28 October 2025
Dear Diary,
I still cant wrap my head around what James said that night: Its all your friends fault. I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me. I tried to protest, Hold on, hold onwhat are you even talking about? and he laughed, Oh, of course you dont get it! You like to play the innocent, the everhelpful, the clueless one. Do you think Ill just stand by and ignore everything?
Sometimes life feels like its finally falling into place. I have a modest income, a loving family, a decent circle of friends, and even a boyfriend who cares for me. And then, out of the blue, a tiny, almost invisible irritant appearslike a grain of sand in a glass of champagne. At first its barely noticeable, but the longer it stays, the more it grates on me, making me want to fling it far away, to never have to see its awful colour, taste, or hear its voice again.
For me, that grain was someone I was supposed to cherish: my best mate, Claire. Wed been inseparable since nursery, and everything seemed fine for years. It wasnt until we left university and stepped into adulthood that things began to shift. Our social circles diverged, and Claires life seemed, in my eyes, a step behind mine. Perhaps envy crept in; perhaps she felt left behind. Whatever the reason, that jealousy found a strange outlet.
For the first couple of yearsmaybe fiveit didnt bother me much. But eventually, like water wearing down a stone, the little annoyances started to pile up. Ill never forget the moment she said, Emily, that dress isnt suitable for a mum-to-be. She went on, Sure, you could buy it, but you need to get your shape back first; by the time that happens, the style will be out of fashion a hundred times over. Better to stick with that suit we looked at earlier.
I was just out of the fitting room, standing there, feeling a heat rise in my chest. Can you stop feeding me these nasty comments? I snapped. What kind of comments? she shot back, eyes wide. You know, not for a mumtobe, you need to sort yourself out first Are you a fashion police?
I told her bluntly, You called me over to help you pick something out, and Im being honest. If you only wanted me to say yes, it looks great, take it, you should have said so from the start. She retorted, What am I supposed to say? That I shouldnt be bothered by your toxic attitude? That there are limits to whats normal? I was at my wits end. Stop, stopthis makes no sense to me.
She replied, Exactly, you dont understand! You pretend to be clueless, kindhearted, and clueless about everything. Do you think Ill just sit back and watch you soak up all this negativity? Do you think Ill stay a naïve fool for you to dump your bitterness on? I told her I wouldnt, and that Id had enough. Dont call me again, dont even say hello.
I grabbed the dress anyway and fled, leaving Claire frozen in the doorway like a statue. She seemed more upset about the stares of onlookers than about our argument, as if the real issue was that some petty insult had landed on her. She lingered for a couple of minutes, as if weighing something, then, with a sigh, walked out of the shopping centre as if nothing had happened.
Since then I havent called her, nor have I tried to mend things. I understood where the sudden dislike had come from. Either I would hear it from Claire or notthere was nothing more I could do from the outside. I continued living the life I thought was best for me. The snide remarks about helping relatives, my husbands involvement in family affairs, and especially the ones about my little girl Lucys new nursery start finally stopped.
When my motherinlaw, Eleanor, heard about the row she just sighed and murmured something about shell have to shake off the parasites on her neck sooner or later. My own mother, Margaret, said the same. Then the oddities began.
First, at Lucys nursery, the new careassistant, who oddly sounded like Claire, mentioned that Lucy showed some behavioural quirks that could point to a notsopleasant diagnosis. She suggested seeing a neurologist and a psychiatrist, preferably privately, to catch any issues early. My motherinlaw scoffed, Oh, they just want to stick a label on the child. Weve never had a autistic or any kind of lunatic in the family. Yet, to quiet my conscience, I took Lucy for the appointments. The doctor said, Its good you came early; the younger they are, the easier it is to correct any small troubles and help them settle into a normal life.
That reminded me of a comment Claire had made half a year earlier about seeing a specialist for Lucy. Back then I dismissed Claire as toxic and bad, and her words seemed irrelevantuntil they proved otherwise.
Future calls from my mother and Eleanor turned into subtle manoeuvres. Claire kept saying that the grandmothers werent really after the grandchild; they were after my purse. As soon as the familys cash flow started to thin, the grandmothers vanished one after another, always replying to my pleas for childcare with, Wed love to, dear, but were swamped, lifes hectic.
Then my husband, James, dropped the bomb that he wanted a divorce. Emily, I promised to stand by you in good times and bad, but Lucys supposed diagnoses and the constant whirlwind around her leave me with no time for the rest of the family. I cant go on like this. In a few months, what had been a happy household fell apart.
I moved Lucy into the flat my late grandmother had left me. That meant another fight with my own mother, who had grown used to using that flat for hosting endless family gatherings. Emily, you realise itll be terribly inconvenient if you move in there! Family should support each other in tough times, and yet you She was already tired of hearing that. Claire, watching from the sidelines, claimed that I was receiving all the help onesidedly, and that she never let go of toxic comments. In reality, shed been trying, as best as she could, to open my eyes to the mess inside my family.
Now my mother, as if nothing had changed, is trying to revive old patternsafter she herself repeatedly refused to help my daughter during hard times. Shes more worried about where to put visiting relatives than where Lucy will live with her grandmother. Claire was right about everything, apparently. And I? Im the one whos messed up. I should have listened to my friend and looked at things from her angle, but I didnt.
After finally reconciling with my mother and settling into my grandmothers flat, I gathered a bouquet, a bottle of champagne, and a box of chocolates, hoping the gifts wouldnt be thrown back at me at the door. I knocked on Claires flat, gulping, Claire, please hear me out, dont shut me out straight away. She opened the door, sighed, and let me in with my gentlemans kit.
We wept, promised friendship, and swore wed never again suspect each other of any hidden agenda. I finally saw who truly wished me well and who only thought of themselves when the going got tough. We managed to mend our friendship, though Claire warned that any repeat of the past would not be forgiven, and I vowed never to let it happen again.
James tried to make amends later, but I flatly refused to rebuild what he had shattered. He shouted, Its all your friends doing! Shes turned you against the family! The same line was thrown at me by my mother, by Eleanor, as if they didnt realise theyd built their own crumbling crib.
So here I am, diary, scribbling down the wreckage and the tiny grains of sand that finally slipped out of my hand. Its a strange relief to have let it all out. I hope tomorrow brings a steadier tide.
Emily.
