In a haze of half-remembered streets, Emily stood frozen by the window, little Sophie asleep in her arms. The weight of the hours pressed down as she stared into the empty courtyard, willing the familiar car to return.
Earlier, Jonathan had come home from workhis footsteps heavy, his voice flat. Shed been in the kitchen, humming to herself, when she noticed the silence. Stepping into the bedroom, she found him stuffing clothes into a suitcase.
“Where are you going?” she asked, voice thin.
“Leaving. Im leaving you for someone who actually sees me.”
“Jonathan, this isnt funny. Did something happen at work? Is it a business trip?”
“Christ, Emily, listen. Im done. Its always Sophie with youlike I dont even exist. Youve let yourself go.”
“Dont shout. Youll wake her.”
“There. Again. Its always about her.”
“A real man wouldnt abandon his wife and child,” she whispered, turning away before he could see her cry. She scooped Sophie from the cot and retreated to the kitchensomewhere hed never follow. Nothing of his remained there.
From the window, she watched his car vanish without a backward glance. The night stretched on, sleepless. Who could she call? Her mother had lost interest the moment shed married, as if Emily had ceased to exist the day her brother was born. Friends? Other mums, just as exhausted. What could they do?
Dawn came sticky-eyed. A call to Jonathan went unanswered; his reply was a single text: *Dont contact me again.* Sophie fussed, and Emily forced herself upright. No time to crumble. She had a daughter to care for.
The numbers in her purse and on her bank app made her stomach drop. Even if the landlady waited for her benefits to come through, it wouldnt be enough. Food, rent, nappiesJonathan had taken his laptop, cutting off any hope of remote work. Two weeks paid rent remained. She had to think fast.
But calls to contacts led nowhere. No one would hire a single mum. Even cleaning jobs required childcareand who could she trust? A cheaper flat? They were already in the dingiest part of Leeds. Her parents cramped semi was outher brother, his wife, and their twins filled every inch.
The landlady was notified: shed leave when the lease ended. Hostels were a last resort, but the ones shed seen reeked of despair. Messages to Jonathan went unreadblocked, probably.
Five days left. Packing kept her hands busy. Thena knock.
Valerie stood in the doorway, lips pursed. Emilys stomach twisted. Her mother-in-law had never liked hernot since the first meeting, when Valerie made it clear Emily wasnt good enough. Visits were laced with backhanded jabs: *Do you ever dust, dear?* Meals went uneaten*Pigs wouldnt touch this.* Even Sophies birth brought venom: *She doesnt look like our side. He ought to get a test.* Only at six months did Valerie soften, spotting a hint of Jonathan in the babys face.
Now, here she was, post-abandonment. Emily braced for gloating.
“Pack your things,” Valerie snapped. “Youre coming with me.”
Emily blinked. “What?”
“Three-bed house. Plenty of space. Or were you planning to squeeze into your mothers hovel?”
No choice. They left that evening.
The first night in Valeries home was stiff with silence. Then, over tea:
“Emily, I know weve never got on. But youll have to forgive me.”
“You just wanted the best for him.”
Valerie scoffed. “Best? I was selfish. Today, he calledtold me everything. Forgive me for raising a man like that. His father left when he was three months old. He *knew* how hard it was. And he still did it.” She gripped her cup. “Stay as long as you need.”
Tears dripped onto the table.
“None of that,” Valerie muttered.
“Its gratitude.”
“Save it. Call it penance. Well manage. Roof over our heads. When you find work, Ill mind Sophie.”
They became inseparable. Valeries sharp edges softenedadvice given gently, not barked.
On Sophies first birthday, the house glittered with balloons. The cakeapple and cinnamonsat proudly on the table. Sophie wobbled toward the decorations, plopping down after three steps.
“Our first steps!” Valerie beamed.
Thenthe doorbell.
Jonathan stood there, some woman clinging to his arm.
“Mum, were moving in. Rents too steep.”
Valeries smile iced over. “No room.”
“Whos *she*?” Jonathan sneered, spotting Emily.
“Your wife. Or have you forgotten? Todays your daughters birthday. Not that youd remember.”
“Daughter? How do I know shes mine?”
Valerie pointed to the door. “Out.”
Later, Emily hesitated. “Mum hes your son. Maybe I should”
“He is. But you dont treat a child like that. Wives come and go. Children dont.”
Four years passed. Valerie cornered Emily one evening. “How long till I meet this mystery man of yours?”
Blushing, Emily introduced David.
At the wedding, Valerie squeezed her hand. “Im not done with Sophie yet, you know.”
By the time their son was born, Valerie claimed him too. “My grandson,” she declared. No one argued. Emily hadnt called her “Mum” out of obligation in years.
Jonathan married his Angela. They moved away. Valerie heard snippetshe was fine. Shed never stop watching from afar. He was still her son.
But now, she had a daughter. And two grandchildren. For now. There was love enough for more.
