“Mum, why are you making such a fuss? Daniel said he loves me. We’re getting married, Mum,” Emily said, calmer than she’d ever been.
“How can I not fuss? You’re pregnant, not married, haven’t even finished college, and I’ve never even met this Daniel! Do you think a child is just some sort of toy? He’d better come here today, look me in the eye, and promise he’ll take responsibility—understood?”
“Stop shouting! I thought you’d be happy about a grandchild. I’ll bring Daniel over later—he’s just finishing work. I’ve got a key to his flat. I’ll wait there; you’re too worked up,” Emily huffed, storming out with a careless flick of her handbag.
Catherine clutched her chest, sank onto a stool, and stared at her late husband’s portrait.
“There it is—fatherless trouble,” she muttered to the photo. “Oh, James, why’d you leave us so soon? I’ve failed our girl. She’s in too much of a hurry. What if this lad walks away? How will we manage? My wages are barely enough, and who’ll hire a pregnant girl now? She’s still got six months of studies left. Bloody hell!”
Catherine buried her face in her apron and wept. The weight of life had crushed her since she was young—widowed when her daughter was just two, left to scrape by in a small town. Only her closest friend and neighbours knew how hard she’d fought. The best bits of every meal went to her little girl, while she kept the house running. Just when things seemed steady, her own daughter had dropped this bombshell.
“Right, better get the pastry going for pies—gotta feed the future son-in-law. Oh, Emily, Emily…”
Once the table was set, Catherine changed into her best dress and picked up her knitting to steady her nerves.
Then—the front door creaked open. Emily walked in. Catherine peered behind her. No one.
“Where’s your young man? Left him on the doorstep?”
“Gone,” Emily sniffled. “He’s left me.”
“How?!” Catherine dropped onto a chair.
“Just like that! Quit his job, packed his things, and vanished. The landlord told me…”
Emily looked lost, tears welling. Being a single mum wasn’t part of her plan.
“What do I do now, Mum?”
Catherine bit back the urge to say *I told you so*. A mother’s heart isn’t stone.
“Have the baby—what else? It’s not going away. When’s it due?”
“July. Right after I get my degree,” Emily sighed, rubbing her stomach.
…Emily gave birth right on time—a little girl she named Lily. And so, the three of them carried on, like three peas in a pod.
Lily grew up bright and cheery, her clever little eyes taking in the world. Catherine adored her, but Emily? She kept her at arm’s length. Worse—Lily looked just like Daniel: same ginger curls, same big green eyes.
“Mum’s home!” Six-year-old Lily would sprint to the door the second she spotted Emily through the window, arms outstretched.
“What’d you bring me?” She’d cling to her mum’s arm, hopeful.
“Nothing,” Emily would grumble.
“But why? You promised ice cream yesterday!”
“Give it a rest! I’m knackered!” Emily would shove Lily off and lock herself in her room.
Lily would stand there crying, crushed. She’d waited all day for a cuddle. Then there was that nursery assignment—*draw your family*. Lily drew three: herself, Mum, and Nan. The kids laughed. *No-dad Lily*, they jeered.
Catherine would rush to comfort her, but the floodgates had opened.
“Where’s my daddy? Why’s Mummy so mean?!” Lily would wail.
Catherine just held her tight.
“Not everyone has a dad, love. We’ll manage. More pies for us, eh? Come on—let’s fetch ice cream.”
The magic word would dry Lily’s tears.
“And Mummy too?”
“And Mummy.”
…Mother’s Day was always a big deal in Catherine’s house. Three generations of women, a table groaning with food, Emily’s mates dropping by with gifts. But this year? Emily brought a man. No warning.
On their doorstep stood a posh bloke in a sharp suit—way older than Emily.
“Mum, meet Andrew. My boss. He’s being transferred—promotion. A big house down south. We’re getting married.”
“What?!” Catherine froze.
“Is *he* my dad?” Lily piped up, eavesdropping from the hall. She forgot to even say hello.
“No, poppet, I’m not,” Andrew smirked. “Look what I bought you.” He held out a doll.
Lily turned away. Something about him prickled her skin.
The evening dragged. Andrew made zero effort. Emily fawned over him, snapping at Lily.
“Sit properly! What’ll Uncle Andrew think? Stop wriggling!”
Catherine stayed quiet, uneasy. Andrew? He revelled in lording it over what he clearly saw as charity cases. Lily barely ate, watching her mum with wide eyes.
“My division’s top performer. Director soon—just a three-hour move away. Emily’s coming. You’ll visit our *estate*.”
“Will I move too? Do they have a nice nursery?” Lily asked.
Andrew shot Emily a look. She changed the subject fast.
“Mum, how’s work? Maybe retire—you’ve earned it.”
“Retire? On what?”
“Andrew will support you. You’ll want for nothing.”
“Why?” Catherine’s guard went up.
“Off you pop, play with your dolly,” Andrew dismissed Lily.
Lily looked at Nan, who nodded. She left—but dumped the doll by the door.
“Mum, here’s the thing,” Emily began. “We can’t take Lily right away. Once we’re settled—”
“Why *not*? You’ve got room!”
“Children are… inconvenient,” Andrew cut in. “We’ll pay you to keep her.”
“Her *name* is Lily,” Catherine hissed. “You’re bribing me to abandon your child?”
“It’s temporary!” Emily simpered. “Can’t burden a new husband with a kid.”
“Temporary becomes permanent. Go. We’ll manage.”
Andrew strutted out. Emily lingered, pleading.
“Mum, don’t you want me happy? A good man, finally! Lily’ll be fine—I’ll fetch her in six months.”
“Do what you want,” Catherine said wearily. “But I won’t let you break that girl’s heart. I’ll tell her you’re away for work. She already grieves a father—now a mother ditching her for a man?”
“I’m not *ditching*!”
“Aren’t you?”
Emily left without another word.
…A week later, she packed. Lily hovered.
“Mum, take your scarf—it’s chilly! And gloves!”
Andrew laughed.
“South’s warm, silly. No need for that.”
Nan watched Lily cling, offering her favourite teddy.
“Take Mr. Bubbles. He’s special—I’m giving him to you.”
Emily stuffed it in her case. Lily tucked him in with a jumper.
“Don’t be sad. Mummy just hates leaving me.”
Catherine hurried out, muffling sobs in a tea towel.
“Taxi’s here! No need to see me off!” Emily chirped.
“Mum, *don’t go*!” Lily lunged.
“Get *off*! I’ll miss my flight! Mum, *take her*!”
Catherine scooped up the weeping child as Emily vanished.
…Six months passed. Then five years. No word. Just money transfers, rare calls—never a visit. Catherine worked; the “support” piled up untouched in Lily’s savings.
At graduation, only Nan stood with Lily. The ache of absence cut deep.
“Proud of you, love. Shame your mum missed it.”
“*You’re* my family,” Lily whispered, kissing Nan’s grey hair. “I’d never leave you. I’ve known for ages—she chose him. I’ve let it go. You should too.”
…Lily aced uni, Nan cheering every step. Then—Andrew and Emily appeared, all designer suits and hollow smiles.
Turns out Andrew was sterile. Now they wanted *their* daughter back.
“Darling, we’re here to take you home!” Emily trilled. “Remember Mr. Bubbles?”
Lily smiled at the teddy.
“Missed you, old friend. But my home’s here. I’m getting married—Nan’s moving in with us. Your money’s untouched. We’re dining with my fiancé’s family tonight, so you’dEmily watched the taxi pull away, clutching Mr. Bubbles tight, the weight of what she’d lost finally sinking in as the door closed behind her forever.
