I found my daughters diary, where she wrote about hating me.
«No, just look at her! Shes back! And what on earth is that in your nose, may I ask?»
Emily stood in the hallway, arms crossed. Her voice, usually gentle, now rang with indignation. Lily, her sixteen-year-old daughter, slowly tugged off her trainers, avoiding her mothers gaze. A tiny stud glinted in the wing of her nose like a defiant spark.
«Its a piercing, Mum. A nose ring. Everyone has them.»
«Everyone? Whos ‘everyver’? Your new friend Chloe, who has ten holes in her ears? Is that ‘everyone’? I told you not to hang around with her!»
«Chloes fine! You dont even know her!» Lily finally lifted her head, her eyes sharp with angry tears. «And I didnt ask your permission. Its my body.»
«Your body?!» Emily stepped closer. «As long as you live under my roof, on my money, that body is my responsibility! Do you have any idea what could happen if it gets infected? Ever heard of tetanus? Where did you even get this donesome dirty basement with a rusty needle?»
«It was a proper studio! Everythings sterile! Why do you always jump to the worst?»
«I jump? I waited up till midnight! You didnt answer your phone! I was calling hospitals and the police! And you were off getting ‘beautified’! Take that thing out right now!»
«No!» Lily straightened, nearly matching her mothers height. «Its my life, and Ill decide how I look! You hate everything I likemy music, my friends, my clothes!»
«Because none of it leads anywhere!» Emilys voice cracked into a shout. «Youre supposed to be studying, getting into university, not ruining yourself and running around God knows where!»
Lily shoved past her toward her room.
«I hate you!» she hissed before slamming the door so hard the dishes in the cabinet rattled.
Emily stood frozen in the silent hallway. The word «hate» echoed in her ears like a tolling bell. She leaned against the wall, legs shaking, heart pounding in her throat. Why? Why was it like this? She did everything for her. Worked two jobs so Lily could have the bestclothes, tutors, summer holidays by the sea. Shed given up her own life when her husband left, dedicating herself entirely to her daughter. And this was her thanks. «I hate you.»
She drifted to the kitchen, mechanically filling the kettle. Her hands trembled. Memories flashedLily as a little girl with giant hair bows, trustingly holding out her hands; Lily in her first school uniform, proudly clutching a bouquet of flowers; Lily hugging her, whispering, «Mummy, youre the best.» Where had that gone? When had her sweet, affectionate girl turned into this prickly, furious stranger?
The bedroom door stayed shut, no sound from within. Emily knew talking now was pointless. Any attempt at peace would be met with defiance. She had to wait. She always had to wait for the storm to pass.
The next morning was Saturday. Emily woke early as usual, made breakfast. Lily didnt emerge. Emily knocked.
«Lily, come eat. Itll get cold.»
Silence.
«Sweetheart, can you hear me?»
«Not hungry,» came the muffled reply.
Emily sighed. She ate alone, washed up. The flat felt thick with silence, heavy as custard. Saturdays were usually their timecleaning, shopping, watching films. Today, the house felt alien and cold.
She decided to clean. It always helped order her thoughts. She dusted the living room, mopped the kitchen. Only Lilys room remained. Normally, Lily tidied it herself, but now now Emily needed an excuse to breach the icy barrier.
She knocked again.
«Lil, Im mopping. Let me in.»
The door creaked open reluctantly. Lily stood by the window, back turned, headphones on. Emily entered with a bucket and cloth. The room was a typical teens creative chaosclothes strewn, books piled, sketches half-finished. She began mopping quietly. Lily didnt turn.
Then Emily spotted something under the bed. A pink notebook with a tiny padlock. A diary. She remembered buying it for Lilys last birthday. Her daughter had laughed then»Mum, who even writes diaries anymore? Thats so last century.» Apparently, some still did.
Her heart skipped. This was wrong. An invasion. But yesterdays «I hate you» burned inside her. She had to understand.
She finished quickly.
«All done,» she murmured.
Lily gave a slight nod. Emily left, shutting the door softly. The rest of the day, she couldnt focus. The diary gnawed at her. What was in it? Boys? Friends? School drama? Orher stomach clenchedherself?
That evening, Lily muttered about meeting Chloe and left. Emily waited ten minutes, then crept into her room, hands shaking. She felt like a thief.
The diary was still there. The lock was flimsy; a paperclip opened it. She sat on the bed, flipping pages. Neat, childish handwritingschool, a maths test, a new song by some band Emily didnt know. Shame prickled her skin. She was trespassing.
Then she found last weeks entry.
«Aunt Lucy came over today. Again with the ‘Oh, Emily, youre a saint, raising such a clever girl alone! Lilys your pride and joy!’ I just sat there smiling like an idiot. Inside, I was boiling. ‘Pride and joy.’ Mums little project. Do I get to be anything else? Or am I just here to meet her expectations? Be the perfect girl, get into the ‘right’ uni. Sometimes I think Im just a doll she dresses up and shows off.»
Emilys fingers went numb. Shed never thought that. She was just proud. Was that so bad?
She turned the page. A month-old entry.
«Mum screamed at me for being an hour late. The neighbours probably heard. Then she cried, going on about how shes alone, how Im all she has, how scared she is. Classic move. Yell first, then guilt-trip. And it worksI feel awful. Like I owe her for being born. Like I have to give up my life to keep her happy.»
A lump rose in Emilys throat. Was that really how Lily saw her love? As manipulation? But she was scared! The world was dangerous.
Every line was a knife. Offhand remarks shed forgotten were dissected here. Her advice taken as criticism. Her care as control. Her love as a leash.
«She doesnt get me. At all. She asked what music I like. I played her a track. She grimaced and said, ‘Thats just noise. How is that music?’ and walked off. It mattered to me. But she doesnt care about my world. She just wants me to be convenient.»
Then, the worst. Last nights entry, handwriting jagged with anger.
«I hate her. Hate her! Shell never let me breathe. Controls my every move, who Im friends with, what I wear, what I think. This piercing Id wanted it forever. It was my choice. And she’Take that rubbish out.’ Didnt even ask why. Just decided it was wrong. Doesnt fit her perfect picture. Im suffocating. I want to run away. Anywhere. Just to never see her disappointed face again. I hate her love. I hate her care. I hate her!»
Emily snapped the diary shut. Her whole body shook. She stared at the pink cover, unable to reconcile it with her little girl. Her Lily.
Her world crumbled. Every sacrifice, every sleepless nightall worthless. She wasnt a loving mother. She was a jailer. Shed given her whole self, and in doing so, shed stolen Lilys own life.
She replaced the diary, staggered to the sofa, and collapsed, head in hands. Tears fell unchecked. Inside was only hollow, icy silence.
She didnt know how long she sat there. Lily returned, stopping in the doorway.
«Mum? You okay?»
Emily looked up. She saw the nose stud, the skull-print hoodie, the crossed armsand for the first time, not a rebellious teen, but a stranger who hated her.
«Just a headache,» she whispered.
«Take a paracetamol,» Lily said flatly, disappearing into her room.
Emily didnt sleep. She replayed every diary line, every memory Lily had twisted. And the worst part? Her daughter wasnt entirely wrong. She had criticised Chloe. Disapproved of her music. After fights, shed cried, saying Lily was her only joy. Shed thought it proved her love. Instead, it was selfishchains disguised as care.
The next morning, she called her closest friend, Sarah.
«Sal, can you talk?»
«Em? You sound awful. Whats wrong?»
And she spilled it allthe fight, the diary, the hate.
Sarah sighed.
«Em you do keep her under a microscope. Remember when you moaned about Chloe? Whats so bad about her? She dresses edgy? Shes sixteen, not forty. Remember us at that age? Dyed hair, sneaking to gigs? Our mums had the same meltdowns.»
«But its different»
«No, its not. We forget. We want our kids to skip our mistakes. But they need their own. Lily doesnt hate you. She hates the control. She loves youI know it. But she needs you to see her as a person. Not your ‘perfect daughter’ project. A person with rights to stupid choices, nose rings, and terrible music.»
«What do I do?» Emily whispered. «Tell her I read it?»
«God, no!» Sarah hissed. «Thats a betrayal. You have to be subtle. You know what hurts her now. Change how you act. Slowly. Give her space. Show interestnot as a critic, but a friend.»
«I cant.»
«You can. You love her. But your loves too heavy. Lighten it.»
Emily spent the day digesting that. Lighten love. How? Let go? But what if Lily made mistakes?
That evening, Lily emerged, heading out. Emily forced a smile.
«Lil, wait.»
Her daughter tensed, bracing for a lecture.
«Going out with Chloe?» Emily kept her voice even.
«Yeah.»
«Whatll you do? Cinema?»
«Just a café. Maybe hers after. Listen to music.»
Emily nodded. Deep breath.
«That nose stud» Lily stiffened. «Its unusual. But if you like it I guess its trendy. Just keep it clean with antiseptic, okay? No infections.»
Lily gaped. Shed expected yelling, threats. Not this.
«Okay,» she mumbled.
«And dont stay out too late, please,» Emily added softly. «I worry.»
No «youre all I have.» Just «I worry.»
Lily nodded silently and left.
Emilys every instinct screamed to stop her. But she remembered the diary.
The next weeks were the hardest of her life. She bit back lectures. Asked instead of demanded. Once, she paused at Lilys door as music blared. Old her wouldve scowled and left. Now, she stepped in.
«Loud?» Lily asked, removing one earbud.
«No,» Emily sat on the bed. «What are you listening to?»
Lily eyed her warily but handed over the earbud. Harsh, industrial beats and rapid-fire lyrics spilled out. Emily made herself listen.
«Interesting,» she said, returning it. «Whats it about?»
Lily, stunned, explained the bands anti-establishment themes. Emily nodded, understanding half. But she saw Lilys eyes brighten, the usual spikes softening. For once, they talked about something that mattered to her.
Small steps. One day, Emily noticed sketches on Lilys deskfantastical costume designs. Old her wouldve snapped, «Focus on your A-levels.» Now, she studied them.
«These are brilliant,» she said honestly.
«Thanks,» Lily muttered, flushing.
It wasnt instant harmony. There were slip-ups, fresh arguments. But the fights lacked their old hopelessness. Emily learned to see Lily as her own person. Lily, feeling the grip loosen, unclenched.
One evening, they sat drinking tea in comfortable silence.
«Mum,» Lily said suddenly. «Remember you asked about uni?»
Emilys heart stalled. She braced for «nowhere» or «abroad.»
«Ive been looking theres a design college. For costume design. Id like to try.»
Old Emily wouldve panicked. Design? Not law or medicine? But she recalled the diary. «Mums project.»
«That sounds exciting,» she said slowly. «What do you need? Portfolio?»
«Yeah, sketches. Plus English and Art.»
«Youre great at Art,» Emily smiled. «Lets pick your best pieces.»
Lily stared.
«You youre okay with this?»
Emily sighed.
«Love, I wanted what I thought was best for you. But you deserve your own dreams. If this makes you happy, Ill support you.»
Lilys eyes shone. She hugged Emilyproperly, for the first time in years.
«Thank you,» she whispered.
Emily held her, breathing in her shampoo. That pink diary, though shed never opened it again, hadnt been a curse. It shattered her perfect world, yesbut it also woke her up. Let her see the real girl shed smothered. And gave her one last chance to love Lily not for who she wanted her to be, but for who she was.
