It’s been two years since I last heard my daughter’s voice. Emily posts pictures on social media, chats with friends, lives her life—just not with me in it. No calls, no messages. Emily’s a grown woman now, with a two-year-old daughter and a husband, living in their own flat in Manchester. I’ve always been strict—with myself and everyone else. Emily was no exception.
Being a parent means having standards. I wanted her to do well in school, help around the house, take care of herself. And even now, with her own family, I can’t ignore her slip-ups. When I visited, I’d inevitably notice the mess—clothes strewn about, dishes piling up, cupboards in chaos. “How can you live like this?” I’d ask, straightening the folded jumpers. She’d sigh like a moody teenager and start tidying, just to shut me up.
Her daughter’s room is always a tip, the sink’s full for days, and her husband, in my opinion, is utterly useless. Who else but a mother tells the hard truths? But a year ago, everything changed. Emily stopped answering my calls. The night before, I’d mentioned how my niece’s little girl was already reading at three. Emily frowned and asked why I kept comparing her child to others.
How could I not, when the difference was so obvious? That was our last conversation. Later, I found out she’d changed the locks and didn’t want to see me. I told myself it was a phase—she’d come to her senses and apologize. But time passed, and she stayed silent.
In August, it was my birthday. I waited for even a text, but Emily didn’t spare me a thought. The next day, furious, I rang from an unknown number. “If you don’t want anything to do with me,” I said, “then get out of my flat!”
Here’s the thing—six years ago, before her wedding, I signed the flat over to her. Her husband earned peanuts, and I wanted to help the young couple. I could afford to. But now she’s cut me out of her life? Fine. Let her find a new place to live! Emily’s voice was icy when she replied—the paperwork was done, the flat was legally hers, and I had no right to throw her out.
Was I wrong? If she’s so independent, let her prove it by moving out! I gave her everything, and all I got back was silence. My heart aches, but I won’t forgive such betrayal.
