So, this story’s about half-sisters, right? Let me tell you how it goes…
After work, Emily popped into the shopping centre. The head accountant’s big anniversary was coming up, and their team had asked her to pick out a gift. She spotted a few things, snapped some pics on her phone, and planned to show her colleagues tomorrow—whatever they chose, she’d buy. Heading down the escalator to the ground floor, she just wanted to escape the crowd and chaos.
Then—*“Emily?!”*—a woman’s voice called out.
She turned left, scanning the faces moving up the other side, but no one looked familiar.
*“Emily!”*—again.
This time, Emily glanced back and spotted a girl with fiery red hair, trying to push her way *down* the *up* escalator. *“Wait for me downstairs, don’t leave!”* the girl shouted.
Emily stepped off and waited. That neon-red hair disappeared at the top for a second, then came rushing back as the girl practically sprinted down the moving stairs, bumping into people along the way. The hair was so bright, it was hard to even notice her face.
*“Sophie!”* Emily gasped, recognising her half-sister.
*“Surprise!* Been wandering around town hoping I’d bump into you. Knew it’d happen eventually.” Sophie grinned. “There’s a café down here—let’s grab a seat.”
*“How long have you been in town?”*
*“Two weeks.* God, I’m so glad I found you,” Sophie said, all earnest.
They picked a café, and Emily studied her. Bright red hair, mascara clumped into pine-needle lashes, red lipstick to match. Her delicate features made her look doll-like, almost cartoonish.
Sophie was only four years younger—around twenty—but dressed like a teenager: a pleated miniskirt, sheer tights with knee-high socks, chunky white trainers, a cropped denim jacket hanging open over a tiny pink vest. No one would’ve guessed she was twenty.
Emily caught people staring.
*“You look amazing,”* Sophie said, just as the waitress dropped off menus. Sophie instantly drilled into hers, ordering a pizza, cake, and coffee. Emily just went for a coffee.
*“I’m *starving*,” Sophie groaned. *“Lucky you—you can eat anything and stay skinny. I’m stuck on brutal diets.*”
*“Seriously?”* Emily raised a brow. Sophie had *always* been thin.
*“You haven’t seen my mum. Must’ve been twelve stone, easy. No wonder Dad left her. You got the good genes.”* She scanned the menu again. *“D’you think they do beer?”*
*“Ask, but I’ll pass—I’m driving.”*
*“You’ve got a *car*? Blimey. Hey, any jobs going at your work? I’ve been here two weeks and still nothing.”*
*“How’ve you been managing, then?”*
*“Robbed Dad blind,”* Sophie snorted. *“He’d just drink it anyway. After you left, he went off the rails—got sacked, picked up odd jobs. Then he shacked up with some dinner lady who nicked food from the canteen. Went full-on alcoholic.”*
Emily listened, stunned—though, honestly, she wasn’t *that* surprised. She’d never liked Sophie’s dad. When Mum brought him home, she’d said Emily was just jealous. He came with Sophie in tow. Emily was in Year 13, prepping for uni.
They’d clashed from the start. Sophie took Emily’s clothes without asking, ruined them. Mum always defended her: *“You’ve got loads—don’t be stingy. Sophie never had a mum.”* Emily knew Mum just wanted peace, but it still hurt. Then, that winter, Mum got the worst news at the hospital. Four months later, she was gone.
Her so-called stepdad assumed Emily would start working straight after school, but she bolted for Manchester. She’d been skimming money off groceries and cinema trips since before Mum died. Got into uni, lived in halls, worked nights at Burger King. After graduating, she landed a decent office job, saved like mad, and within a year, bought a flat with a mortgage.
She’d met Daniel around the same time she started the job. Six months ago, he helped her buy a second-hand Ford.
*“What qualifications do you even have?”* Emily asked, snapping back to the present.
Sophie scoffed. *“Come off it. Barely finished school, worked at a newsagent’s. Dad lost the plot with the booze—got the sack. Why d’you think I’m here? Found himself another drunk, and now they’re at it non-stop. Couldn’t stay. No future there.”*
Emily almost laughed. A newsagent’s assistant *definitely* didn’t have prospects.
*“What job d’you even want?”*
*“I’d make a banging secretary. Your boss young?”*
*“Not really. And married. With a secretary already.”*
*“Shame.* Not doing cleaning, though,” Sophie mumbled as the pizza arrived, her eyes glued to it.
*“If you need cash, does it matter if you’re pushing papers or a mop?* But I’ll ask around.” (A lie. No way was Sophie working at *her* office. Let a fox into the henhouse, and—well.)
*“What about *you*? Not married?”* Sophie nodded at Emily’s bare ring finger.
*“No, but I’ve got a bloke. Two years together, talking marriage.”* (Another lie. They *had* been together two years, but they didn’t live together. Daniel stayed over sometimes, but his mum was ill—he couldn’t leave her long. Didn’t want to dump that on Emily, hence no proposal.)
Sophie wrinkled her nose. *“Thought you were smarter. If he hasn’t proposed in the first year, he won’t. It’s now or never.”*
*“Since when are you the expert?”* Emily smirked, her thumb brushing the ring on her finger. Sophie caught the movement.
*“His?* Bit small.”
Emily bristled. Sophie loved everything flashy. But Emily *loved* this ring—delicate, with a tiny diamond. Matching stud earrings, too. Daniel bought them in Amsterdam on a work trip. The stones caught the light, sparkling at the office. Colleagues complimented her all the time. Wasn’t *that* proof he loved her? But she didn’t say it.
*“It’s a diamond.”*
*“So he’s loaded?”* Sophie’s chewing stopped mid-bite.
*“Not at all. He just loves me.”*
Sophie gave her a weird look, then dropped her gaze.
*“What about you? Got a bloke?”* Emily countered.
*“Looking.* Lived with one…” She sighed. *“Not settling for just anyone. Want someone rich—flat, car, the lot.”*
(*Ah. So that’s why she’s here.* Husband-hunting. In *that* getup? Good luck.) Emily drained her coffee. Conversation dead. She wanted to be home but knew Sophie wouldn’t let her go that easy.
*“Gotta go,”* she said, flagging the waitress. Sophie didn’t protest Emily paying—even though she’d only had coffee.
*“You’ll ask about the job?”* Sophie pressed.
*“Yeah.”* Emily stood.
They walked out together.
—
Emily and Mum had lived alone after Dad left years ago. Then Mum met Sophie’s dad, and they moved in. Emily never liked either of them. Something *off* about him.
When Mum got sick and died, Emily blamed Sophie and her dad. If not for them, Mum might’ve lived. But the doctors said it was cancer—late stage.
Sophie’s dad started drinking while Emily was still there. *Somehow*, Sophie never found the money Emily hid. Otherwise, she’d have had no way to leave. Memories flickered like fast-forwarded film scenes as they walked to the car.
Time to say goodbye.
*“Em, you renting?”*
*“No, bought it. Mortgage.”*
*“Wow. Can I crash with you a bit? Just till I find work.”*
*“Where’ve you been staying?”* (Knew this was coming.)
*“Mate’s place.* An old school friend.” Sophie looked away. *“Wanted out for ages. Sick of him.”*
Emily hesitated. Letting Sophie in meant no more nights with Daniel. Sophie watched her, pulling a sad-puppy face—like a kid again. Emily caved. *Family*, after all.
*“Get in.”*
Sophie beamed, circled the car, and slid into the passenger seat.
*“It’s a one-bed. Fold-out sofa in the kitchen. That okay?”*
*“Course.”*
After locking the door that night, Emily finally exhaled, realizing some wounds never fully close, no matter how hard you try to move on.
