In a quiet village nestled in the English countryside, where life moved at a gentle pace and old brick cottages held generations of family secrets, there was an unspoken expectation: a mother must devote herself entirely to her children, abandoning her own dreams. But Helen, a mother of two grown daughters, defied this belief. Her decision to accept her sister’s inheritance turned her life upside down and stirred outrage among those who had always seen her as nothing more than a selfless shadow.
Helen had married young, full of hope. She bore two daughters, Emily and Charlotte, but happiness was fleeting. Her husband, a scoundrel, vanished three years after Charlotte’s birth, leaving Helen to raise the girls alone. Single motherhood was gruelling. She denied herself every luxury, working tirelessly to provide even the barest necessities. Yet some struggles—like owning a home—remained out of reach.
The family squeezed into a tiny cottage on the village outskirts, sustaining themselves with a modest garden. As the girls grew, they married and moved to London, renting flats of their own. Helen stayed behind. Her health faltered, forcing early retirement. Around that time, her elder sister, Margaret, fell gravely ill. Without hesitation, Helen moved to the city to care for her in a spacious flat near Westminster. What she saw there stunned her.
Margaret, unburdened by family, had lived for herself. She spent her money on trips to Paris, West End shows, and designer dresses, never fretting over the future. Even to Helen, she showed casual indifference: “If you don’t care for me, dear, I’ll find someone else. Then the flat won’t be yours.” Helen was shocked by such selfishness, yet living with Margaret, she slowly grasped her sister’s philosophy. When Margaret passed, leaving her the flat, Helen felt as though she’d awakened. For the first time, she asked herself: what if she lived for herself?
She remained in the city, surrounded by bustling streets and glittering lights. For the first time in decades, she felt alive. Helen visited art galleries, strolled through Hyde Park, even enrolled in dance classes. But her happiness became a thorn in her daughters’ sides.
Emily and Charlotte had grown accustomed to their mother always putting them first. Emily, weighed down by a hefty mortgage, expected Helen to sell the flat and share the money to ease her debt. Charlotte, pregnant with her third child and stuck in a rented house, dreamed of buying a modest flat with the same funds. Both had made plans without consulting Helen. Yet she refused to sell. She chose instead to stay in the city and live the life she’d never dared imagine.
“I’m tired of sacrificing myself,” she told them when they demanded answers. “I want to live for me, just this once.”
The daughters were furious. They called her selfish, ungrateful. “You were always there for us—now you’re abandoning us for your own pleasures!” Emily shouted. Charlotte, wiping tears, added, “How can you think only of yourself when my children are crammed into some rented box?”
Helen stayed silent, though her heart ached. She remembered skipping meals so her girls could wear new school uniforms, sewing late into the night for spare pennies. Now she was accused of betrayal. The cruelest part? Neither daughter had helped care for Margaret. They only reappeared after her death, scenting inheritance.
“Why have you forgotten us and your grandchildren? How dare you enjoy your life in the city?” Emily spat before slamming the door.
Charlotte stopped calling. The daughters erased their mother from their lives, branding her “self-absorbed.” Helen was alone, yet she didn’t regret her choice. For the first time, she felt free. She walked along the Thames, sipped coffee in cosy cafés, smiled at strangers. Her eyes, once dulled by exhaustion, now sparkled with life.
Could Helen be blamed? She had given her daughters all she could—yet in the end, she chose herself. The daughters, accustomed to her sacrifices, couldn’t accept her right to happiness. Who was truly selfish—the mother who dared to live, or the daughters who demanded more? Helen knew the answer, though it didn’t soften the pain of losing her family. She could only hope that one day, her daughters might understand: even a mother has a right to her own heart.
