Lost Daughter: A Betrayal for a Husband
My daughter, once so close and dear, has become a stranger. In our little town by the Thames, I, Margaret, watch in pain as she dissolves into her husband, losing herself. Her blind obedience to his will shattered my heart, and her refusal to attend her father’s anniversary was the final blow. Now I face a tormenting question: how can I save my daughter from herself, or is it already too late?
Christina, our only child, had always been our pride. My husband, Edward, and I doted on her, fulfilling her every wish. She graduated university with honors, and as a gift, we bought her a holiday to Greece. There, she met Maximilian, a man from Manchester. I never trusted big cities or their people—too brash, too pushy. But Maximilian seemed serious: he opened a sportswear shop in our town, working tirelessly. We hoped Christina would be happy with him.
After the wedding, they moved into the flat Edward inherited from his mother. At first, all was well. Maximilian was passionate about fitness, spending hours at the gym, and Christina seemed to share his interests. But soon, I noticed my girl changing. She asked me not to call in the evenings: “Mum, Maximilian and I want time just for us after work.” I agreed, thinking it was her choice. Only later did I learn it was his demand. Christina visited us only in the afternoons, without him—because the evenings belonged to him.
Then I saw she was losing weight—drastically, alarmingly. “Christina, what’s wrong? You look exhausted!” I fretted. “We’re on a strict diet,” she murmured. “He wants me to eat what he eats.” I was horrified: “You’ll have children one day! Why starve yourself? Eat properly!” But she shut down, offended. Her face grew gaunt, her eyes dull. I felt my daughter slipping away.
Soon, she arrived with plumped lips and heavy, penciled brows. “Maximilian likes it,” she muttered, avoiding my gaze. She looked like a stranger, a doll, but stayed silent when I questioned it. For her birthday, I gave her a slow cooker, hoping to ease her burdens. She thanked me but left it at our house. When I delivered it to her flat, Maximilian scoffed: “What’s this rubbish? Trying to make her lazy? We don’t need it!” Christina pleaded, “Mum, please take it back, or there’ll be a scene.” I did—but as I left, I heard her apologizing to him. My blood boiled. What was she sorry for?
I held my tongue, fearing I’d push her away. But her submission grew terrifying. She abandoned her favorite foods, her hobbies, us. Anything Maximilian disliked vanished from her life. My Christina, once vibrant and free, was fading, disappearing into his shadow. I stayed silent, praying she’d wake up.
Then came Edward’s 60th. We booked a cottage in the Cotswolds, inviting relatives from nearby towns. Of course, we included Christina and Maximilian. They promised to come, and Edward glowed, eager to see her. But three days before, she called: “Mum, we’re not coming.” I was stunned. “Why? What’s wrong?” “Nothing. We don’t want to break our diet with unhealthy food.” I begged: “Just an hour, for your father! He’s waited so long!” She cut me off: “It’s not worth the drive. I’ll call him, and we’ll send a gift later.”
I choked on fury. “You can’t leave him for one day? Come alone—you’re our daughter!” She hung up with a cold, “I can’t.” Edward paled, his eyes raw with hurt. I called again, unleashing everything: “How could you betray your father like this? His work, his age—you’re obeying Maximilian in everything! Lips, brows, diets, and now this? You’re losing yourself!” She slammed the phone down. We haven’t spoken since.
Now, every night is agony. I see my girl—the one who no longer exists. Christina, my bright, laughing daughter, is now a ghost of her husband, bending to his whims. Skipping her father’s celebration wasn’t just cruel—it was a betrayal tearing us apart. How do I reach her? How do I make her see she’s vanishing under this man’s control? If I do nothing, I lose her forever. If I act, I may push her further away.
In the quiet of our flat, I stare at an old photo of Christina—the one from before Maximilian. My heart is torn between rage and despair. I want to save her, but how? Should I wait for her to wake up? Or fight for her, no matter the cost? When your child betrays her family for a man who steals her soul, what’s left? No answers come—just this: I won’t give up, even if it breaks me.
