Our daughter was ashamed of our rural roots and didnt invite us to her wedding
Our daughter was embarrassed by us because we were from the countryside. She left us out of her big day
My husband and I had always lived simply but honestly. Our cottage, our vegetable patch, our cows, our worrieseverything revolved around one goal: raising our only daughter to be someone worthy. For her, wed have given anything. The best? Always hers. New shoes? Of course. A coat so she wouldnt feel lesser than the city girls? Naturally. Wed have gone without, just so she had what she needed. She grew up lovely, clever. Top of her class, dreaming of city life. And wewe could only be glad. Our Emily was meant for more than wed known.
My husband, through old connections, got her into a prestigious London university. No fees. We swelled with pride as if it were our own triumph. We supported her however we couldwith words and what little money we had. Every visit home was a celebration. We hung on her stories like fairy tales: her office job, her well-bred sweetheartOliver, son of a businessman. She glowed when she spoke of him. And all we thought was: let the wedding come soon
But years passed, and no proposal came. One day, my husband couldnt hold back: “Bring Oliver home, lets meet him proper!” She hesitated, made excuses about work. Once, then twice. Our suspicions grew. Something wasnt right. So one day, we mustered our courage: wed go to London ourselves. The address, we found in old letters. We bought gifts, wore our Sunday best, and set off.
The house was grand. Brick, glass, a gatekeeper. A polite man led us inside. A scene from a film, all that wealth. We stood there, not knowing where to look, until we were ushered into the parlour. And thats when I saw it. On the table, a large framed wedding photo. In white lace, bouquet in handour Emily. My husband froze, turned to stone. Me? I felt the floor vanish beneath me.
“Strange, thoughwhy werent you at the wedding?” Oliver suddenly asked.
My husband and I exchanged glances. What could we say? That we hadnt even known? Then she appeared. Emily. Her face crumpled, lips trembling. With a gesture, I asked her to speak. At first, she stammered excuses, then finally, the truth spilled out:
“I didnt invite you because youre from the country. I was ashamed. I didnt want anyone knowing my parents were farmers”
Those words stabbed through my heart. A knife, twisted. How? Us? Ashamed? We whod given everything for her? Whod worked ourselves to the bone for her future?
“And Oliver?” I asked, breathless. “Did he know?”
“Yes. He wanted you there. Even sent an invitation, but I told him youd refused”
There it was. We were her dirty secret. She hadnt even given us the chance to stand at her side on the most important day of her life. No word, no explanation. Just wiped away.
We left that same day. No tears, no shouting. Just an emptiness in our souls. How do you go on when your own child turns her back? How do you believe it wasnt all for nothing? That we didnt raise a stranger?
Since then, Emily hasnt called. And neither have we. Not out of spiteout of pain. Because what do you say to the one who tossed you aside so easily?
