“Forgive Me, My Daughter”
The crisp morning air bit at her skin as Emily stepped out of the flat, her breath forming little clouds in the cold. Before she could reach the pavement, an unfamiliar voice called out to her.
“Emily, love, wait Ive been waiting for you all morning. They gave me your address at the childrens home”
Emily froze, her fingers tightening around her keys. “Who are you?” she snapped, her eyes darting to her watch.
“Im Im your dad, Em,” the man stammered, offering a hesitant smile.
“Youve got the wrong person. I dont have a father,” she replied flatly, turning on her heel and striding toward her car, parked just a few feet away.
Outwardly, she was composed. But inside, her heart hammered like a drum, her cheeks burning as though flames licked beneath her skin. She slid into the drivers seat, yanked the seatbelt across her chest, and twisted the key in the ignition.
“Emily, pleasejust five minutes! I need to talk to you!”
The man rushed toward the car, hands outstretched. But Emily had already pulled away, leaving him standing there, bewildered, staring after her as she disappeared down the road.
She stopped at a petrol station, grabbed a coffee, and dialled her husband.
“James, theres some madman outside the flat. Keep an eye on Oliver when you go out, yeah?” Her voice trembled despite her efforts to sound calm.
“What madman?” James teased.
“How should I know? Just some bloke!”
“Maybe its an admirer,” he joked.
“Not funny, James. Ive got to go.”
“Have a good day. Dont worryIll watch Ollie like a hawk.”
“Fine.”
Emily hung up and drove to work, her heart anything but settled.
The truth was, she *didnt* have a father. Not in any way that mattered. Logically, of course, there had to be onebut shed never known him. Shed grown up in care, her memories of her mother faint, like fragments of a dream.
Later, the carers told her shed been sent to the home after her mothers deatha young woman struck down by illness. No relatives had stepped forward. So little Emily had been passed from a temporary shelter to a childrens home, where shed stayed.
Her childhood hadnt been happy. But shed been luckier than somethe home was decent, the staff kind. Most of the other kids were there because their parents had abandoned them or because social services had intervened. Few had lost their mothers like she had.
In a way, it was a small comfortknowing her mother hadnt *chosen* to leave her. But she envied the others. At least they could hope. Hope that one day, their mothers might come back. Emily had no one to wait for.
By adulthood, shed decided: her father had walked away the moment hed heard about the pregnancy. Shed never been wanted.
“Em, youre miles away today,” her colleague Sophie remarked at lunch.
“Just tired,” Emily lied, forcing a smile.
But all day, her mind circled back to the man outside her flat. Could he really be her father? Why show up *now*? The questions swarmed like wasps, refusing to quiet. By evening, shed steeled herself. She had a familyJames, their four-year-old Oliver. That was all that mattered.
But when she got home, she realised how wrong shed been.
“Im back,” she called, toeing off her shoes.
“Finally! Weve been waiting,” James answered from the kitchen.
“How was your first day off? Not regretting pulling Ollie out of nursery yet?”
“Nah, we had a blast. Watching cartoons now. Em that man earlier? He *is* your dad.”
“James, dont!”
“He told me everything”
“I dont *care* what he said! Why did you even talk to him? Even if he *is* my father, I dont *need* him! Where was he when I was in care? Drop it!”
That night, sleep wouldnt come. Not even pills helped. The next morning, she made breakfast, kissed James goodbye, and left for workonly to find the man waiting again.
“Emily, *please*! I didnt even know you existed!”
“If you dont leave me alone, Ill call the police!”
She drove off, leaving him standing there, staring helplessly after her.
All day, thoughts of her parents gnawed at her. She couldnt focus. And when she returned that evening, she heard voicesJames and *him*chatting in the kitchen.
“James, have you lost your *mind*?” she hissed, fighting to keep her voice low for Olivers sake.
“Em, just hear him out. HenryMr. Whitmoredidnt even know about you. You always say everyone deserves forgiveness.”
Tears pricked her eyes.
“Emily, love, dont cry,” Henry said gently. “My motheryour grandmotheronly told me about you on her deathbed. I *loved* your mum. But life it wasnt simple. Let me explain.”
Defeated, Emily sat. And Henry began.
“I met your mum, Alice, by chance. She worked at a shop near my parents house. We fell in love. Then I was called up for National Service. We planned to marry when I got back. But when Alice came to my motherpregnantMum turned her away. Told her we didnt want a girl with no family. Later, she wrote to me, saying Alice had married someone else. I believed her. After my service, I never went back. Only when Mum was dying did she confess. Said Alice had a daughter”
Emily listened, tears streaming.
“Ive no excuses. But please forgive me. I didnt know you were in care. I found Alices grave. After my parents died, I thought I was alone. But now I have a daughter. A grandson. Ive moved back. My parents houseits yours. By rights, it always was.”
That night, after Henry left, James asked, “What now?”
“I dont know.”
“Henrys leaving tomorrowtying up loose ends. Maybe we should see him off?”
“Well see.”
The next morning, they stood on the platform. Emily spotted Henry first. Their eyes metand for the first time, she smiled at him.
Minutes later, Henry held Oliver in his arms.
“Ill be back for good in a month. Well sort the house paperwork then.”
“Theres time,” Emily whispered.
“Forgive me, my daughter.”
She broke. Henry pulled her into an embrace. And for the first time, she felt itthe warmth of a fathers love.
“Ill be back soon,” Henry said softly.
“Come home,” she answered.
A month later, he did. Emily forgave him. And the house became a homefor all of them.
“James thank you.”
“For what?”
“If it werent for you, Id never have spoken to him.”
“Youre the one who always says everyone deserves forgiveness.”
“Everyone does,” she agreed, smiling.
