“Mum, why didn’t you invite me to your birthday?” Her fingers tightened around the phone until her knuckles turned white. “You know why…” Her mother sighed. “The way you left the family… your father can’t forgive you. And Tim… well, hes always sided with Charlotte, who doesnt think much of you either.”
Katie stood before the mirror, adjusting her eyeshadow. A rare evening without the kidsher friends had convinced her to go out, to clear her head. The divorce wasnt final yet, but living under the same roof as her husband was no longer an option.
“Youre the one tearing this family apart,” her father had said.
“You always overcomplicate things,” her brother echoed.
Shed long since stopped explaining. What was the point? Male solidarity would never let them take her side.
But hearing it from her mother stungthat no one was perfect, that she had her head in the clouds. No one understood why she was unhappy. Which meant, of course, that something was wrong with *her*.
The phone buzzed. Emmas voice crackled through the receiver, bright and eager:
“Ready? The taxis downstairs!”
“Be right there.”
The kids were asleepher mother-in-law had agreed to watch them. Not her own mother, who was punishing her for wanting a divorce, but her husbands mother, the only one who didnt seem to blame her.
“Are you sure youll be alright?” Katie asked at the door. “Call me if anythingdont hesitate!”
“Go on, love!” The older woman waved her off. “Theyre not babies. You deserve one night a year to breathe.”
She nodded, but something clenched inside her. *One night a year.* She hadnt been anywhere in three years except school runs and parent-teacher meetings.
The club was loud, flashy. Katies nerves flutteredshe hadnt danced in ages, hadnt felt like a woman instead of just a mother, a wife, a failure whod abandoned a “perfectly good marriage.”
The music thumped, lights flashed, laughter and the scent of booze and expensive perfume filled the air.
“There you are!” Emma grabbed her arm. “We started without you!”
Katie smiled and downed her first drink in one go. *God, its been so long.*
“Dancing?”
“Maybe later, I”
Then she saw them.
At the large table in the center of the roomher brother Tim, his wife Charlotte in a glittering dress, her father with a champagne flute, Aunt Louise, Uncle Victor… her entire family.
“What” Her voice vanished.
Emma followed her gaze. “Oh! Is that your lot? What a coincidence!”
The words hit her like a slap. *Wednesday.* Her mothers birthday.
“Mum, your birthdays Wednesday, right?” 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 year, love. Too busy.”
*Too busy.* Busy planning a party without her.
“You okay?” Emma frowned.
Katie stepped back. “Fine. I need to go home.”
“What? You just got here!”
But she was already moving toward the exit, heart hammering, hot tears stinging her eyes. None of her family had even noticed her.
In the taxi, she pressed her forehead to the window and let herself crysilent, shaking. They didnt want her there. Maybe they never had.
The car stopped outside her flat, but she couldnt bring herself to go in. Everything burnedthe hurt, the shame, the endless question: *Whats wrong with me?*
Before she could slam the door, her phone buzzed. A message from Tim:
*”Hey. Mums birthday today. Did you call her?”*
She sank onto the bench outside, fingers trembling as she typed:
*”I was there. You didnt see me.”*
She closed her eyes, breathed, deleted it.
Another buzz. Her mother.
“Hello?” Her voice wavered.
“Are you alright?” Her mother whispered, as if afraid of being overheard. “Tim said you werent answering…”
“I was at the club.”
A pause.
“Which club?”
“The one youre all at right now.”
Silence. Then muffled chatter, like her mother had covered the receiver.
“You… you saw us?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Longer.
“Mum… why?” Her grip on the phone turned her fingers white.
“You know why,” her mother sighed. “The way you left the family… your father cant forgive you. And Timhes always sided with Charlotte, who doesnt think much of you.”
“And you?”
Silence.
The answer was clear enough.
At home, the kids were asleep. Her mother-in-law took one look at her face and wordlessly poured tea with honey.
“Drink. Youre shaking.”
Katie took the mug and suddenly sobbed like a child. “They were there. Threw a party. Without me. On purpose.”
Her mother-in-law squeezed her hand. “Im sorry. 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 years. Now its just official,” Katie whispered. “Why are you on my side? Ive always wanted to ask.”
“I know my son, love. And I always knew you two were cut from different cloth. But you tried so hardthat earns respect. And you gave me two wonderful grandchildren.”
Katie smiled. She *had* triedfor years. Shed filed for divorce after eighteen months of marriage.
Because she was tired. Tired of bending, of compromising, of pretending. Her husband was militaryhome only to rest.
At twenty, shed wanted lightness, joy, not the endless performance of being the perfect wife, the happy homemaker.
But everyone said: *Theres something wrong with you if youd walk away from a man like that.* Not with him, not with the marriagewith *her*. Shed believed them.
Shed swallowed it, learned her mother-in-laws recipes, had two children. But nothing helpedshe was miserable, never acclimated to her husband.
Life was hard enough without forcing herself into a mold. He wasnt cruel.
He just never saw her, never understood her. After ten years, they had nothing left but the children.
The morning after the party, a text from her father:
*”You ruined it again. Mums upset.”*
She didnt reply. Instead, she opened her laptop, messaged Alice, and started searching 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.
“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 it all away: the pain, the guilt, the lump in her throat that had been there for years.
The kids, confused at first, now pressed their faces to the windowthis was an adventure.
“Mummy, are we really living by the sea?” Her sons eyes shone.
“We really are.”
Shed bought tickets to a tiny coastal town where shed spent summers before marriage. Her old friend Alice lived there, whod written months ago: *”If you need to escape, come. Theres room.”*
Alice met them at the station and hugged her tight, no questions asked.
“Itll get better,” was all she said.
And for some reason, Katie believed her.
The first days were strange: waking to silence (no calls, no accusations), brewing coffee, staring at the sea. The kids ran on the beach, shrieking with delight.
Within two weeks, her first job offerAlices neighbors needed an English tutor. Katie was fluent.
A month later, her mother called.
“Have you forgotten us?” Her voice tremblednot with anger, but something else.
“No, Mum. But I 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. Her son and daughter were building sandcastles.
“Theyre happy.”
She never went back.
Ten years later, she still lives in that seaside town, teaches Englishgroup lessons, private tutoring. Word of mouth keeps her busy.
Her daughter attends art school, dreams of being a curatorher essay on local painters made the town paper.
Her son… fifteen now, fails maths but wins swimming competitions.
Theyre not perfect, but theyre happy. No one tells them theyre *not enough*. Her mother-in-law visits every summer, never mentions the new daughter-in-law.
