«You know, if you’re asking questions like that, maybe you shouldnt have kids. And dont listen to anyone else. I did back in the day, and look where it got me,» her mum sighed. «All those people giving advice vanish when things get hard, but the burden stays with you forever.»
It sounded like solid advice, but inside, Emily felt everything go cold and tight. A lump rose in her throat, and her eyes stung. She knew if she didnt end the call right then, shed be sobbing down the phone. The worst part? Her mum probably wouldnt even understand why.
«Got it. Thanks, Mum. Ill think about it Well talk later,» Emily said and hung up.
She pulled a cushion into her lap, hugging it tightly as she hunched over. This wasnt just adviceit was a careless confession. Emily could almost *feel* the door to her past swing open, everything clicking into place.
When it came to her daughter, Laura had been diligent. Punctual. She made sure Emily ate well, always giving her the best, even if it meant going without herself. Emily had plenty of toys and clothes. Even as a single mum, Laura sent her to piano lessons and dance classes.
In short, Emily had everything. Except love.
Laura never told her she loved her. No hugs, no heart-to-hearts, no praise. Heck, she didnt even scold her. Laura just seemed indifferent.
Emily remembered one time she and her desk-mate, Alice, both failed a maths test. Alice was devastated.
«Lucky you. At least you wont get told off at home. Ill be grounded for weeksphone and laptop confiscated,» Alice groaned.
«*Youre* the lucky one. At least someone *cares* enough to tell you off,» Emily muttered.
Alice just stared at her, baffled. Who in their right mind *wanted* to be shouted at?
«Seriously, are you off your head? If you want a lecture, you can have mine,» Alice snorted. «I wont stop you.»
Emily just looked away. She *would* have taken it, gladlybut her mum never checked her schoolbook. Why would she? Emily was top of the class. Well, until she wasnt.
At first, Emily thought if she was «*good enough*,» maybe her mum would notice her. Praise her piano recitals, her straight As, cheer at her dance performances. But no. Laura reacted with quiet approval, like it was just expected.
So Emily faked being ill. Said her stomach hurt. She wanted her mum to fuss over her, to care. Yeah, it was wrongbut how else could she get her attention?
It half-worked. Laura *did* pay more attentionjust not the kind Emily wanted. She dragged her to doctor after doctor until they diagnosed mild gastritis. Then it was strict meal plans and timed medication. No cuddles, no sympathy. Just cold practicality.
So Emily went nuclear. Skipped school. Flunked tests. Quit piano, quit dance, stopped helping at home. Even started talking back.
Nothing.
«Fine. Dont want to study? Your problem,» her mum said flatly one day. «Ill feed you till youre eighteen, then youre on your own. But good luck finding work if you drop out. Even shop jobs want GCSEs now.»
About chores? Lauras rule was simple: no more outings till the floors were mopped. Emily tried throwing a tantrumher mum just pointed to the door.
«Save the dramatics for your room. Im not interested,» Laura said, shutting herself in her bedroom.
That was the last time Emily bothered with tantrums. She cried half the night, feeling utterly alone. Like she was just a doll to her mumdress it, feed it, ignore it.
She upped the stakes. One night, she stayed at a friends without telling her mum. Would Laura panic? Forget she even had a daughter? Maybe *relief* would flash across her face
Nope. Laura called everyone, tracked her down, and drove her home. And againno shouting, no lectures.
«Keep this up, and youll end up with social services. They wont mess abouttheyll say Ive failed as a parent, and youll end up in care,» Laura said, icy calm.
Emily almost *wished* shed screamed. Thrown things. Even reached for a belt.
Over time, Emily didnt *accept* itshe just got used to it. Moving in with her boyfriend, Daniel, helped. Things moved fasttoo fast, reallyand six months later, they were engaged. Starved for love, Emily latched on recklessly.
Luckily, Daniel was a good man. Steady, with plans for the future.
«What do you think about kids?» he asked once, long before the wedding.
Emily froze. Kids were just what people *did*, right? But the idea of *her* having a child? Terrifying. What if she was a bad mum? What if her kid felt as unloved as she had?
«I dont know if Im ready,» she admitted.
But plans dont always matter. Emily got pregnantat the worst time. They didnt rent, let alone own a place, and bills were rising faster than wages.
«Oh, come off it. Half our friends are on benefits or in debt up to their eyeballs, and they manage,» her mate said when Emily voiced her fears.
Daniel was all for keeping it.
«Its your call, but were married, were stable Id like to be a dad.»
But the more she heard that, the more doubt gnawed at her. So she asked her mumand got the answer that flipped her world upside down. Turns out, *she* hadnt been wanted either.
And Laura said it all so *calmly*. Just stating facts. Like they saysometimes the truth cuts deeper than a knife.
For days, Emily was numb. Work, dinners, TV with Danielall on autopilot. She couldnt shake it. Would her mum *ever* say «I love you»? And what about *her* kid?
In the end, she went to her mother-in-law. Margaret was strict but warm, and Emily clung to that. Sure, shed moan about «kids these days» or tut at dust on the shelvesbut it beat indifference.
«Emily? What brings you round unannounced?» Margaret asked, eyeing her warily as she opened the door.
«Just felt like it,» Emily mumbled, voice wobbling.
But Margaret didnt push. She made tea, set out bread and jam.
«Theres some beef stew if you fancy it,» she added, peering into the fridge. «You and Daniel havent rowed, have you?»
«No,» Emily bit her lip. «Its Mum.»
And then it all spilled out. The lonely childhood, the failed tests no one cared about, the silent evenings, the gnawing fear of being unloved.
Margaret listened, brow furrowed. Finally, she set her mug down with a sigh. Emilys stomach dropped. Had she overshared?
«Listen, love,» Margaret said after a pause. «I knew you two werent close, but not *this*. Still dont hold it against her, alright? I dont think she *means* to be like that. Life hardens some people. Maybe she just doesnt have that instinct. But it could be worse. Lauras a bad mother, but shes not a bad person.»
«*Not bad*? How can someone not love their kid?»
«Some dont. Its awful, but it happens. Sometimes they dont even love *themselves*,» Margaret sighed. «As for the baby follow your heart.»
«What if Im like *her*?»
«You wont,» Margaret waved a hand. «Daniel told me how you nursed that stray kitten. People who cant love dont do that.»
«A babys not a *kitten*. What if I mess up?»
«Oh, loveyou think *anyone* gets it perfect? Heres a secret: good mums *always* worry theyre bad. We *all* make mistakes. I did. Your mum did. You will. And its *fine*. Wanting to love themthats what matters. Ugh, listen to me, giving a lecture after telling you not to listen to anyone!» She chuckled.
Emily managed a small smile. The fear didnt vanish, but it eased. For once, she felt *warmth* instead of that old, familiar chill.
She kept the baby. Pregnancy was roughmorning sickness, mood swings, constant anxiety. But Daniel was there, fetching cravings at 2 AM, rubbing her back, bearing her moods. Margaret helped too, tagging along to scans and teaching her how to swaddle.
Her mum called occasionally. Just to ask if she needed anything. After the birth, she brought a bag of baby clothesnothing more.
Years passed. Emilys daughter grewloud, curious, stubborn. She threw tantrums, broke toys, wore Emily out. But when she was ill, Emily stayed up, stroking her hair, reading stories. She *couldnt* explain why those moments made her cry.
She was ashamed to admit it: she was giving her daughter what shed *ached* for as a child.
Things with her mum didnt warm up, but they didnt break either. Emily stopped expecting the impossible. She helped Laura with bills, brought groceries, called to check on her. Laura wasnt a good mum or granbut she *was* there. Maybe she couldnt love, but in her own way, she *tried*. And sometimes, thats enough.
