“Emily, please come home, I beg you…”
“Mum, you know I wont!”
“Emily, love, hes very ill…”
“Dont ask. I wont come.”
“I hate him!” Emily hurled the phone across the room in a fury. She marched to the fridge, yanked the door open, and pulled out a bottle of gin. Pouring a measure into a glass, she hesitated before tipping it down the sink. Sinking onto a stool, she burst into tears.
Ten years had passed since she last stepped foot in her childhood home.
In her final year at school, Emily had fallen in love. Her friends often sneaked off to dances and university parties nearby, and one evening, worn down by their teasing, she went along. 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 him desperatelyskipping lessons, neglecting chores, lying to her parents just to see him.
Their brief romance ended when she discovered she was pregnant. He began avoiding her, then vanished entirely. Soon after, his mother appeared, offering to arrange an appointment with a discreet doctor. “We never wanted a girl like you for our son,” she said coldly. “Youre not good enough.”
Emily couldnt bring herself to tell her mother for months. When the truth could no longer be hidden, she confessed.
“You shameful little tramp!” her father roared. “All you care about is gallivanting, not your future! How dare you disgrace us like this? Get out! I never want to see you again!”
Her mother wept silently. She had long surrendered to her husbands tyrannyhis temper ruled the house, and her voice had faded years ago.
Stunned by the cruelty, Emily shoved a few shirts and jeans into a backpack and left.
At first, she drifted between friends sofas, but no one wanted a pregnant girl for long. Borrowing money from a classmate, she took a train to another city, hoping to find an aunt shed only heard of in whispers. Her father had cut his wife off from friends and family, so Emily knew nothing of her relatives.
Arriving, she learned her aunt had moved away years beforemarried and gone, no one knew where. Hungry and lost, Emily wandered back toward the station, where elderly women sold homemade pasties to travellers. Desperate, she tried to steal one, but fumbled. The woman raised a hand to strikethen froze, seeing her swollen belly.
Between ravenous bites, Emily poured out her story. The woman, living alone, took her in.
Until the birth, Emily sold pasties by the station, dreaming of earning enough to return home, of her fathers forgiveness. But the unfamiliar city held her 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 cashier. She proved herself, rising to supervisor. When the shop was demolished and a supermarket rose in its place, she climbed higherdepartment manager, then head of several sections.
After her daughters birth, she called her mother, longing to return. But her mother pleaded with her to stay awayher father had erased her from his life.
When her saviour died, leaving Emily the house, she called again. She needed helpher work was relentless, her daughter often alone. Part of her hoped her mother might escape her prison, even briefly. But the answer was the same. So silence fell between them.
And now, this call.
For ten years, she had waited for the words: *Forgive me. Come home.* Or simply, *Come back, love.* But nowwhy now? What did he want? An apology? *”Sorry, Daddy, I was wrong”?*
Time had dulled the fury, but the ache remainedthe injustice, the refusal to listen, the years of swallowing pride just to survive. There were nights she nearly gave up.
Yet now, she was respected. Her bosses valued her opinion. Her home was stylish, modern. Her daughter attended the best grammar school. A good man had asked her to marry him.
*”Ive done well,”* Emily thought. *Would I be this strong if he hadnt thrown me out? Forgive him. Say goodbye. For my sakefor my future.*
She phoned work, explained, then began packing her case.
