“You brought misery into our family!” the mother shrieked at her teenage daughter.
“Mummy, you’re back! I missed you so much! Will we be together now?” the girl cried, her voice trembling with hope as she rushed toward her mother.
“No! You’re staying with Gran!” Anna snapped, recoiling as if the child were a stranger.
Anna had returned to the sleepy town of Oakhampton for the first time in two years. Her voice was ice, her eyes brimming with hatred. She’d left her daughter in her mother-in-law’s care, and this reunion shattered the girl’s heart, so desperate for a mother’s love.
“Why?” the girl whispered, fighting back tears.
“Because your birth brought nothing but grief! Your father’s gone because of you!” Anna hurled the words like a dagger, and they struck deep into her daughter’s soul.
* * *
Anna and Peter had been inseparable since their school days. Their love seemed eternal—dreaming of the future, making plans, unable to bear a day apart. They married right after university. Peter took a lucrative job on an offshore rig, and soon they bought a flat in Oakhampton. When Anna found out she was expecting, Peter beamed with joy. He doted on her, booked the best maternity hospital, and prepared the nursery. Life was full of promise.
But fate had other ideas. Days after the birth, Anna was ready to be discharged. Peter, bursting with pride, decorated the nursery, bought flowers, and set off to collect his wife and baby girl. He never made it. A horrific crash took his life. Rescuers and doctors were powerless. Anna was left alone with her newborn daughter.
Her best mate, Sarah, rushed to the hospital, spinning ridiculous tales to soften the blow. But the truth caught up with Anna at home. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, sobbing, broke the news. Anna, wild with grief, stormed into the nursery Peter had lovingly prepared. She tore at the curtains, hurled toys, screamed into the void. Her world had ended.
After the funeral, Anna couldn’t bear to look at her daughter. Margaret took over, tending to the baby while Anna forced herself through the motions—feeding, changing, but her heart was hollow, filled only with rage. She blamed the child, as if her birth had cursed them all.
One day, when Margaret visited, Anna snapped.
“It’s her fault!” she sobbed, choking on tears. “She ruined everything! I hate her!”
“Anna, stop this!” Margaret begged. “We have to live for her. She’s innocent!”
But the words meant nothing. Anna walled herself off, drowning in grief and fury.
Two years later, Anna landed a job. Margaret helped where she could, but soon Anna got a promotion—travel, meetings, excuses piling up. She asked Margaret to take the girl full-time. The grandmother, adoring her granddaughter, agreed. At first, Anna visited, took her for weekends, but the gaps widened. Then she vanished.
Money appeared in Margaret’s account, but calls went unanswered. The girl—Emily—cried, begging for her mum. Margaret spun lies: “She’s away for work, love. She’ll be back.” She even went to Anna’s flat, but the door slammed in her face.
Years passed. Anna turned up on Emily’s birthday, icy and stiff. She handed over a gift, barely looking at the girl, who lunged forward, hopeful.
“Mum, you’re home! Can I live with you now?” Emily’s eyes sparkled.
“Nothing’s changed,” Anna cut in, stepping back. “You’re staying here.”
“Why?” Emily’s voice wavered, tears welling.
“Because you’re bad luck. Your dad died because of you!” The words hung in the air, cruel and final.
Margaret couldn’t take it.
“Anna, stop this! How dare you say that to a child?!”
Anna turned, calm as frost.
“I’ve remarried,” she said. “And I’m pregnant. I came to sign away my rights to Emily.”
“You’d abandon your own daughter?” Margaret gasped. “Have you no shame?”
“I can’t love her,” Anna muttered. “I’m sorry.”
She left. The legal papers arrived soon after. Emily stayed with Margaret, who became her guardian. When the girl asked about her mother, Margaret stayed silent, unable to speak the truth. Only years later did Emily learn her mother had blamed her for Peter’s death. She cried for days—but never asked again. Her heart, once so full of love, had broken for good.
