live how you want. Love who you want. Im out of this game. Ill have a grandchild soonand Ill love them the way a grandmother should.”
She walked out, shutting the door behind her. David pulled her into a hug at the car. Alfie smiled. Lily reached for her hand.
Emily leaned back in her seat, an unfamiliar calm settling over her. The weight was gone. No more pretending. No more proving.
It had taken decades, but she was free.
She had everything that mattered. A real family.
What more did a person need?
