Everyones invited to the birthday, except you, announced my sister in the family group chat.
Enough, Mum! I cant be driving up every week! I have a life of my own! I gripped the phone, feeling the heat rise inside me. It was the third call that day, each one sounding the same.
Emily, how could you? Lucy dropped by yesterday with a tin of scones. And you havent phoned all week!
Mum, I called the day before yesterday! Ill bring scones too, just not every single day.
Exactly, not every day. Lucy does it every week. Thats what a daughter should be.
I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and let the familiar sting of those words settle. The pattern repeated itself over and over. My older sister, Lydia, had always been Mums favourite, ever since we were children.
Darling, I have to work early tomorrow. Can we talk later?
Sure, sure, youre always too busy. Lucy still finds time for Mum, but you
I hung up without a goodbye. I was exhausted, weary of the endless comparisons.
The phone buzzed. A new message appeared in the family chat. I opened it and saw a long post from Lydia.
Hello, everyone! As you know, Mums 60th birthday is coming up. Im organising a dinner at The Oakshire Hall. All relatives are invited. Ive booked a table for twenty. Please confirm your attendance by Friday.
Below was a list of invited relatives: aunts, uncles, cousins, even a thirdcousin from Leeds wed only met once. I scrolled to the end. My name was missing.
I reread the message, hoping Id misspotted it. It wasnt there.
I typed back into the chat:
Lucy, am I invited?
The reply came instantly:
Everyones invited, except you. Mum decided that.
The words blurred on the screen. I read the reply three times, wondering if it was a joke, if Lydia was being cruel. No, the chat filled with confirmations: Aunt Zoe said shed be there, cousin Simon wrote hed arrive with his wife. No one asked why I wasnt on the list.
I dialled Mum. The line rang three times, then silence. She didnt answer.
I called Lydia.
Hello? Her voice was flat, almost indifferent.
Lucy, whats this? Why am I not on the guest list?
I told you. Mum doesnt want you at her party.
Why?
Lydia paused.
She thinks youre a bad daughter, that you dont care about her.
Thats not true! I call, I visit, I help!
Apparently not enough, Lydia said, a hint of satisfaction creeping in. Mum said she doesnt want to see you at her celebration, and Im backing her up.
Youre backing her? Im your sister!
And thats why I know the real you selfish, only looking after yourself.
What are you talking about?
That youve lived exactly how you wanted. You left town when Mum needed help. You married Victor, even though Mum disapproved. You only had one child, though she hoped for grandchildren.
I stared at the phone, unable to believe my ears.
Is this serious? I asked.
Yes, Lydia replied. You never listened to Mum. You always did the opposite.
My life! I protested.
Mums life too. If she doesnt want you at her birthday, then thats that.
She hung up. I stood in my onebedroom flat, stunned that I had been excluded from my own mothers milestone because I was, in her eyes, a bad daughter.
I sank onto the sofa, covering my face. Tears rose, but I held them back. There was no time to cry; I needed to understand what was happening.
I dialled Mum again. This time she answered.
Emily, is it true youre not invited to my birthday?
Lucys handling everything, dont worry.
Im asking why Im not invited.
Mum was quiet, then sighed heavily.
Sweetheart, you know why. You call so rarely, you visit even less. It hurts.
Mum, I live three hundred miles away! I cant be there every week!
Lucy lives here. Shes half an hour away by car!
Exactly, shes nearby. I chose to move away.
I didnt choose, you did. My work, my family are here!
Right, your family. And Im not a part of it?
A wave of helplessness washed over me.
This is my birthday, sixty years. How could I not be there?
You should have been a better daughter earlier.
I try!
You try, but not enough. Lucy tries. I want to spend my day with those who love and value me.
I love you!
Then show it, not just with words.
Mum ended the call. I stared at the phone, feeling the weight of her disappointment.
Victor came home an hour later, saw the red in my eyes, and asked, Emily, whats wrong?
I told him everything. He frowned, shook his head.
This is absurd! How can a mother exclude her own daughter?
It seems you can.
What about your sister? How could she allow this?
Lucy has always been Mums righthand. Im the odd one out.
Victor sat down beside me. Maybe its just a misunderstanding?
No, its a pattern thats built up over years.
I paced the room. Ive always felt guilty for leaving, for marrying Victor against Mums wishes, for having only our son instead of the many grandchildren Mum wanted.
You had the right to choose your life, Victor said.
Yes, but every choice has a price.
He put his arm around my shoulders. Maybe its a blessing not to go. You wont sit through a party where they whisper about you behind your back.
I thought about that. Maybe staying away would spare me more pain.
The next day I called Aunt Zoe, who had always been kind to me.
Hello, Aunt Zoe, its Emily.
Emily dear! How are you?
I saw the message about Mums birthday. Did you notice I wasnt on the list?
She paused. I did. It surprised me, honestly.
Did you say anything?
Its Mums decision. Lucy explained it to me.
What did she say?
She said you rarely visit, you dont give Mum enough attention. Shes hurt.
I clenched the phone. I live far away! I cant be there every week!
I understand, but Lucy is nearby. She brings Mum groceries, drives her to appointments, helps around the house.
So Im a bad daughter because I live elsewhere?
Nobodys calling you a bad daughter. Mum just wants more presence. Shes lonely, its hard for her.
She has two daughters! I call, I visit when I can, I send money!
Money isnt the same as being there.
Yet I cant just move back!
She sighed. No one expects that. Just try to understand Mums feelings. Shes sixty, shes aging, shes scared.
Im not scared. Im hurt.
Its hurtful, of course. But try to talk calmly. Maybe it can be resolved.
I hung up, hoping for a calm conversation, but Mum never seemed to listen.
That evening my cousin Olivia messaged: Emily, I saw you werent on the guest list. Is that true?
I replied, Mum doesnt want me there.
She wrote back, Thats insane! Youre her daughter.
Im a bad daughter in her eyes.
Maybe Ill speak to Aunt Tamara.
I dont know if itll help.
A day later Olivia called. I talked to Mum.
What did she say?
Shes firm. She says shes tired of my indifference, that I abandoned her. Lucy backs her up. Theyre both set.
Should I call more often? Visit more?
Anger rose. I call three times a week, I visit once a monthandahalf. Thats all I can manage.
Is that not enough?
How much is enough? Every day? Move back?
Its not about the quantity, Emily. She feels abandoned.
I feel guilty for no reason. Im done explaining.
My son, Jack, entered the room, sixteen, lanky, his fathers eyes. Mum, why are you sad?
Just a problem, love.
What kind?
I didnt want to burden him with family drama, but his concerned look made me speak. Mum didnt invite me to her birthday.
Jacks eyes widened. Why not?
She thinks Im a bad daughter.
Thats nonsense! I call, I visit, I send money!
It turns out thats not enough.
He sat beside me on the couch. Maybe you should just skip it? If everyone there is that toxic, why go?
I looked at him. His straightforwardness struck a chord. If my mother didnt respect me, did I need to be there?
A week passed. I thought about the birthday constantlyanger, tears, frustration. Victor tried to distract me, but the ache stayed.
Lydia posted again in the group: Reminder: the birthday is next week. Anyone who hasnt confirmed, please do so. We need a final headcount.
Again, my name was absent, as if I didnt exist.
I decided on one last attempt. I drove to my hometown without telling anyone, just to show up.
Mum opened the door, surprised. Emily? What are you doing here?
Can I come in?
She grudgingly let me into the flat. The place looked the same: the old sofa, the faded rug, family photos on the mantel. A large framed picture of Lydia with her children now dominated the wall.
Sit down, Mum gestured to the sofa. Do you want tea?
Yes, please.
We sat in the kitchen, sipping tea. I didnt know where to start.
Mum, Im here to talk about the birthday.
She placed her cup down. No need, Ive already decided.
But thats unfair! Im your daughter!
Youre the daughter who left me.
I didnt leave! I went to study, work, build my own life!
Thats exactly why. You never thought of me.
I felt the heat rising again. Mum, I was twenty when I moved away. I had the right to make my own choices.
You had the right, but you could have chosen differently. Stay, marry someone from here, have more children, be near.
Victor is a good man!
He took me away from you.
He didnt! We decided together to live where his job was.
Mum waved her hand. Its all the same. Youre far, its hard for me.
But Lucy is close.
Shes close because shes the good daughter. She looks after me.
I care too, in my own way!
Your care isnt enough.
I stood up. You know what, Mum? No matter what I do, it will never be enough because Im not Lydia. I chose my path, and Ive the right to live it.
She sneered, Wrong path.
My path! And I have the right to it!
Mum also rose. Fine, live your life. Ill celebrate with those who value me.
Alright, I said, grabbing my bag. If thats how it is, I wont intrude any more. Live as you wish.
I left without looking back. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I didnt wipe them away. Let them fall.
In the car I sat with the engine off, the silence heavy. I had tried to negotiate, to be heard, but Mum wouldnt listen. Maybe it was time to let go.
Victor met me at the door, worry in his eyes. How did it go?
Nothing changed. Shes stubborn.
Maybe its a blessing. Youll be free from that guilt that has eaten at you for years.
Perhaps.
I collapsed onto the sofa and closed my eyes. Guilt had haunted me since the day I left our hometown, since Mums tears and Lydias accusations. I had convinced myself I was betraying Mum, while she expected me to be a shadow of Lydia.
The birthday arrived. While relatives gathered, set tables, exchanged gifts, and laughed, I stayed at home, uninvited, feeling like an outsider.
Victor suggested we go out, but I just wanted to lie down and do nothing.
Later that night the family chat filled with photos: Mum at the head of the table, smiling, Lydia tucked into her arm, relatives raising glasses. I scrolled through, feeling something inside tear apart. Everyone was thereexcept me.
I switched off the phone and fell asleep.
The next morning Aunt Zoe called. Emily dear, how are you?
Fine, Aunt Zoe.
I was at the party yesterday. Mum looked a little sad, smile forced. When everyone left, she broke down, cried because you werent there. She said she missed her favorite daughter.
I sat up, shocked. She cried because I wasnt invited?
Yes. I told her youd probably turn up anyway. She thought youd fight for a place.
Was that a test?
Seems like it. Lydia said it was nonsense, that if I wasnt invited I shouldnt come. They even argued over it.
What happened then?
Mum realised shed made a mistake. She said shed rather have you than feel empty. She regrets it.
I lay back, a mix of relief and sadness. Im tired of these games, these manipulations.
I get it, love. But know Mum misses you, she just cant show it properly.
Then let her learn.
A week later Mum called. Emily, can I come stay with you for a few days?
I was taken aback. Come here? What about Lydia?
I havent asked permission. Im an adult, I decide for myself.
Alright, come.
When she arrived at the station, we hugged awkwardly, the way only family does. In her flat she praised the tidy rooms, chatted with Victor and Jack, and we talked about the weather and the news over dinner.
Later, after the men had left, Mum and I were alone in the kitchen.
Mum, I wanted to apologise for the birthday, she began. I was wrong. I tried to manipulate you, to test your love. I thought if I didnt invite you, youd still come and prove yourself.
I didnt come, I replied.
Yes, and I realised Id overstepped. You have every right to your own life. I cant expect you to live the way I want.
Thank you for understanding.
Its hard for me, honestly. I miss you close, but I accept its impossible now.
I can be close from a distancecalls, visits when I can, but not every day, not on demand.
I get that. Ill try to accept it.
Hows Lucy? I asked.
Shes angry. When I said I was coming to see you, she said I was betraying her.
What did you tell her?
I told her I love both of you, just in different ways.
She smiled. Thats true. She can be near, help daily. I cant.
It doesnt mean I love you any less.
Mum took my hand. I know now. I was wrong.
We sat in silence, holding each others hands, feeling a small wound begin to heal. Mum stayed three days, helped with chores, played with Jack, chatted with Victor. When she left, she hugged me tightly.
Thank you for not turning away, she said.
Youre my mother. I couldnt.
I could have, but I didnt. I set boundaries, and that was right.
I watched the train disappear, feeling a chapter close. Old roles and expectations faded, making room for something new.
Back home Victor asked, How was the visit?
It was good. We really talked.
What did you decide?
Well build a new relationshiphonest, without games.
Will it work?
I dont know, but well try.
I curled up with a book. Life went on with its joys and challenges, with family nearby each day and Mum far away but still present.
Lydia never wrote again. I stopped worrying about when she might be ready. I had my own life: a job I loved, a supportive husband, a son who made me smile, and a mother learning to respect my choices.
That balance felt like freedom. The guilt that had gnawed at me for years loosened. I finally understood that I didnt have to sacrifice myself to be a good daughter. I could love my mother while living my own life.
The lesson is simple: love does not demand surrender; it thrives when boundaries are respected, and when each person is allowed to be themselves.
