**October 12th, 1985**
*”You’ve brought nothing but misery to this family!”* Mother shouted at her teenage daughter, her voice sharp as a blade.
*”Mum, you’re back! I’ve missed you so much! Are we going to be together now?”* The girl flung herself forward, hope trembling in her voice.
*”No. You’re staying with Gran,”* Anna cut her off coldly, stepping back as if repelled by a stranger.
After two long years, Anna had finally returned to her daughter in the quiet town of Oakridge. Her eyes were hollow, her tone ice-cold. She’d left the girl with her mother-in-law, and now this reunion shattered the child’s heart—the heart that had ached for a mother’s love.
*”Why?”* Her daughter fought back tears.
*”Because your birth was the ruin of us! Your father’s dead because of you!”* Anna’s words stabbed like a knife.
—
Anna and Paul had been inseparable since grammar school. Their love seemed unbreakable—dreaming of a future, planning a life, unable to bear a day apart. They married straight after university. Paul took a job in the North Sea, earning good money, and soon they bought a cottage in Oakridge. When Anna found out she was pregnant, Paul was radiant. He doted on her, chose the finest maternity hospital, even painted the nursery himself. Their life was full of promise.
But fate had other plans. Days after the birth, Anna prepared to leave the hospital. Beaming with pride, Paul decorated the nursery, bought flowers, and set off to fetch his wife and baby girl. He never made it. A lorry skidded on the icy road—his car was crushed. Paramedics couldn’t save him. Anna returned home alone, clutching their newborn.
Her best mate, Emma, tried to soften the blow at the hospital, spinning wild tales to distract her. But the truth came later. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, wept as she told her. Anna, half-mad with grief, stormed into the nursery—the one Paul had prepared with such love. She tore at the curtains, hurled stuffed animals across the room, screaming in agony. Her world had ended.
After the funeral, Anna couldn’t bear to look at her daughter. Margaret took over, caring for the baby while Anna moved through the motions—feeding, changing—but her heart was empty. She blamed the child. As if her birth had been a curse.
One evening, when Margaret stopped by, Anna snapped.
*”It’s her fault!”* she sobbed. *”She destroyed everything! I hate her!”*
*”Anna, stop this!”* Margaret begged. *”That little girl needs us. She’s innocent!”*
But Anna wouldn’t hear it. She locked herself in her grief, shutting out her daughter with a wall of bitterness.
Two years on, Anna took a job. Margaret helped as much as she could, but when a promotion sent Anna travelling, she asked her mother-in-law to take the girl. Margaret, who adored her granddaughter, agreed at once. At first, Anna visited. Took her some weekends. Then the visits grew scarce. Then stopped altogether.
Money appeared in Margaret’s account, but no calls, no letters. The girl—Sophie—cried for her mother, begged to see her. Margaret made excuses: *”Mum’s away for work. She’ll be back soon.”* Once, she even went to Anna’s flat, but the door was slammed in her face.
Years passed. On Sophie’s tenth birthday, Anna turned up unannounced. She marched in, thrust a wrapped gift into her hands, and stood rigid as Sophie’s face lit up.
*”Mum! You’re here! Am I coming home with you?”*
*”Nothing’s changed,”* Anna said flatly, recoiling. *”You’re staying put.”*
*”Why?”* Sophie’s voice cracked.
*”Because you’re the reason he’s gone!”* Anna hissed. *”Your father would be alive if not for you.”*
Margaret had heard enough. *”Anna, for God’s sake! How can you say such things?”*
Anna met her gaze, calm as stone. *”I’ve remarried. And I’m expecting. I came to sign the papers. She’s yours now.”*
*”You’d abandon your own child?”* Margaret gasped.
*”I could never love her,”* Anna murmured. *”Forgive me.”*
Then she walked out. The legal papers arrived a week later. Sophie stayed with Margaret, who became her guardian. When the girl asked about her mother, Margaret stayed silent—what could she say? Years later, Sophie learned the truth. She wept for days, then never asked again. A heart that had loved so fiercely was broken for good.
—
**Lesson learned:** Some wounds never heal. But carrying hate burns the one who holds it longest.
