Today’s Diary Entry
I heard the door creak open, and before I could even glance up, Emily’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Come quick! My sister’s here!”
I barely had time to slip off my coat before stepping inside their home in Manchester. “Claire? No way! It’s been ages!” I gasped, hurrying into the warm, familiar kitchen.
There she was—Claire, poised yet weary, sitting at the table. The moment she saw me, she leapt up and pulled me into a tight embrace. We’d been inseparable as girls, sharing every joy and heartache, and now, after all these years, it felt like stepping back into those carefree days.
“We have to celebrate! Two years is too long,” I insisted, and soon we were all settled around the table, lost in conversation. Each of us carried stories woven with happiness and sorrow, gifts life had handed out without mercy.
Claire had been a widow for six years. Her husband, Andrew, died in a car crash—with his mistress beside him. For a year, he’d led a double life, and Claire had noticed nothing. She’d sensed the distance between them but, for the sake of their children—a son and daughter—she’d fought to keep their marriage intact. The kids adored their father, and she couldn’t bear to shatter their world.
But the accident changed everything. The children, shattered by grief, took years to find their footing. Claire, drowning in her own pain, tried to hold them together, but bitterness gnawed at their family from within.
“My Tom was a tyrant,” I admitted, sipping my tea. “When I read about toxic relationships online, it was like they’d written it about him. Thank goodness I kicked him out before he got worse.”
“Husbands are one thing,” Claire said with a bitter smile. “You can divorce them. But children… you can’t walk away from children. After Andrew died, mine became unmanageable. We all grieved, but my son… he blamed me for everything. He said Andrew took up with that woman because of our fights. That the stress made him reckless, caused the crash. Now my son hates me. He told me—can you believe it, Emily?—that he wished I’d died instead of his father.”
Her voice broke, tears spilling over. Emily and I sat frozen, helpless. Claire took a shaky breath and went on. “He’s become a monster. Only nineteen, and I’m terrified of him. The insults are bad enough, but now he’s started hitting. And what can I do? Report my own son? He’s even turned on my sister for defending me. Last week, he slammed her head into the corner of the table—just because we went for a walk together. He apologised afterward, but the next day, it was the same old rage. I pray the army will sort him out. My daughter and I fled here just for a break from his cruelty.”
My chest ached as I watched her. I knew how much she was suffering, but no words could ease it. Emily, Claire’s sister, sat silently twisting a napkin in her hands, her eyes glistening.
“You know,” Claire murmured, “I keep asking myself—where did I go wrong? I tried so hard to be a good mother, and now my son sees me as the enemy. He blames me for every bad thing in his life. And I… I don’t know how to keep going.”
“It’s unbearable,” I whispered. “How can he treat his own mother like this? He has to see you’re not to blame!”
“He doesn’t want to see,” Claire sighed. “Hating me is easier. And I’m terrified he’ll destroy not just my life, but Emily’s too. She puts up with his nonsense for my sake.”
Finally, Emily looked up. “Claire, I don’t regret standing by you. He’s your son, but this can’t go on. We need to do something—talk to him, maybe? Or get him to a therapist?”
“A therapist?” Claire gave a hollow laugh. “He wouldn’t even listen. Says it’s all my fault, end of story.”
The silence in the kitchen felt thick, like storm clouds pressing down. Each of us ached for the others, but none of us knew how to fix it. Desperate to lighten the mood, I raised my mug. “Ladies, let’s drink… to us. To finding the strength to keep going, even when the people we love most break our hearts.”
Claire and Emily managed weak smiles, but their eyes stayed wet with tears. We clinked our glasses, but there was no joy in it. Claire stared out the window as dusk settled, her thoughts lost in the dark. She still loved her son—despite the pain, despite the fear. But deep down, she wondered if that love would ruin her.
