**Diary Entry**
“Youre a fool, Emily, an absolute fool! That good-for-nothing Charlie will leave you homeless one day! Hasnt he put you through enough already?” Mum never minced her words when it came to my husband.
“Mum, Charlie and I have been married for 37 years, and youve spent every single one of them warning me about him! Please, just stay out of it!” I shouted into the phoneagain.
I avoided seeing her as much as possible because I knew the scripthow my husband was a scoundrel, a rogue. Id long stopped trying to defend him, even though there was some truth in her words.
…Back in my younger days, Id left Charlie once, in a fit of anger. We already had our five-year-old son, Thomas. Wed had a blazing row, and I ended up in hospital with a concussion. I thought it was overdivorce, single motherhood. After my discharge, I went straight to Mums, where Thomas had been staying while I was ill.
Mum sighed heavily and declared, “Tell me I was wrong. That mans a brute! Stay here. Your father and I will help you raise Thomas.”
“Ill think about it,” I muttered, exhausted and unsure.
“Dont thinkjust stay! That monster might hurt Thomas next! I wont let you go back!” She might as well have bolted the door.
Mum had despised Charlie from the start. Shed even hidden my dowry, sneering, “Let your wonderful fiancé clothe and feed you himself.”
…A week later, Charlie showed up, full of remorse. Mum barred the door, hurled insults, and slammed it in his face. I only found out latershed said nothing when I returned from walking Thomas.
After a month of stewing, I decided to go back. Marriage has its ups and downs, as they saycouples fight but always share the same blanket. Besides, I loved Charlie. Thered never been anyone else.
I hatched a planId fetch our winter clothes, a perfectly reasonable excuse as the cold set in. So, without telling Mum, I took Thomas and went home.
Charlie was stunned but overjoyed. We were a family again. Mum was livid.
…Truthfully, Mum and I never argued before. She was kind, caring, wonderfulbut there was a skeleton in her closet.
At fourteen, I found her diary. It had been buried in the attic among old magazines. I only found it because I needed the globe for geography homework. As I picked up the mess, a pretty notebook caught my eye. I opened itand wished I hadnt.
…Turns out, I was sent to an orphanage right after birth, despite having plenty of relatives. My supposed father had refused me, saying, “How do I know you didnt get knocked up by someone else?” The man who raised me wasnt my real father. Mum had written that times were hard, but shed bring me home soon.
…Shed lived in a village where gossip spread like wildfire. A child born out of wedlock wouldve been scandalous. It took a year before my aunt shamed the family into taking me back.
That evening, I confronted Mum. She tore the diary to shreds without reading a wordshe knew every line by heart. But Id already seen it.
From then on, a wall rose between us. I felt betrayed. Anger festered like tar. The invisible threads binding mother and daughter had snapped.
I swore then that my children would be raised by their real parentsno stepfathers, no stepmothers.
Charlie, sensing Mums hatred, suggested having another child”She wont drag you away with two kids,” he said. I agreed.
Our little Henry was born. Mum still raged, “Oh, Emily, that tyrants trapped you with another baby! And youre daft enough to believe him! That dog cheats left and right. Mark my wordsyoull regret it.”
She wasnt wrong. There were plenty of thorns in my side… Charlie was a charmer, and women flocked to him. I shed many tears. How could he resist? Handsome, silver tongue… They clung to him like wet leaves.
The day I ended up in hospital, wed fought over one of his brazen flings. Shed waltzed into our house, certain I was at workbut Id left early with a headache.
I walked in to find them half-dressed in the bedroom, champagne in hand. I stood there, arms crossed, but the girl grabbed her things, shoved me aside, and bolted. I fell, hit my head, and woke up concussed.
Charlie behavedfor a while. But a leopard cant change its spots. There were coworkers, old flames, chance encounters… Still, I thanked God he never fathered any bastards. That wouldve been a mess.
Years later, my Thomas repeated historya mistress, a secret child. His poor wife… Hed learned from his father too well.
I dont know what Mum wants. Once your child marries, your jobs done. Visit, help with the grandkidsbut keep your advice to yourself unless asked. Dont put the cart before the horse.
Let grown children make their own mistakes. Its their life.
As my gran used to say, “Tend to your own garden.”
This eternal feud between generations wont ever end. People keep stepping on the same rake, deaf to reason.
Mum and I havent spoken in three years. We sulk like children. She tells everyone her son-in-law isnt fit to lick my boots.
But Mum… maybe I deserve that man.
I dont want anyone else.
