For two years now, I haven’t spoken a word to my daughter. A year ago, Emily suddenly stopped answering my calls. She still posts pictures on social media, chats with friends, and lives her life—just not with me in it. Emily is a grown woman now, with a two-year-old daughter and a husband of her own. They live in a flat in Manchester. I’ve always been strict—with myself and everyone else. Emily was no exception.
Being a parent means having high standards. I wanted her to do well in school, help around the house, and take pride in her appearance. Even now, with her own family, I can’t ignore her flaws. When I visited, I’d notice the mess—clothes strewn about, dishes piling up, wardrobes in chaos. “How can you live like this?” I’d ask, straightening the folded jumpers on her shelves. Emily would sigh like a sulky teenager and start tidying just to shut me up.
Her daughter is growing up in that neglected room, dirty plates sit in the sink for days, and her husband, in my opinion, is utterly useless. Who else but a mother would tell her the truth? But a year ago, everything changed. Emily stopped picking up the phone. The last time we spoke, I 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 can you not compare when the difference is so clear? That was our final conversation. Later, I found out she changed the locks and didn’t want to see me. I thought it was just a passing phase—that she’d come to her senses and apologise. But the days turned to weeks, then months, and she never did.
In August, it was my birthday. I waited for even a text, but Emily didn’t remember. The next day, anger got the better of me, so I called from a different number. “If you don’t want anything to do with me,” I said, “then get out of my flat!”
The truth is, six years ago, before her wedding, I signed the flat over to Emily. Her husband was earning peanuts, and I wanted to help them—I could afford to. But now that she’s cut me out of her life, she can find somewhere else to live! Emily replied coolly: the paperwork is all legal, the flat is hers, and no one can force her out.
Am I really wrong? If she’s so independent, let her prove it by moving out! I gave her everything, and all I got in return was silence. My heart aches, but I can’t forgive this betrayal.
