“Your wedding will happen, but Im not needed there,” the daughter snapped, eyes glued to her phone.
“Are you kidding me? Did you forget to pay the gas bill again?” Gillian Parker slammed the utility notice onto the kitchen table, scattering the papers across the tiles.
“Love, I told you the payroll was delayed,” her husband Colin muttered, looking guilty. “Itll be on tomorrow, I promise.”
“Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! And the money’s due today!”
“Dont shout, Emily! Shes sleeping!”
“Emily isnt sleeping, shes glued to that phone, as always!”
Gillian drifted into the upstairs bedroom. Twentyfouryearold Emily lay on her bed, face illuminated by the smartphone, a faint, detached smile frozen on her lips.
“Emily, are you coming down for dinner?” Gillian asked.
Silence.
“Emily!”
“Yeah” the girl never lifted her head.
“Come on, are you eating or not?”
“I dunno.”
Gillian sighed and retreated to the kitchen. When Emily was little they had been inseparable. Gillian remembered the tiny girl racing home from nursery, hugging her, spilling every secret she could think of. Then school, university, and now a stranger in a neighbouring flat who barely spoke a word.
Half an hour later Emily drifted into the kitchen, perched at the table, typing furiously.
“Emily, could you put the phone down for a moment?” Gillian pleaded. “Lets have a proper chat.”
“About what?”
“Work, anything new?”
“All the same.”
“And that blokewhats his nameMax? Are you still seeing him?”
Emily glanced up, irritation flickering in her eyes.
“Mum, Im twentyfour. I dont have to give you a report on my love life.”
“Im not demanding a report. Just curious.”
“Fine, were seeing each other. Thats it.”
Gillian poured tea for herself, ready to ask another question, but hesitated, fearing another sharp retort.
“By the way,” Emily suddenly set the phone aside. “There will be a wedding. In May.”
Gillian froze, tea halfway to her lips.
“A wedding? Youre getting married?”
“Yes. Max proposed, I said yes.”
“Emily!” Gillian sprang up, trying to hug her. “Sweetheart, thats huge! Why didnt you tell us earlier?”
“When earlier? He asked me just yesterday.”
“But you could have mentioned it this morning! Or at least hinted!”
“I forgot.”
Gillian sank back into her chair. Forgotten. The daughter had forgotten to tell her mother about the engagement.
“Alright,” she forced a smile. “The important thing is youre happy. Whens the date? Where? How can we help?”
“In May. No exact day yet. Well be at a restaurant.”
“And the dress? We could go pick one together! Remember how you used to stare at my wedding photos as a child, saying you wanted a dress just like that”
“Mum, Ive already chosen. I went with Maxs mother.”
“His mother?”
“Yes. She paid for it, so we went together.”
A sharp sting lodged in Gillians heart. The wedding dress every girl dreams of choosing it with her mother. Yet Emily had gone with her future motherinlaw.
“I could have gone too,” Gillian whispered. “We could have all gone…”
“Why? Youd still clash. Youd want something simple, and Lydia would insist on something extravagant.”
“I dont want simple! I want you to feel included!”
Emily rolled her eyes.
“Mum, stop. The dress is bought. End of story.”
“And the guests? How many are we inviting? I need to make a list from our side”
“No need. Lydia already has a list. Shes handling everything.”
“But Im your mother! I should be involved!”
“Why? Lydias got the best venue, the best DJ, the best photographer. She has the contacts, the experience. What can you do? Call the village hall and ask for a polka band?”
The words cut Gillian like a knife. She paled.
“Emily, how can you say that?”
“Just being honest. Youve got no money, no connections, no taste. Sorry, but thats the truth. Lydia has all that. So why do you think we need your help?”
“Im your mother”
“And that gives you the right to meddle where you dont belong?”
Gillian stood, fled the kitchen, closed her bedroom door, and collapsed onto the bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didnt wipe them.
Colin peeked in a few minutes later.
“Love, whats wrong?”
“Emilys getting married.”
“Really? Well, thats wonderful! Why are you crying?”
“Because Im not needed there, Colin. Do you get it? My own daughter thinks I have no place at her wedding.”
“Dont say that!”
Gillian recounted the argument. Colins brow furrowed deeper.
“Shes a cheeky girl! Ill talk to her.”
“Dont. Youll only make it worse.”
“But you cant just stand by! Shes your daughter, youve been there all her life! And she tells you youre useless!”
“Please, stop shouting. Im exhausted.”
Colin hugged her and they sat in silence.
The next morning Gillian rose with a heavy head. Shed spent the night replaying yesterdays exchange. Emily had already left for work, leaving a grimy mug on the kitchen counter.
Gillian called her friend Tammy.
“Tammie, can I come over?”
“Of course! Whats happened?”
“Ill tell you when I get there.”
They met at a café near Tammys flat. Gillian ordered tea and spilled the whole story.
Tammy shook her head.
“The younger generation, no respect, no sense of duty!”
“Tammie, maybe Im the one who doesnt get weddings, restaurants”
“Girl, youre a mother! You dont need to manage it all. Just be there, support, rejoice! Let Lydia handle the money if she wants. Youre still the centre!”
“Emily doesnt think so.”
“Then tell her straight: either you help with the preparations, or you dont come at all.”
Gillians breath caught.
“Not coming to my own daughters wedding? Tammy, are you serious!”
“Then what else? She doesnt appreciate you! Shell see what its like without a mother!”
“No, I cant. Its her day. The most important day.”
Tammys voice hardened. “Shes planning it without you thats cruel. Youre letting her trample over you.”
Gillian returned home, bruised by Tammys words. She kept hearing the phrase let her trample over you. Could it be true?
That evening Emily arrived late. Gillian heard her footstep into her room and gathered courage.
She knocked.
“Yes?” a voice called from behind the door.
Gillian entered. Emily sat at her laptop.
“Emily, I need to speak with you.”
“I’m busy.”
“This is important.”
Emily turned in her chair.
“Yes?”
Gillian perched on the edge of the bed.
“Listen, about the wedding. I understand Lydia has more resources. But I also want to be part of it, even just a little.”
“Mom, I already explained”
“Hold on. Let me finish. I could manage the invitations, or the decorations, or at least put together our sides guest list. Im not asking for the lead role. Just to be involved.”
Emily sighed.
“Fine. You can make the list. But no more than twenty guests.”
“Twenty? Why so few?”
“Because Maxs side will bring fifty. The venue holds eighty. So we get the leftovers.”
“But I have relatives, friends! My godmother, my cousins!”
“Godmother is an outdated concept. Cousins dont matter to me. Invite whoever you like, but keep it to twenty.”
“This is unfair!”
“It’s fair! Maxs parents are covering half the costs. What are you covering? Nothing! So you get fewer seats.”
Gillians face flushed.
“Well pay our share”
“With what? Dad earns £300 a month, and your pension is peanuts! Where will the money come from?”
“Well take a loan!”
“Dont! We dont need your loan! Lydia has already paid everything!”
Gillian rose, stunned.
“So were poor, and theres no room for us at our own daughters wedding?”
“Mom, stop the drama! I never said youre poor! Just that you have fewer possibilities.”
“So Lydias got more, therefore shes the boss now?”
“Yes!” Emily shouted. “Shes the boss because she can provide what you cant money, contacts, status! And you? Planning a cheap wedding in a cafe with bargain champagne?”
“I can give love! Support! Be there!”
“I dont need that! I need a beautiful wedding! The kind normal people have!”
“Are we not normal?”
“No! Youre poor! Youve always been poor! And Im fed up!”
Gillian stood, stunned as thunder. Emilys gaze was a challenge, her breathing shallow.
“Leave,” Emily whispered. “I have work.”
Gillian slipped out of the room, met Colin in the hallway. Hed heard everything.
“Im going to kill that girl,” Colin muttered. “How dare she speak to you like that!”
“Dont touch her. Shes just embarrassed by us.”
“Embarrassed? We raised her for twentyfour years, gave up everything for her! And shes embarrassed?”
“Quiet, please. My head hurts.”
Gillian collapsed onto the sofa, pulling a blanket over herself. Colin sat beside her.
“Love, maybe we shouldnt go to the wedding at all?”
“Dont be ridiculous.”
“Why be ridiculous? If were not needed, why go?”
“Shes my daughter, Colin. My only child. I cant miss her wedding.”
“Even if she insults you?”
“Even then.”
Colin sighed, rubbing her hair.
A week passed. Gillian compiled a guest list, squeezing twenty names by crossing off old friends and distant relatives. She showed it to Emily.
“Fine,” Emily said without looking. “Send it to Lydia; shell add it to the master list.”
“Should I call her myself? Get to know her?”
“Why?”
“Because were now family!”
“Not yet. And anyway, dont bother. Lydias a very busy woman.”
“So Im not busy?”
Emily rolled her eyes and retreated to her room.
Gillian mailed the list to the number Emily gave her. An hour later a reply came: “List received. Invitations will be sent later. Lydia”
Dry. Formal. No extra words.
She tried to write a friendly note, but held back. What if Lydia thought it intrusive?
Another month slipped by. No invitations arrived. Gillian asked Emily.
“Oh, I forgot to mention. There wont be any invitations. Everyone will just be told the time and place.”
“But why? Invitations are tradition!”
“An old tradition. Nobody does that now.”
“Mom, can I at least see a photo of the dress?”
“Why?”
“So I can see it!”
“Youll see it at the wedding.”
“But”
“Leave me alone, please! I have a lot to do!”
Gillian stepped back. Every conversation turned into a torment.
One night she could no longer bear it and dialed Lydias number, found in Emilys messages.
“Hello?” a pleasant female voice answered.
“This is Gillian Parker, Emilys mother.”
“Ah, hello. How can I help?”
“Id like to meet, maybe have coffee together?”
A pause.
“Mrs. Parker, I appreciate the offer, but Im swamped with wedding prep. No time.”
“I can help!”
“Thank you, but I dont need help. Everythings under control.”
“But Im the mother of the bride! I should be involved!”
“Mrs. Parker,” Lydias tone hardened, “Emily asked me to run the wedding. If you want changes, speak to her, not me.”
“”
“Sorry, I must go. See you at the wedding.”
The call ended. Lydia also saw her as unnecessary.
That evening Gillian decided to confront Emily.
“Emily, sit down, please.”
“I’m in a rush, I have a meeting with Max.”
“Just five minutes.”
Emily grudgingly perched on the edge of a chair.
“Listen, I get that you want a beautiful wedding. I get that Lydia has more resources. But you said the wedding will happen, but Im not needed there. Did you really say that?”
Emily frowned.
“I never said that.”
“You did. Not directly, but the meaning was clear.”
“Enough! Im not kicking you out! Youll be at the wedding, like everyone else!”
“As a guest?”
“Yes, as a guest.”
“Not as the mother of the bride?”
“Whats the difference?”
Gillian felt her throat tighten.
“The mother of the bride is the principal person after the couple. She blesses them, gives a toast, hugs the bride before the ceremony. A guest just sits in a corner and sips champagne.”
“Mum, those are oldfashioned ideas! Times have changed!”
“How?”
“Now its all about looks, style, Instagram likes! Your sentimental stuff about blessings is from another era!”
“So Im from another era?”
Emily stood.
“Listen, Im tired of this! Come to the wedding or dont. I dont care!”
“I dont care?” Gillian echoed, rising. “Do you really not care if your mother stands at your wedding?”
“Yes! Because youll just whine, complain, feel unappreciated! Im fed up!”
“Im not whining!”
“You are! All your life! Always the victim! Everyone elses fault!”
Gillian stepped back, stunned.
“Emily”
“Enough! Im leaving!”
Emily grabbed her bag and stormed out, slamming the door.
Gillian sank onto a chair, sobbing. Colin entered, wrapped his arms around her.
“We wont go,” Gillian whispered through tears. “Im not going to that wedding.”
“Right,” Colin nodded. “Good decision. I wont either.”
“Are you sure? Youre the father. You should be there.”
“Youre the mother!”
“But they dont want me.”
Colin held her, both silent.
Another week ticked down. Ten days left to the wedding. Gillian barely slept, ate little. Colin kept urging her to at least try to reconcile.
“Love, call her. Say youll be there.”
“I cant. Im not needed.”
“Youre needed! Youre a mother!”
“Mother who isnt right.”
Colin sighed and stopped pressing.
One evening a knock sounded. Gillian opened the door to find Emily, eyes red, hair messy.
“Mum,” she whispered.
“Emily? What happened?”
Emily collapsed onto the sofa, weeping.
“Max cheated on me with my friend. I found out today.”
Gillian sat beside her, holding her tightly. Emily buried her face in Gillians shoulder, sobbing like a child.
“Shh, shh,” Gillian cooed, running her fingers through Emilys hair. “Itll be okay.”
“It wont! The weddings in ten days! Everythings paid! Guests are invited!”
“We could cancel.”
“But Lydia has poured so much money into this!”
“Lydia will survive. You, youre what matters.”
Emily lifted her tearstreaked face.
“Mum, Im sorry. I was awful. I was ashamed of you, thought you werent good enough. Lydia and Max seemed perfect, successful I wanted to be like them.”
“What now?”
“Now I see I was wrong. Lydia found out about the cheating and still wants the wedding to go ahead, saying Max is still the right match. And you you just held me.”
“Because Im your mother. I love you, no matter what.”
“Even after everything I said?”
“Especially after.”
Emily sobbed harder. Gillian pressed tighter.
“Because youre my daughter. Thats all that matters.”
Emily sniffed. “Can I stay here for a while? I dont have a place.”
“Emily, this is your home. Stay as long as you need.”
“Thanks. And sorry for everything.”
Gillian hugged her, tears mixing.
Colin peeked in, saw them, smiled faintly, then slipped back out, giving them space.
They stayed like that through the night, talking about school days, about how Emily had begun to feel ashamed of her parents, about the pressure to be like the rich. Emily confessed, “I thought if I were like the others, Id be loved.”
“Youre already loved,” Gillian said. “By me.”
The next morning Emily called Max and told him the wedding was off. She then called Lydia, thanked her for the help but explained she wouldnt marry.
Lydia tried to persuade her, speaking of money and reputation, but Emily stood firm.
“Stop living someone elses life,” she said. “Its time to live my own.”
When the calls ended, Emily turned to her mother.
“Mum, can I stay with you until I find a flat?”
“Emily, this is your house. Stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you. And forgive me for everything.”
Gillian hugged her tighter. “Ive forgiven you long ago.”
They sat at the kitchen table, finally sharing tea and real conversation for the first time in years. In that moment Gillian realized her daughter wasnt lost; shed simply needed to walk through pain to see what truly mattered.
Love, not money, not status, not a perfect wedding, but a mothers unwavering love that always welcomes you back.
