When my daughter told me she was getting married soon, I was overjoyed. “I’m so glad you found a young man you love,” I told her with a smile, my heart swelling with pride and happiness.
But to my shock, she made a face of disgust and replied, “Love? Surely you don’t think I’m that stupid?”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I stood there, stunned, trying to process what she had just said. This revelation was only the beginning of my painful lesson.
Later that week, my daughter invited her fiancé over for dinner and asked me to cook. I spent the entire afternoon preparing a feast, hoping to create a warm and welcoming atmosphere. When she saw that the table was set for three, she snapped, “Three? What are you thinking, Mom? Tonight you’re the maid.”
The pain I felt in that moment is indescribable. My daughter, my pride and joy, was treating me like a servant in my own home. Devastated, I excused myself and went to my dear friend Anne’s house.
“You let this girl trample all over you!” Anne exclaimed after I recounted the incident to her.
Anne was always the fiery one, never afraid to stand up for herself. “She deserves a good lesson! You sleep here tonight, and tomorrow I’m fixing Miss Nicky for good!”
I was hesitant, unsure of what Anne had in mind, but the hurt and betrayal I felt made me agree. So, I spent the night at Anne’s, seeking comfort in her support and friendship.
The next day, Anne came over to my house with a determined look on her face. She had a plan, and I was ready to see it through.
When my daughter and her fiancé arrived, Anne greeted them warmly. “Hello, Nicky! Why don’t you and your fiancé have a seat? Tonight, your mother and I will serve you.”
Nicky, thinking she had won, smirked and sat down. Anne and I served them dinner, maintaining a polite and subservient demeanor. But as the evening progressed, Anne began to subtly shift the tone.
“So, Nicky,” Anne began, “you must be so proud to have such a wonderful mother who does everything for you.”
Nicky shrugged, looking bored. “I suppose.”
Anne continued, “You know, in my day, we were taught to respect our parents. They sacrificed so much for us.”
Nicky rolled her eyes. “Times change.”
Anne’s eyes twinkled with a hidden mischief. “Indeed, they do. But some values remain timeless.”
As dinner wrapped up, Anne stood up, her voice firm and authoritative. “Nicky, your behavior has been disgraceful. You don’t treat your mother like a maid. You respect her and appreciate her sacrifices. Your fiancé should know the kind of woman he’s marrying—a selfish, ungrateful girl.”
Nicky’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger. “How dare you!”
Anne held her ground. “How dare you! This woman raised you, loved you, and supported you. If you can’t see that, then you don’t deserve her kindness.”
Nicky’s fiancé, looking uncomfortable, said, “Maybe we should go.”
Nicky glared at him but stood up to leave. Anne wasn’t done yet. “One more thing, Nicky. Your mother deserves better. If you continue to treat her this way, you’ll find yourself without her support.”
Nicky stormed out, dragging her bewildered fiancé with her. Anne turned to me, her expression softening. “Sometimes, tough love is necessary. She needed to hear that.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude. “Thank you, Anne. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Anne hugged me tightly. “You’re strong, and you deserve respect. Don’t ever let anyone, even your own daughter, make you feel less.”
That evening marked a turning point. It was painful, but necessary. Nicky needed to learn respect and gratitude. And I needed to remember my own worth. With Anne’s help, I began to reclaim my dignity, knowing that sometimes, even the deepest bonds need to be tested and strengthened through tough love.
