Everyones invited to the birthday except you, announced my sister in the family WhatsApp group.
Enough, Mum! I cant drive up every weekend! I have a life of my own!
Marigold pressed the handset to her ear, feeling a hot knot tighten inside. It was the third call of the day, the same plaintive accusations over and over.
Marigold, whats this? Lucy was here yesterday, brought a cake. And you havent called all week!
Mum, I called the day before yesterday! I bring the cake too, just not every single day!
Exactly not every day. Lucy does it every week. Thats what a daughter ought to be.
Marigold shut her eyes, counted silently to ten. The arguments looped endlessly. Her older sister Lucy had always been Mums favourite, from the moment they could crawl.
Mum, I have to be at work early tomorrow. Can we talk later?
Of course, of course. Youre always too busy. Lucy still finds time to work, but she makes it work.
Marigold hung up without a goodbye. She was exhausted, tired of the perpetual comparisons.
The phone buzzed. A message appeared in the family chat. Marigold opened the app and read Lucys long post:
Hello all! As you know, Mums 60th birthday is coming up. Im organising a dinner at The Rose & Crown. All relatives are invited. Ive booked a table for twenty. Please confirm your attendance by Friday.
The list went on: aunts, uncles, cousins, even a thirdcousin from York, someone theyd met only once. Marigold scrolled to the bottom. Her name was missing.
She read the message again. Mistake? No. She really wasnt on the list.
She typed back:
Lucy, am I invited?
The reply arrived instantly:
Everyones invited except you. Mum decided that.
Marigold stared at the screen. The words blurred, then sharpened, then blurred again. Was it a joke? Had Lucy just been cruel?
No one in the chat questioned the omission. Aunt Zara confirmed she would come, cousin Stephen said hed arrive with his wife. The silence was deafening.
Marigold dialled Mum. The line rangonce, twice, three timesno answer. She called Lucy.
Hello? Lucys voice was calm, almost indifferent.
Lucy, whats this? Why am I not on the guest list?
I told you. Mum doesnt want you at her party.
Why?
Lucy paused.
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 slipping through. Mum said she doesnt want you there, and Im backing her.
Youre backing her? Im your sister!
And thats why I know what you really areselfish, only thinking of yourself.
What are you talking about?
That you left town when Mum needed you. You married Victor, even though Mum objected. You had only one child, even though Mum wanted grandchildren.
Marigold could not believe her ears.
Lucy, are you serious? I went to university! I got a degree! Thats a crime?
You could have studied here. There are universities nearby.
My specialty was there! Victor is a good man; its just Mum everything is wrong for her!
Exactly, everything is wrong. You never listened to Mum. You did everything opposite.
This is my life!
And Mums too. If she doesnt want you at her birthday, then so be it.
Lucy hung up. Marigold stood in her oneroom flat, stunned that she had been excluded from her own mothers celebration because she was a bad daughter.
She sank onto the sofa, hands covering her face. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them. There was no time to weep; she had to understand what was happening.
She dialled Mum again. This time Mum answered.
Marigold, why are you calling? Lucy is handling everything, dont worry.
Mum, why wasnt I invited?
Mum sighed heavily.
My dear, you know why. You hardly ever call, you hardly ever visit. It hurts.
I live three hundred miles away! I cant be there every week!
Lucy lives in the same town! Shes half an hours drive away!
See? Shes close, youre far. You chose to leave.
I didnt choose! My job, my family are here!
Exactly, your family. And Im not family then.
A wave of helplessness washed over Marigold.
This is your birthday, Mum. Sixty years. How can I not be there?
You should have been a better daughter earlier.
I try to be a good daughter!
Trying isnt enough. Lucy tries. I decided to spend my day with those who love and value me.
I love you!
Show it, not just with words. Sorry, Marigold. Decisions final.
Mum hung up. Marigold clutched the phone, unable to process.
Victor returned a hour later, his eyes widening at her reddened face.
Marigold, whats wrong?
She recounted everything. Victor frowned, shook his head.
Thats absurd! How can you not be invited to your own mothers birthday?
It seems you can.
What about your sister? How could she allow this?
Lucy has always sided with Mum. Theyve been a pair since childhood. Im the odd one out.
Victor sat beside her.
Maybe its just a misunderstanding?
No, its years of buildup.
Marigold paced.
Ive always felt guilty for leaving, for marrying Victor against Mums wishes, for having only one child, Alex, instead of the three Mum wanted.
You had the right to choose, Victor said.
You did, but every choice has a price.
Victor hugged her shoulders.
Maybe its better not to go. Youd spare yourself the hurt, the whispers behind your back.
She wondered. Maybe it was indeed wiser not to attend.
The next day she called Aunt Zara, who had always been warm to her.
Aunt Zara, hi. Did you see the message about Mums birthday?
I saw it, dear. Im picking out a present.
Did you notice I wasnt on the list?
Zara paused.
Yes, I was surprised, honestly.
And you said nothing?
What can I say? Its Mums decision. Lucy called, explained.
What did she say?
She said you rarely visit, dont give Mum enough attention. That Tamara is hurt.
Marigolds grip tightened on the phone.
I live far! I cant visit every week!
I understand, love. But Lucy is nearby. She brings Mum groceries, helps around the house.
So Im a bad daughter because I live elsewhere?
No one called you a bad daughter. Its just that Tamara wants company. Shes lonely.
She has two daughters! I call, I visit when I can, I send money!
Money isnt the same as presence. She wants people close.
I cant drop everything and move back!
Zara sighed.
No one asks that of you. Just try to understand Mum. Shes sixty, shes aging, scared.
Isnt it my turn to be scared?
Of course it hurts. Try talking calmly. Maybe itll work out.
Marigold hung up, hoping for a calm conversation that never came.
That evening a cousin, Katie, messaged.
Marigold, I saw you werent on the guest list. Is that true?
It is. Mum doesnt want me.
Thats madness! Youre her daughter!
A bad daughter, in her eyes.
What if I speak to Aunt Tamara? Maybe shell change her mind?
Try if you want.
Katie promised to try, though Marigold had little hope.
The next day Katie called.
I spoke to your Mum.
And?
Shes firm. She says shes tired of your indifference, that you abandoned her.
I didnt abandon her!
I told her that, but shes convinced. Lucy backs her up. Theyre both set.
Got it.
Maybe you should call more often? Visit more?
Marigold felt anger flare.
I call three times a week, I visit once a monthandahalf. Thats the most I can manage.
Is that not enough?
How much more? Every day? Move in?
I dont know. She just feels deserted.
I feel guilty for no reason. Enough.
She hung up, trembling, surrounded by the same refrain: call less, visit less, give less.
Her son, Alex, entered the room, sixteen, lanky, his fathers eyes.
Mum, why are you so sad?
Just problems.
What kind?
Marigold didnt want to burden him, but his concerned stare made her speak.
Mum didnt invite me to her birthday.
Alexs eyes widened.
How could she not? Why?
She thinks Im a bad daughter.
Thats nonsense! You call, you visit, you send money!
Turns out thats not enough.
Alex sat beside her on the sofa.
Maybe we should just skip it? If everyones that cruel, why go?
Its my mother, Alex.
So what? If she doesnt respect me, does it matter?
Marigold looked at her son. His simple logic cut through the fog. Family was messy, but it was still family.
A week passed. She thought about the birthday constantly anger, tears, frustration. Victor tried to distract her, to support her, but the ache lingered.
Lucy posted again in the group: Reminder, the birthday is in a week. Anyone who hasnt confirmed, please reply. Need a final headcount.
Marigolds name was still absent, as if she never existed.
She made a final attempt, driving to her hometown without warning.
Mum opened the door, surprised.
Marigold? What are you doing here?
Can I come in?
Mum grudgingly let her in. The flat looked the same: the old sofa, the faded rug, family photos on the mantel, but now a large picture of Lucy with her grandchildren dominated the wall.
Sit, Mum nodded toward the sofa. Tea?
Yes, please.
They sipped in silence.
Mum, Im here to talk about the birthday.
Mum placed her cup down.
No need, Ive decided.
But thats wrong! Im your daughter!
Youre the daughter who left.
I didnt leave! I went to study, work, live my own life!
Exactlyyour own life. I never thought of me.
Mums voice rose.
When you were twenty, you could have stayed, married a local lad, had children, been near.
Victor is a good man!
He took you away from me.
He didnt! We chose to live where his job was.
Mum waved her hand.
Its the same outcome. Youre far, Im hurt.
Lucy is close.
Shes close because shes a good daughter. She cares for me.
I care too, in my own way!
Your care isnt enough.
Marigold stood, fury building.
Mum, Ive realized that no matter what I do, it will never satisfy you because Im not Lucy. I chose my path, and thats my right.
Wrong path.
My path! And I have a right to it!
Mum also rose.
You have a right, but you could have chosen differently. Stayed, married someone here, raised a big family.
Victor is decent.
He stole you from me.
He didnt steal we decided together.
Mum shrugged.
Its all the same. Youre far, its hard for me.
Lucy is near.
Shes near because shes a good daughter. She looks after me.
I look after you too, in my own way!
Your way isnt enough.
Marigold breathed out.
You know what? Ill stop forcing myself into your expectations. Live my life. If you cant accept that, fine.
Mum responded, Fine. Ill have my birthday with those who value me.
Marigold grabbed her bag. Then I wont intrude any more. She left without looking back, tears streaming, unwashed.
In the car she sat motionless, engine off, the world outside a mute void. She had tried, negotiated, pleadedbut Mum wouldnt listen.
Victor met her at the doorstep, worry etched on his face.
How did it go?
Noshes unyielding.
Maybe its for the best? Youll be free from that guilt.
Maybe.
She collapsed onto the sofa, eyes closed. The guilt that had haunted her since the day she left home now felt lighter, as if a weight had finally been set down.
The birthday arrived. In the hometown, relatives gathered, tables laden, glasses clinking, Mum smiling stiffly, Lucy hugging her shoulders. Marigold stayed at home, a silent observer, uninvited, unnecessary.
She scrolled through the photos flooding the family chat: Mum at the head of the table, Lucy laughing, cousins raising toasts. The absence of her own face was a hollow echo.
She turned off her phone and lay down to sleep.
The next morning Aunt Zara called.
Marigold, love, how are you?
Fine, Aunt Zara.
I was at the party yesterday. Wanted to tell you
I saw the pictures.
No, listen. Mum was oddly quiet, smiling through the cracks. When everyone left, she broke down.
Marigold sat up.
Why?
She said she missed you, that her favourite daughter wasnt there.
Aunt Zara, she didnt invite me!
I told her you werent invited so shed assume youd show up. She thought youd push through, prove your love.
So it was a test?
Yes. Lucy said it was nonsense, that if you werent invited, you should stay away. They even argued about it.
What happened after?
Mum admitted shed made a mistake. Shed tried to control, to test you, and now she regrets it.
Marigold lay back, a mixture of fatigue and relief.
Im tired of these games, these manipulations.
I get it, love. But know Mum does miss you, even if she cant show it properly.
Then let her learn.
Exactly. Shes thinking about it now.
Marigold thanked her and hung up, feeling a strange calm.
Weeks passed without calls from Mum, without messages from Lucy. A private message appeared from Lucy:
Mum asks why you dont call.
Why? She doesnt want me.
Dont be childish. Shes just grieving.
Whole birthday without me.
Stop sulking. Call Mum, shes worried.
Let Lucy call. Shes the favourite.
Lucy never replied again. After a few days Mum called herself.
Marigold, why arent you calling?
Because you said you want to be with those who value you. I guess Im not one of them.
Oh, Marigold, dont be upset.
Im not upset, Mum. I just live my life, as you wanted.
What did you want?
For you to drop everything and move back? To be here every day like Lucy?
Mum was silent.
I wanted you to love me.
I love you! I just cant live the way you want!
Why?
Because thats my life! I have a husband, a son, a job! I cant abandon it.
Mum wept.
So Im not important to you.
Youre important, just not the only important one. Thats normal, Mum.
Mum sniffed.
I didnt mean to hurt you with the birthday.
But you did.
I thought youd still come, prove your love.
I didnt.
Now I see I overstepped. I cant demand you live as I wish.
Marigold listened, the old resentment softening.
What if I need more?
Then talk to Lucy. Or find someone else.
But youre my daughter!
Yes, a daughter, not a possession, not a project.
Mum fell silent.
I didnt plan to hurt you with the party.
But you did.
I hoped youd still come, show you still cared.
Mum, if you want my attention, dont set traps. Just say you miss me, and Ill try to be there when I can.
When I can, Mum repeated, bitterness fading.
Yes, when I can. Thats better than never.
Mum cried again, but Marigold didnt give in to the tears.
Okay, Mum. Think about what I said. If you can accept me as I am, call. If not, thats your choice.
SheLater that night, a quiet knock on the door revealed Mum, holding a modest bouquet, and she whispered, Im sorry, love; lets start anew.
