15 November 2025
Tonight the house feels colder than ever, though the kettle is still whistling on the stove. I sit at the kitchen table, the same place where Ive spent countless evenings trying to keep the world together, and I cant shake the weight of the days argument.
Are you kidding me? You forgot to pay the council tax again? Helen Thompson snapped, slamming the unpaid bill onto the counter until the papers fluttered across the tiles.
Helen, I told you the shift got delayed at the factory, Mark muttered, his shoulders drooping. Ill sort it tomorrow, I promise.
Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! You have to pay today! she retorted, her voice sharp.
Dont yell, love. Evelyns still asleep.
Shes not asleep, shes glued to her phone as usual!
I stepped into the spare bedroom where Evelynmy twentyfouryearold daughterwas perched on the bed, face lit by the glow of her smartphone, a faint, detached smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Eve, are you coming to dinner? I asked.
Silence.
Evelyn!
She didnt look up.
Yeah are you eating or not?
I dont know.
I sighed and returned to the kitchen. When she was little, we were inseparable; she would race home from nursery, throw herself into my arms, and babble about everything she had seen. School, university, and now she lives in the next room, barely speaking to me.
Half an hour later Evelyn drifted into the kitchen, perched at the table, still typing away.
Eve, could you put the phone down for a moment? Lets have a proper chat.
Whats there to talk about?
Hows work? Anything new?
Same old.
And James? You two still together?
She finally lifted her eyes from the screen, a flash of irritation crossing her face.
Mum, Im twentyfour. I dont have to give you a running commentary on my love life.
Im not demanding a report. Just curious.
We are still together. Thats it.
I poured myself a mug of tea, wanting to ask more but fearing another cold rebuff.
By the way, Evelyn set her phone down abruptly, the wedding is happening in May.
My cup hovered midair.
A wedding? Youre getting married?
Yes. James proposed, I said yes.
Eve! I leapt up, trying to hug her. Sweetheart, why didnt you tell me sooner?
When? He only proposed yesterday.
But you could have mentioned it this morning! Or at least hinted.
I forgot.
She shrugged, as if forgetting a birthday was no big deal.
Okay, I forced a smile. The important thing is youre happy. Whens the date? Where? How can I help?
Mayno exact day yet. Itll be at a restaurant.
And the dress? We could go together, remember how you used to love looking at wedding photos? You said youd want a dress like that someday.
Mum, Ive already chosen one. My motherinlaw and I went together.
Her mother?
Yes. She paid for everything, so we went together.
A sting twisted in my chest. The wedding dress is supposed to be a motherdaughter moment, yet she went with Margaret Collins, Jamess mother, instead of me.
I could have gone too, I whispered. We could have picked it together.
Why would I? she snapped. Youd want something simple, and Margaret would push for something extravagant.
I dont want simple! I want you to be happy!
She rolled her eyes.
Enough, Mum. The dress is bought. End of story.
What about the guests? How many are we inviting? I need to make a list for our side.
Theres already a list. Margaret has everything organised.
But Im your mother! I should be involved.
Why? Margaret has the best venue, the best DJ, the best photographer. She knows the right people. What can you do? Call the village hall and ask for a cheap accordion band?
Her words cut like a knife. My face went pale.
How can you say that?
Its the truth. You dont have the money, the connections, the taste. Margaret does. So why should we bother?
Im your mother
So what? That doesnt give you a right to meddle where youre not welcome.
I left the kitchen, retreated to my bedroom, closed the door, and sank onto the bed. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I didnt wipe them away.
Mark peeked in a few minutes later.
Helen, whats wrong?
Evelyns getting married.
Really? Thats wonderful! Why are you crying?
Because Ive been told Im not needed at my own daughters wedding, Mark.
You cant be serious!
I recounted the argument. Marks brow deepened.
That brat! Ill talk to her right now.
Dont. Youll only make it worse.
Its not right! Shes my daughter, Ive spent my whole life on her, and she tells me Im useless!
Please, stop shouting. Im exhausted.
He pulled me into a hug, and we sat in silence.
The next morning I woke with a heavy head. The night had been sleepless, replaying the conversation over and over. Evelyn had already left for work, leaving a dirty mug on the counter. I called my friend Tom.
Tom, can I stay at your place for a night?
Of course! Whats happened?
Ill tell you when I get there.
We met at the café near Toms flat. I ordered tea and poured out everything.
Young people today have no respect, no sense of decency, Tom grumbled.
Maybe Im the one who doesnt understand weddings and restaurants?
Youre a mother, Helen. You dont have to sort everything out. Just be there, support her, be happy for her. Let Margaret handle the money and the planning. Youre still the main person in her life.
But Evelyn doesnt think so.
Then tell her this: either you help with the preparations or you dont attend at all.
That struck a chord.
Not attend my own daughters wedding? Tom, youre mad!
What else can I do? She doesnt value me! Let her see what its like without a mother there.
Dont. Shes having the most important day of her life, and youre planning to stay away.
Toms words lodged in my mind: Dont let her step on you.
Later that evening Evelyn came home late. I heard her retreat to her room and finally knocked.
Yes?
I entered. She was at her desk, laptop open.
Eve, we need to talk.
Im busy.
This is important.
She turned in her chair, irritation clear.
What?
I sat on the edge of the bed.
About the wedding. I get that Margaret has more resources, but I also want to be involved, even a little.
Mom, Ive already explained
Just hear me out. I could help with the invitations, the décor, the guest list on our side. Im not asking to run the whole show, just to be part of it.
Evelyn sighed.
Fine. You can put together a list, but limit it to twenty people.
Twenty? Why so few?
Jamess side will bring fifty, the venue holds eighty. Thats the remainder.
But I have relatives, friends, my godmother, my cousins!
Godmother is an oldfashioned term. Cousins dont matter. Invite who you want, but keep it to twenty.
Its unfair!
Its fair. Jamess family is paying half the costs. What are we covering? Nothing.
My husband earns thirty thousand pounds a year, my pension is peanuts. Where will the money come from?
Well take a loan.
No, we dont need a loan! Margaret has already paid everything!
I felt my face burn.
Well pay our share
With what? Your husbands salary and your tiny pension?
Well get a loan!
Dont. Margaret has already handled it all!
I rose, the words striking me like a blow.
So were poor, and theres no room for us at our own daughters wedding?
Mom, stop the drama. Im not saying were poor, just that we have fewer means.
And Margaret has more, so shes now the boss?
Yes! Evelyn shouted. She can give what you cantmoney, connections, status! And you? Youd organise a cheap café wedding with lowbudget champagne?
I can give love, support, be there.
Thats not enough! I want a beautiful wedding, the kind normal people have!
Are we not normal?
No, were poor, weve always been poor, and Im tired of that.
I was stunned, my mouth dry.
Leave, she said quietly. I have to work.
She grabbed her bag and slammed the door. I sank into a chair, sobbing. Mark entered, wrapped his arms around me.
Im not going to that wedding, I whispered through tears.
Good. You dont have to endure it.
Let her celebrate with Margaret!
Mark stroked my hair, unsure what to say.
Evelyn didnt stay the night. I lay awake, listening to every creak in the house. In the morning she texted: Im staying at Jamess tonight. Ill come back for my things later.
I replied simply, Okay.
The day drifted in a fog. Mark went to work; I wandered the flat, replaying every moment, asking myself where I went wrong. Did I spend too much on school fees I couldnt afford? Did I buy cheap groceries instead of splurging on nice clothes? I was a nurse, now retired, my husband a factory worker. We lived modestly but tried to give Evelyn everything we could. Apparently, it was never enough.
A week later, after no call from Evelyn, I received a call from Margaret Collins.
Hello, Helen. Its Margaret.
Hi.
Id like to meet about the wedding.
Sure.
We met at a café in Manchester. Margaret, elegant in a tailored coat, makeup immaculate, exuded confidence.
Ill be blunt, Helen. Evelyn asked me to speak with you because she fears another shouting match.
She cant speak for herself?
Shes scared of a scene.
My fists clenched under the table.
Listen, Im happy to help, but Im the one organising everything. If you want to be involved, speak to her directly, not through me.
I understand, I said, voice shaking. But I wont be at the wedding then.
You wont? she asked, surprised.
Im only in the way.
She turned away, and I left the café, tears blurring the streetlights. I wandered to the park, sat on a bench, and dialed Evelyns number.
Eve?
Its Mum.
I know youve spoken to Margaret. She said you wont see me at the wedding.
Yes.
Tell me honestlyam I such a terrible mother that you hate me?
There was a long pause.
I dont hate you, Mom. I just feel you want me to be you. I want my own life.
What do you want from me? Love? Respect?
Both, but on my terms. Not yours.
Im not trying to control you. Im trying to care.
To me thats the same.
Does that make me a bad mother?
No. Just different.
The call dropped. I sat there, the cold wind biting my cheeks, feeling the shards of a life I thought I understood crumble.
Back home, Mark asked if I was still going to the wedding.
I wont go.
He nodded. I wont either.
We sat together in silence, the weight of it all pressing down.
Ten days remain until the wedding. I havent slept, Ive barely eaten. Mark keeps urging me to at least try to reconcile, but the thought of being a useless guest haunts me.
One evening there was a knock. I opened the door to find Evelyn, eyes red, hair a mess.
Mum, she whispered.
Whats happened?
She fell onto the sofa, sobbing.
James cheated on me with my friend. I found out today.
I held her, my own tears mixing with hers.
Its okay, love. Well get through this.
The weddings in ten days. Everythings paid, the guests are set.
We can cancel if you want.
But Margaret has invested so much money.
Margaret will manage. The most important thing is you.
Evelyn lifted her tearstreaked face.
Im sorry, Mum. I was awful. I was ashamed of us, thinking you werent good enough. Margaret and James seemed perfect, successful. I wanted that.
Now what?
I realise I was wrong. Margaret told James the wedding will go on regardless, but I need you here, not just for the ceremony but now, after everything.
I tightened my embrace.
Because Im your mother, and I love you, no matter what.
She cried harder, and I stroked her hair, whispering reassurance.
Mark peeked in, saw us, and gave a small, relieved smile.
We talked through the night about childhood, school, the moment she first felt embarrassed about us.
I thought if I were like the rich couples, Id be loved, she confessed.
Youve always been loved, Evelyn. By me.
The next morning she called James, told him the wedding was off. She also called Margaret, thanked her for everything but said she was calling it quits. Margaret tried to argue about money and reputation, but Evelyn stood firm.
Enough living someone elses life, she said. I need to start my own.
She then asked if she could stay with us until she found a new flat.
Eve, this is your home. Stay as long as you need.
Thank you, Mum. Im sorry for everything.
We sat at the kitchen table, finally having a real conversation for the first time in years. The tea was warm, the silence comfortable. I realised that my daughter hadnt been lost; shed simply needed to go through pain to see what truly mattered.
Love isnt measured in pounds, venues, or designer dresses. Its the simple act of a mother holding her daughters hand and saying, Im here, always.
