Your son is the worst of the lotnothing good will ever come of him!
Emily froze in the doorway, a cake teetering in her hands. Her mother, Margaret, stared at her with a thinlyveiled displeasure, as if Emily had committed some grave offence.
Mother, what are you on about? Emily set the cake on the kitchen table. What does Mike have to do with this?
Its that hes already in Year11 and still at a ordinary state school, Margaret snapped, raising her voice. No special programmes, no advanced courses. How is he supposed to get into a respectable university? How will he ever achieve anything?
Emily bit her lip. The argument fell into the familiar pattern, and a sharp sting of injustice flared in her chest.
Mike does well in his studies. He gets As in most subjects, has a maths tutor, and wants to go into programming like his father.
Exactly! Margaret flung her arms wide. Programming! Sitting behind a computer, just like your brother Sam. A runofthemill job, a runofthemill salary. And you? A teacher, a tutorliving on pennies. Are you even feeding your child properly?
Emily clenched her fists. Margarets words cut straight to the most vulnerable places. Yes, Sam and she werent wealthy; they had to watch the pound. But Mike grew up happy.
Our life is fine. And Mike is happy.
Happy? Margaret scoffed, moving to the window. Look at Jamess sonnow thats a real treasure. Anton goes to a school that offers intensive English from the first year. He speaks fluently already. James and his wife Lena are brilliantthey pour money into their child without a second thought.
Emily listened in silence. Her brother had always been the golden child. Hed started a small business, bought a bigger flat, and his wife Lena didnt work, staying at home with their son. Margaret never missed a chance to set them against Emily.
Anton is a gifted boy, Margaret went on, warming slightly. Hell definitely make something of himself. James says theyll send him abroad for a language course when hes thirteen. Thats real foresight, not the ordinary school you chose.
Emily stepped closer, seeing the tension in Margarets shoulders and the stern set of her face.
Mother, I know you want grandchildren to succeed, but Mike isnt worse than Anton. Theyre just on different paths.
Different paths! Margaret turned sharply. One path leads up to success, the other to drudgery and poverty. Is that what you want for your son? To live in destitution?
Something tightened inside Emily.
Were not poor. We live within our means. Mike will grow into a good mansmart, kind, hardworking.
Hardworking isnt enough these days, dear, Margaret snorted. You need connections, money, a prestigious education. What does Mike have? A regular school and a mother who can barely stretch the budget.
Emily looked away. In front of her sat the berrytopped cake shed baked with love, now seeming superfluous.
Mother, I dont want to argue. We raise our son the way we think is right, and hes happy.
The future is what matters! Margaret moved nearer. Youre ruining him with your complacency. James understands that. Hes doing everything so Anton can become someone important. Youre just drifting.
Emily shook her head. Arguing was pointless; Margaret would not budge.
Fine, Mother. Lets just have lunch. Sam and Mike will be here soon.
As expected, the meal unfolded under a tense atmosphere. Margaret babbled on about Antons brilliance and Jamess pride. Mike ate quietly, stealing glances at his grandmother. Emily forced a smile, trying to convince herself everything was okay.
After that lunch Emily decided to keep her visits to Margaret to a minimum. The constant comparisons were too painful. She still called her mother and James on holidays, sending the usual greetings, but she no longer arranged family gatherings. Margaret took offense, yet Emily stood firm, protecting her son from the relentless negativity.
Years passed. Mike grew, studied, and fell in love with programming. Emily heard occasional updates about Jamess side of the family. Anton had left school with a gold medal, entered a prestigious university with the help of his fathers connections.
Mike also finished school, earned a place at a reputable technical college on a scholarship, passed his exams honestly, and by his third year was working at a modest IT firm. Emily and Sam were proud, but Margaret continued to single out Anton in conversation.
More years slipped by. The children were approaching thirty. At Margarets birthday, the whole family gathered. James and Lena arrived, as did Antontall, goodlooking, with a careless haircut. He had quit his first job after a short stint, claiming he wanted to pursue music and form a band. James had invested in equipment. Two years later the band was still unheard of, and Anton lived with his parents, unemployed.
Emily watched her mother beam at Anton, hugging him, patting his head, asking about his musical projects. He answered lazily, yawning, scrolling through his phone. Margaret failed to see his indifference; to her, Anton remained the golden grandson.
Mike sat beside his wife, Eleanor, who was four months pregnant. He worked for a large tech company, earned a solid salary, rented a flat, and was saving for a house. Yet Margaret seemed blind to her own grandsons achievements.
Emily saw Sams jaw tighten, watched Eleanors worried eyes, but Mike kept smiling, gently rubbing her hand. Evening stretched on. Margaret regaled the guests with stories of Antons future fame. Anton nodded politely, while Emily remained silent.
When the night finally wound down, Sam, Mike, and Eleanor left first, promising to wait at the car. Emily was tying a scarf in the hallway when Margaret approached.
Emily, wait a moment. I need to tell you something.
Emily froze. Margarets tone was low but serious.
Your Mike is so dull, Emily. Grey, ordinaryjust like you and Sam. No spark at all. Anton, on the other hand, is a genius, a star. Hell show the world. Your son just lives, works, marries, soon has a child. Theres nothing remarkable about that. Hes just another face in the crowd.
Emily stared at her mother, feeling something inside shatter. She exhaled slowly, meeting Margarets eyes.
You know, Mother, Ive thought about this for a long time. I assumed you wanted me to be a better mother, to push harder for Mike, to invest more in him. I thought your criticism came from a good place, meant to spur me on.
Margaret frowned, but Emily raised her hand.
But the truth is simpler. You never loved my son. All this time you showed it through endless comparisons, through praise of Anton, through thinlyveiled contempt. You didnt want him to improve; you just wanted me to feel that he was never good enough for you.
Margarets face went pale. Emily buttoned her coat calmly.
And you know what? My son is the best. Hes smart, kind, diligent, honest. Hes grown into a wonderful man, soon to be a father, and will be an excellent dad because I never let him hear your poison. I shielded him from your bitterness.
Margaret stared, eyes wide and empty. Emily grabbed her bag.
Keep your opinions about me, Sam, and our son to yourself. Im done listening. Ive wasted years trying to earn your love, and I wont waste any more. Live as you wish, love whomever you like. Im washing my hands of this game. Ill soon have a grandchild of my own, and Ill love him the way a grandmother should.
Emily walked out, closed the door behind her, and descended to the car where Sam, Mike, and Eleanor waited. Sam embraced her, Mike smiled. She settled into the passenger seat, feeling a strange, unfamiliar calm settle over her, as if a weight had finally been lifted. No more pretence, no more trying to prove herself.
It took years, but she finally freed herself from her mothers judgment. She now has what truly matters: a loving partner, a devoted son, and a growing family. In the end, she realised that a persons worth isnt measured by the accolades of others, but by the love and integrity they nurture in their own circle. The real lesson was simplelisten to the quiet confidence of a good heart, not the loud applause of a fleeting reputation.
