A Decade Without Words
The dark evening wrapped around the old neighbourhood on the outskirts of Manchester, and the flickering streetlights trembled in the puddles, reflecting the cold glint of the autumn sky. Simon sat in his worn-out armchair, gripping a chipped mug with the faded words *”This Too Shall Pass”*—a gift from his first wife years ago. That mug was the only thing tying him to a past he’d walled off. His divorce with Helen had left a hollowness inside, but life moved on: soon came Emma, his new wife and mother to their two kids.
Simon liked to think he was a good dad. After the split, he took care of his daughter Lily, though it felt like fighting shadows. New family, work, debts—it all weighed heavy, but he tried to make sure she never felt like an outsider. Yet as years passed, he watched the gap between them grow. Lily grew quieter, her eyes dull, conversations ending in clipped half-sentences. He tried to figure out what was eating at her, but every time, he hit silence—cold as a winter draught.
When Lily turned eighteen, she left. No note, no explanation—just packed a bag and vanished into the night. Simon couldn’t believe the girl he’d lost sleep over had erased him from her life. He called, texted, but her phone stayed dead. Eventually, the calls tapered off, then stopped altogether. Guilt gnawed at him, but he couldn’t pin down where he’d gone wrong. Had he not been warm enough? Too wrapped up in his own struggles to see hers?
Ten years slipped by like a dream. Simon’s life settled: kids grew, Emma became his rock, and the past stayed locked away. Then his phone buzzed—his younger daughter, Sophie, said she’d found Lily. She was living in Leeds now, working as a financial analyst. Simon’s heart stalled, hope and fear twisting in his chest. He wanted to reach out, but what if she shut him out again? What if that rejection was the final one?
A decade after disappearing, Lily got Sophie’s message. She was seventeen, her words raw and honest, cutting deep. Sophie wrote about school, dreams, how badly she wanted to know her sister. Each message was like picking at a scab, reopening wounds Lily had spent years stitching shut. She didn’t reply—couldn’t. Too much pain had piled up in that silence.
Lily was twenty-eight now, but inside, she was still the nine-year-old who’d had to grow up too fast. Her parents’ divorce shattered her world. Her dad moved on quickly with Emma, while her mum, abandoning her, moved abroad with a new husband. Lily was left in a house where she became the unpaid help—cleaning, cooking, looking after her stepmum’s younger kids. They told her it was her duty, that she should be grateful for a roof over her head. But it wasn’t a family. It was a prison.
At eighteen, she ran, swearing never to look back. Now, Lily lived alone, built her life brick by brick as an analyst. But the past wouldn’t stay buried. And here it was—her dad’s letter. Simon poured out his guilt, his regret, how badly he’d failed her, how he hoped for forgiveness. Every word burned like a hot coal.
Lily didn’t answer. Not him, not Sophie. She’d bolted her heart shut, terrified that opening it would drown her in old pain. Then last night, another message came. Sophie wrote that she understood the silence and wouldn’t push anymore. Those simple, honest words cracked Lily’s armour. Sophie wasn’t to blame. She just wanted a family—the one Lily never had. Was she denying her sister that chance?
Lily picked up her phone. Her hands shook as she typed back, words catching like thorns. She told Sophie about her childhood—how love came with conditions, why trust felt impossible. But at the end, she added: *”I want to try. Not yet, but I want to try.”*
Hitting *send* felt like lifting a weight. For the first time in years, Lily tasted relief—fragile, but real. Maybe this was the first step toward more than just surviving. Maybe there was room in her world for warmth, after all.
