“Emily, please come home, I beg you…”
“Mother, you know I won’t!”
“Emily, darling, hes very ill…”
“Dont ask. I wont come.”
“I hate him!” Emily flung the phone across the room in anger. She marched to the fridge, yanked open the door, and pulled out a bottle of gin. She poured a glass, hesitated, then tipped the liquor down the sink. Sinking onto a stool, she burst into tears.
Ten years had passed since shed last set foot in her childhood home.
In her final year of school, Emily had fallen in love. Her classmates often sneaked off to dances and university parties nearby, and one evening, swayed by their persuasion, she went too. There, she met *Him*. He played in a band, sang beautifully, and was the son of a diplomat. Girls trailed after him like ducklings, each dreaming of his attention. Emily never understood why he chose *her*. But she loved himrecklessly, blindly. She rushed to meet him, neglecting school, chores, even lying to her parents just to see him more.
Their brief romance ended with her pregnancy. He began avoiding her, then vanished altogether. Instead, his mother appeared, suggesting a “good doctor” to “take care of it.” She made it clear Emily was no match for her precious sonjust some wayward girl.
Emily delayed telling her mother. Only when hiding her swelling belly became impossible did she confess.
“You disgraceful little harlot!” her father bellowed. “All you care about is gallivanting, not your future! What shame youve brought us! Get outI never want to see you again!”
Her mother wept silently. She had long surrendered to her husbands tyrannya domineering, coarse man who crushed her spirit years ago. His word was law; hers meant nothing.
After the storm of insults, Emily stuffed a few shirts and jeans into a rucksack and left.
At first, she drifted between friends, but none welcomed her for long. Borrowing money from a classmate, she took a train to another town, seeking an aunt shed only heard of in whispers. Her father had severed ties with all extended family, leaving her adrift.
But when she arrived, she learned her aunt had married and moved awayno one knew where. Hungry and lost, Emily wandered back toward the station. Elderly women sold pasties to travelers there. Desperate, she tried to snatch one, but fumbled. The vendor raised a hand to strikethen froze, seeing her belly.
Between wolfish bites, Emily spilled her story. The woman, living alone, took her in.
Until the birth, Emily sold pasties at the station, dreaming of earning enough to return home, to her fathers forgiveness.
But she stayed in that unfamiliar town for ten long years.
She had a daughter. The woman who sheltered her became the childs grandmother, minding her while Emily workedfirst scrubbing floors in a shop, then filling in as a clerk. Her diligence earned promotions: senior clerk, supervisor. When the shop was replaced by a supermarket, she climbed higherdepartment manager, then head of multiple sections.
After the birth, shed called her mother, hoping to return. But her mother warned against ither father had erased her from his life.
When her savior passed away, leaving Emily the house, she called again. She needed helpher work consumed her, her daughter was often alone. Surely her mother might escape her tyrant for a while? But again, refusal. So silence stretched between them.
Until now.
A decade shed waited for “Forgive me” or “Come home, love.” But *now*? What did he want? An apology? “Sorry, Daddy, I was wrong”?
Time had dulled the rage, but the ache remainedthe rejection, the loneliness, the grinding struggle. There were nights she wanted to give up.
Yet now she thrived. Respected at work, her home stylish, her daughter in a fine school. A good man had proposed.
“Would I even be this strong if he hadnt cast me out?” she wondered.
Perhaps it was timenot for him, but for herself. To forgive. To close that chapter.
Emily called her office, explained the situation, and began packing.
