Everyones invited to the birthday except you, announced my sister in the family group chat.
Mum, thats enough! I cant drive up to you every week! I have a life of my own!
Emily pressed the phone to her ear, feeling the heat rise inside. It was the third call of the day, the same complaints, the same tone.
Emily, whats happening? Lucy was here yesterday, brought a cake. And you havent called all week!
Mum, I called the day before yesterday! I bring cakes too, just not every day.
Exactly, not every day. Lucy does it every week. Thats what a daughter should be.
Emily shut her eyes, counted to ten. The argument looped endlessly. Lucy, the older sister, had been Mums favourite since childhood.
Mum, I have an early shift tomorrow. Can we talk later?
Of course, youre always busy. Lucy also works, but she finds the time.
Emily hung up without a goodbye, exhausted by the endless comparisons.
The phone buzzed. A new message from Lucy appeared in the family chat.
Hello, all! As you know, Mums 60th birthday is coming. Im arranging a party at The Rosewood Hotel. Everyones invited Ive booked a table for twenty. Please confirm by Friday.
The list followed: aunts, uncles, cousins, even a thirdcousin from York wed met only once. Emily scrolled to the bottom. Her name was missing.
She read the message again. No mistake. She wasnt on the list.
Emily typed:
Lucy, am I invited?
The reply came instantly:
Everyones invited except you. Mum decided.
The words blurred on the screen. She reread them, once, twice, a third time. Was it a joke? Had Lucy just been cruel?
No one else questioned the omission. Aunt Agnes confirmed her attendance, cousin Tom wrote hed come with his wife. The silence was deafening.
Emily dialed Mum. The line clicked three times, then nothing. She tried Lucy.
Hello? Lucys voice was flat, almost indifferent.
Lucy, whats this about? Why am I not on the guest list?
I told you. Mum doesnt want you at her party.
Why?
A pause, then:
She thinks youre a bad daughter, that you dont care about her.
Thats not true! I call, I visit, I help!
It isnt enough, Lucy said, a hint of satisfaction creeping into her tone. Mum said she wont see you at her celebration, and Im backing her.
Youre backing her? Im your sister!
Exactly, which is why I know what you really are selfish, thinking only of yourself.
What are you talking about?
Leaving home when Mum needed help, marrying Thomas even though Mum objected, having only one child when she wanted grandchildren.
Emily listened, unable to believe her ears.
Did you go to university? You got a degree, didnt you? Thats a crime?
Lucy shrugged. You could have studied here. There are good universities in York too.
Emilys mind whirled.
Lucy, I moved for work! My career is real.
Your career is an excuse. You never listened to Mum, always did the opposite.
The opposite of what?
Living for yourself, not for us.
Lucy hung up. Emily stood in her oneroom flat, the walls trembling with the absurdity of it all. She hadnt been invited to her own mothers birthday because, according to Mum, she was a bad daughter.
She sank onto the sofa, covering her face with her hands. Tears rose, but she swallowed them. There was no time to cry; she needed to understand what was happening.
She dialed Mum again. This time Mum answered.
Emily, why are you calling? Lucys handling everything, dont worry.
Mum, why didnt you invite me?
Mum sighed heavily.
Darling, you know why. You barely call, barely visit. It hurts.
I live three hundred miles away! I cant be there every week!
Lucy lives right here, a halfhour drive!
So you think I chose to leave?
You chose work, a family, a life away from me.
Emily felt a wave of helplessness wash over her.
Its my 60th birthday, Mum. How can I not be there?
You should have been a better daughter.
I try!
Its never enough. Lucy is always there, and I want to spend the day with people who value me.
I love you!
Show it, not just say it. Im sorry, Emily. Its decided.
The line clicked shut.
Later, Thomas came home, his eyes widening at Emilys redstained face.
Whats wrong, love?
She told him everything. He frowned, shook his head.
Thats absurd! How can a mother not invite her own daughter?
Apparently she can.
And Lucy? How could she let this happen?
Lucy has always sided with Mum. Ive always felt like the extra one.
Thomas sat beside her, trying to soften the blow.
Maybe its a misunderstanding?
No, its years of builtup resentment.
Emily paced the room.
Ive always felt guilty for leaving, for marrying Thomas against Mums wishes, for having only James instead of a brood of grandchildren.
You had the right to choose, Emily.
I did, but each choice seemed to cost me something.
Thomas put his arm around her shoulders.
Perhaps its better you dont go. Youll spare yourself the drama, the whispers behind your back.
Emily wondered if that was true.
The next day she called Aunt Agnes, always kind to her.
Aunt Agnes, did you see the chat about Mums birthday?
Of course, dear. Im sorting out a gift.
Did you notice I wasnt listed?
Agnes paused.
I did, love. It surprised me.
And you said nothing?
What could I say? Its Mums decision. Lucy explained it to me.
She said I rarely visit, that Margaret (Mum) is hurt.
Agnes sighed.
Youre far away, you cant be there every week.
Lucy is nearby, she brings Mum groceries, goes to the doctor, helps around the house.
So youre a bad daughter because you live elsewhere?
No one called you bad, just that Margaret wants attention. Shes lonely.
I send money, I call when I can!
Money isnt the same as presence.
I cant just move back!
Agnes understood.
No one asked you to. Just try to see Mums perspective. Shes sixty, scared, wants company.
Im not scared, Im angry!
Then speak calmly. Maybe itll work out.
Emily hung up, hoping calm could change anything.
Later, cousin Clara messaged:
Emily, I saw youre not on the guest list. Is that true?
Yes. Mum doesnt want me.
Thats madness! Youre her daughter!
She thinks Im a bad daughter.
Should I talk to Aunt Margaret? Maybe shell change her mind?
Try, if you want.
Clara promised to try. Emily doubted it, but any hope felt better than none.
The following day Clara called.
I spoke to Mum.
And?
Shes steadfast. She says shes tired of your indifference, that you abandoned her. Lucy backs her up.
So I should call more? Visit more?
Emilys anger flared.
I call three times a week, I visit every monthandahalf. Thats all I can manage.
Maybe thats not enough?
How much is enough? Every day? Move in?
I dont know. She just feels abandoned.
I feel guilty for no reason. Enough. Im done defending myself.
She hung up, hands trembling, the chorus of you call too little, you visit too little, you give too little echoing.
Her son James entered, sixteen, lanky, his fathers eyes.
Mum, why are you so sad?
Just problems.
What kind?
She couldnt share the family drama, but his concern broke her.
Grandma didnt invite me to her birthday.
Jamess eyes widened.
Why not?
She says Im a bad daughter.
Thats nonsense! You call, you visit, you send money!
Apparently thats not enough.
James sat beside her, his shoulders tense.
Maybe you should just skip it? If everyone there is that toxic, why go?
Its my mother, James.
If she doesnt respect you, does it matter?
Emily looked at him. It was simple, brutal honesty. She loved her family, even the tangled parts, but she could not ignore the pain.
A week passed, the birthday loomed. Lucy posted another reminder in the chat:
Reminder: the party is next week. Anyone who hasnt confirmed, please do so. Need a final headcount.
Emilys name was still absent, as if she never existed.
She decided on one last attempt. She drove to York unannounced, pulled up to her mothers townhouse.
Mum opened the door, surprised.
Emily? What are you doing here?
May I come in?
Mum grudgingly let her in. The house was the same: faded sofa, a faded family portrait, but now a large framed picture of Lucy with her children dominated the mantel.
Sit, love. Want some tea?
Yes, thank you.
They sat in the kitchen, the kettle whistling.
Im here to talk about the birthday.
Mum set the cup down.
No need. Ive already decided.
Thats unfair! Im your daughter!
Youre the daughter who left.
I didnt leave! I went to study, to work, to build my own life!
Exactly, your own life, not mine.
Emilys anger boiled over.
I was twenty when I left! I had the right to shape my future!
You had a choice. You could have stayed, married a local lad, had more children, been near.
Thomas is a good man!
He took you away from me.
He didnt take me; we chose to live where his job was.
Mum waved her hand dismissively.
Its all the same. Youre far, Im alone. Lucy is close, she looks after me.
I look after you too, in my own way!
Your way isnt enough.
Emily rose, voice steady.
You know what? No matter what I do, itll never be enough because Im not Lucy. I chose my path, and I have the right to it.
Wrong path.
My path! And I have a right to it!
Mum also stood.
You have a right, but you chose poorly.
Ill live my life. Youll have your party with those who value you.
Fine. I wont impose any more. Ill live my life, and you can have yours.
Emily grabbed her bag, left without looking back. Tears streamed, but she let them fall. She sat in the car, engine silent, the world empty around her. She had tried, she had spoken, but Mum would not hear.
Back home, Thomas noticed her distress.
How did it go?
Shes unyielding.
Maybe its a blessing? Youll be free from that guilt.
Maybe.
Emily lay on the sofa, closed her eyes. The guilt that had gnawed at her for years began to loosen.
The day of the birthday arrived. In York, relatives gathered, tables laden, glasses clinking, Mum smiling through strained teeth. Lucy stood beside her, arms around her shoulders. Emily, in her flat, watched the photos flood the chat, each image a reminder of the family she was not part of. She turned off her phone, let the night swallow her.
The next morning Aunt Agnes called.
Emily, love, how are you?
Im fine, Aunt Agnes.
I was at the party yesterday. Mum was a bit sad, smiling but forced. When everyone left, she broke down, said she missed you.
Emily sat up, heart pounding.
She missed me?
Yes. She said she expected you would come, that youd push through. But you didnt.
So she didnt really mean she didnt want me?
She admitted she was wrong, that shed tried to manipulate, to test you. She realised shed overstepped.
Emilys mind swirled.
All this time, a test?
It seems so. She regrets it now.
I Im tired of these games.
Shes learning, love. Shes old, doesnt know how to show love properly.
Maybe shell change.
Perhaps you could be the first to reach out, if you feel ready.
Emily hesitated.
Im not sure I want to be the one who starts.
She needs you, darling, even if she cant say it well.
She ended the call, the weight of the conversation settling like dust.
Weeks passed. Mum called a few times, conversations short, strained. Lucy stopped writing. Relatives fell silent. Emily turned inward, enrolling in yoga, reading books shed long postponed, finally sleeping through the night.
James noticed the shift.
Mum, you seem different.
In a good way.
Happier.
Emily smiled. She finally felt lighter, as if a heavy cloak had been lifted.
One evening Aunt Agnes phoned again.
Emily, how are you?
Good, Aunt Agnes.
Mums changed after the birthday. Shes quieter, less complaining. She even apologised to Lucy for the way she spoke about you.
She did?
Yes. She said shed been unfair, that shed tried to control you.
Emily felt a strange warmth.
Should I call her?
Shed like that, but only if youre ready.
Emily thought of the past weeks, of the endless demands, of the dreamlike absurdity of being excluded from her own mothers celebration. She realized that love could exist even at a distance, that boundaries were not betrayals.
A month later, Mum called unexpectedly.
Emily, may I come stay with you for a few days? I havent seen James in ages.
Emily was taken aback.
Of course, Mum.
Mum arrived on a Saturday, they met at the station, embraced awkwardly, then settled into the kitchen. They talked about weather, about the new café down the road, about small things.
Later, after the children were asleep, Mum spoke softly.
Im sorry for the birthday. I tried to test you, to see if you truly cared. It was cruel. I see now you have a life, a family, and I shouldnt have expected you to drop everything.
Emily listened, heart beating calmly.
Thank you for saying that, Mum. I love you, but I cant be there every day. Ill call, Ill visit when I can.
I understand. Ill try to accept that.
They held each others hands, the silence filling with a gentle peace.
Mum stayed three days, helping James with his homework, sharing tea with Thomas, laughing at old family stories. When she left, she hugged Emily tightly.
Thank you for not turning away.
I could never.
Back on the platform, as the train pulled away, Emily felt the dream dissolve, replaced by a quiet, ordinary morning. She walked home, the future stretching ahead, unfamiliar yet hopeful.
Life continued: work she loved, a husband who supported her, a son who grew wiser each day, and a mother learning to love from afar. The old wounds faded, the strange, surreal logic of the dream giving way to a new, steadier rhythm.
And somewhere, Lucy watched from her own life, perhaps ready to reach out when she, too, felt the pull of reconciliation.
