My mother chose a man over me: how she betrayed me for a stranger
My name is Emily, Im 17, and Im from Manchester. Ive kept this story buried inside me for a long time, silent, but now Im ready to tell it. Maybe someone will see themselves in it. Maybe someone will rethink their actions. Or perhaps at least one mother will think twice before betraying her own daughter, like mine did.
My parents divorced when I was ten. I cant say we were a happy family before thatthe arguments, the blame, the distance between them were obvious even when I didnt fully understand. But after the divorce, it got worse. My mother and father seemed to fight over my attention, not out of love, but duty. I was shuffled between flats like an unwanted suitcase. At my dads, it was cramped but peaceful. With my mum, there was space, but each year, the tension grew suffocating.
Everything fell apart when a new man entered my mothers life. His name was Daniel. He was in his thirties, nearly ten years younger than her, and he immediately acted like he owned the place, while I was just an inconvenience. At first, hed flash a polite smile, pretending to care about me. But the masks slipped fast. He hated that I lived with my mum. He hated that she spent money on me. He didnt hold back from saying my dad was irresponsible, that I was a burden, and that I should “stand on my own two feet” by now.
He manipulated my mother, took her money, convinced her she didnt need a teenage daughter, that she deserved freedom and to focus on herself. And my mother she listened. She stopped noticing my tears at night. How Id quietly grab my books from the kitchen just to avoid them. How Id lock myself in the bathroom for an hour, just to sit in silence.
The final straw came one night when I heard them arguing again. The shouting was so loud the windows shook. I ran out to stand between them, to protect my mumI was scared hed hit her. But it went differently. He looked at me with such anger my chest tightened. I yelled, “Enough! Stop shouting at her!”and then, I was hit. Hard. His fist struck my face so violently I fell, slamming into the edge of a cupboard. Everything went blurry. The last thing I remember is my mum screaming and then silence.
I thought hed leave. That shed throw him out, hold me close, call a doctor, tell me she loved me. I hoped. I searched her eyes for some sign of rescue. But she just whispered, “Youve ruined everything.” An hour later, she told me I had to go live with my dad.
I packed in silence. My heart ripped from its roots. I didnt cry. I didnt shout. I just left, realising I no longer had a home.
Now, I live with my dad. He tries his best, but we dont have the closeness I desperately wanted with my mum growing up. I dont hope for her calls, her apologies, her visits anymore. Though in my heart, Im still that little girl waiting for her mother to open the door and say, “Forgive me, love.” But it wont happen. She chose a man. She chose *him*the one who hit her child.
I dont wish her harm. But I know one day, hell leave her. Hell find someone younger, prettier, more pliable. Hell abandon her. And maybe then, shell remember me. But I wont be the one who forgives everything. Because a mothers betrayal is a wound that never heals.
To all parents: dont have children if you wont be there for them, if you cant put them above your love dramas. Were not to blame for the choices of your heart. We didnt ask to be born. But if you brought us into this worlddont betray us.
Mum, if you ever read this know I survived. I got back up. Im strong. But Ill never come crying to you again like I used to. Youre not my mum anymore. Youre just the woman who gave birth to me.
