“Mum, why didnt you invite me to your birthday?”
Katie clutched her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. “You know why,” her mum sighed. “After you left the family your dad cant forgive you. And Jamie well, hes always sided with Charlotte, who doesnt think much of you either.”
Katie stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her eyeshadow. A rare night outher friends had convinced her to let loose, to forget things for a while. The divorce wasnt final yet, but living under the same roof as her husband had become unbearable.
“Youre the one breaking up this family,” her dad had said.
“You always overcomplicate things,” her brother chimed in.
Shed stopped explaining long ago. What was the point? Male solidarity meant theyd never take her side.
But it hurt most coming from her mumthe lectures about how no ones perfect, how shes too idealistic. No one understood why she was unhappy. Which meant, in their eyes, *she* was the problem.
Her phone buzzed. It was Lana, squealing in her ear.
“Ready? The taxis outside!”
“Yeah, coming.”
The kids were asleepher mother-in-law had agreed to watch them. Not her own mum, who was still punishing her for wanting the divorce, but her ex-husbands mother, the only one who didnt seem to resent her.
“Are you sure youll be okay?” Katie asked at the door. “Call me if anything happens, yeah? Dont hesitate!”
“Go on, love,” the older woman waved her off. “Theyre not babies. You deserve a night out for once.”
Katie nodded, but something twisted inside her. *For once.* It had been three years since shed done anything beyond school runs and PTA meetings.
The club was loud, trendy. Katies nerves flutteredshe hadnt been out in so long, hadnt danced, hadnt felt like a woman instead of just a mum, a wife, the failure whod wrecked a “perfect family.”
The music throbbed. Strobe lights flickered, laughter and chatter filled the air, the scent of beer and expensive perfume mixing together.
“Finally!” Lana grabbed her hand. “We started without you!”
Katie smiled and downed her first drink in one go. *God, its been ages.*
“Want to dance?”
“Maybe later, I”
Then she saw them.
At the big table in the middle of the roomher brother Jamie, his wife Charlotte in a glittering dress, her dad with a champagne flute, Aunt Lucy, Uncle Vic her whole family.
“What” Her voice vanished.
Lana followed her gaze. “Oh, look! Isnt that your lot? What a coincidence!”
*Coincidence?*
And thenclick. Wednesday. Her mums birthday.
“Mum, your birthdays Wednesday, right?” shed asked over the weekend. “We always celebrated on Saturdays. Same this year?”
Her mum had avoided her eyes. “Oh, who cares about birthdays every year? Were skipping it this time, love. Too busy.”
*Too busy.* Right. Too busy to invite her. Too busy to pretend she still existed.
“Are you okay?” Lana frowned.
Katie stepped back. “II need to go home.”
“What?! You just got here!”
But Katie was already heading for the exit, heart hammering, 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. Silent, shaking. They didnt want her. Maybe they never had.
The cab stopped outside her flat, but she couldnt bring herself to get out. Everything inside her burnedanger, shame, that same old question: *Whats wrong with me?*
Before she could slam the door, her phone pinged. A message from Jamie: *”Hey. Mums birthday today. Did you call her?”*
She sat on the bench outside, typed back: *”I was there. You didnt see me.”* Then deleted it.
Her phone buzzed again. Mum.
“Hello?” Her voice cracked.
“Are you all right?” Her mum whispered, like she was afraid of being overheard. “Jamie said you werent answering”
“I was at the club.”
A pause.
“Which club?”
“The one youre all at right now.”
Silence. Then muffled chatter, as if her mum had covered the phone.
“Youyou saw us?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Longer.
“Mum why?” Her grip on the phone turned her fingers white.
“You know why,” her mum sighed. “You left the family. Dad cant forgive you. And Jamie well, hes always sided with Charlotte, who doesnt think much of you.”
“And you?”
Silence.
The answer was clear enough.
Inside, the kids were asleep. Her mother-in-law took one look at her face and didnt ask questionsjust poured tea with honey.
“Drink. Youre shaking.”
Katie took the mug, then broke down. “They were there. Throwing a party. Without me. On purpose. They dont want me.”
Her mother-in-law squeezed her hand. “Thats rough. 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. Now its just official,” Katie muttered. “Why *are* you on my side, anyway? Ive always wanted to ask.”
“I know my son, love. Knew from the start you two werent cut from the same cloth. But you tried. That counts for something. And you gave me two grandkids I adore.”
Katie smiled weakly. She *had* triedtoo hard. Theyd married young, divorced after a year and a half.
Because she was tired. Tired of bending, of pretending. Her ex was militaryhome was just somewhere to rest. Shed been twenty, craving an easy life, not this endless performance of the happy homemaker.
But everyone told her: *Youre the problem. Youre too difficult. You should be grateful.*
So shed swallowed it. Learned her mother-in-laws recipes, had two kids. But nothing helped. She never fit.
Eventually, she realized life was hard enough without forcing yourself to match someone else. Her ex wasnt cruelhe just didnt *see* her. After ten years, they had nothing left but the kids.
The morning after the party, her dad texted: *”You ruined it again. Mums upset.”*
Katie 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 kids.
“Mum, where are we going?” her eldest asked.
“On an adventure!” Katie grinnedthe first real smile in ages.
“Are we coming back soon?”
“Dunno!”
The train carried them southto the sea, to warm winds, to salt air that might wash away the hurt, the guilt, the lump in her throat shed carried for years.
The kids were confused at first, then glued to the window. For them, this was magic.
“Mum, are we *really* living by the sea?” Her sons eyes sparkled.
“Really.”
Shed booked tickets to a tiny coastal town where shed spent summers before marriage. Alice, an old friend, had messaged when the divorce started: *”If you need out, come stay. Plenty of room.”*
Alice met them at the stationhugged her tight, no questions.
“Itll work out,” was all she said.
And somehow, Katie believed her.
The first days were strangewaking to silence (no calls, no lectures), sipping coffee while watching the sea. The kids ran on the beach, shrieking with joy.
Within two weeks, she had her first job offer. Alices neighbours needed an English tutor. Katie was fluent.
A month in, her mum called.
“Have you forgotten us?” Her voice tremblednot with anger, but something else.
“No, Mum. I just needed to go.”
A pause.
“We we were wrong. Im sorry.”
Katie smiled. “Im not angry. But I need time.”
“And the kids?”
She glanced out the window. Her son and daughter were building a sandcastle.
“Theyre fine.”
She never moved back.
Ten years later, she still lives in that seaside town, teaching Englishgroups, private lessons. Word of mouth keeps her booked solid.
Her daughter goes to art school, dreams of being a curatorher essay on local painters even made the paper.
Her son? Fifteen now, brings home Ds in maths but wins swimming competitions.
They
