Emily still remembers her happy childhood, though at twenty-five she’s already seen her fair share of life’s joys and sorrows, its disappointments and betrayals.
When young Lieutenant Daniel, freshly graduated from Sandhurst, proposed to his girlfriend Laura, she could hardly believe it. They’d been together for over two years while he trained, meeting only occasionally—cadets weren’t often granted leave.
“Laura, let’s hurry and register at the council. We’ll marry, then I’ll report to my new posting and settle in. You can join me later,” Daniel said, pleased with his commission, his new rank, and the thought of soon being a married man.
“I’d love to,” Laura replied eagerly. She’d long dreamed of leaving home, escaping her drunken, quarrelsome father. As for her mother, she felt little attachment.
Laura’s mother defended her father when he was sober, waited on him hand and foot, but the cycle always repeated. Nobody paid their daughter much mind—so long as she was fed and clothed. Her mother fought bitterly to extract his wages before he drank them away.
Laura had seen little kindness in life.
“When I have a daughter,” she vowed, “I’ll love her properly. No shouting matches—I’d never marry a man like my father. I’ll find someone decent.”
Laura joined Daniel in a remote Yorkshire village where he was stationed. The place was small, but they had a one-bedroom flat. He’d arranged basic furnishings—some military-issue, some bought himself.
“Danny, I’m so happy,” Laura beamed. “It’s just us now, and I’m the lady of the house!” Daniel held her close, content.
A year and a half later, their daughter Emily was born. By then, Laura was mostly on her own—Daniel was often away on exercises or duty. Rarely did they share an evening bathing their baby. He came and went while she slept, though he missed her dearly.
Time passed. Emily grew, and Daniel was transferred—first to a small market town, then elsewhere, so Emily attended different schools as they moved around. Then one evening, he returned with news.
“Right, we’re off to London—likely for good this time.”
“About time,” Laura said. “I’m sick of trailing after the army. Other families stay put.”
“Laura, you married a soldier. You knew the life. What’s there to complain about? You’ve a home, a car, money.”
But Laura, it seemed, had inherited her mother’s temper. Over time, she grew indifferent to Emily, who only grew closer to her father. They understood each other perfectly. Laura didn’t care.
They were given a three-bedroom flat in central London—a far cry from their smaller quarters. The view from the tenth-floor balcony took Emily’s breath away.
She attended a good school. Daniel served; Laura worked. Emily often heard her mother pick fights over nothing. Daniel stayed quiet, retreating to the balcony with a paper until Laura ran out of steam. She’d never follow him out—what would the neighbours think?
Two years later, they divorced. Emily stayed with her mother; Daniel moved across the city but left them the flat.
“Em, visit anytime—here’s my address,” he said, handing her a slip of paper. She tucked it away carefully, out of Laura’s sight.
Emily visited on weekends and holidays. They strolled in Hyde Park, watched films, ate ice cream. Laura, nursing bitterness towards Daniel, took it out on Emily. By secondary school, Emily fought back. They coexisted—barely—like strangers.
When university applications loomed, Emily chose a distant city without hesitation. She craved escape. Student halls became her sanctuary.
“I’ll visit Mum on break,” she thought. “See Dad too.”
But returning home crushed her. Laura wasn’t alone—she lived with Ian, just seven years Emily’s senior. Emily had never seen a drunk in their home before; Daniel drank only occasionally. Ian was perpetually tipsy. She wasn’t sure if he worked—he left sometimes but always returned soused.
“Mum, how can you stand Ian drinking like this?” she finally snapped. “And the rows?”
“None of your business. Don’t like it? Go to your father. Nobody’s keeping you.”
Emily left that night after Ian barged into her room. Luckily, Laura returned in time. By dawn, Emily was at her dad’s.
“As long as Ian’s there, I’m done,” she vowed.
In her final year, after exams, Emily visited Daniel, now living with Anna, who welcomed her warmly. Then, crossing the road by his flat, a car hit her. A broken leg landed her in hospital.
Daniel visited when he could; Anna came alone when he was away. Reluctantly, Emily called Laura.
“Mum, I’m in hospital.” Laura promised to come.
She did—with a stranger in tow.
“Love, this is a solicitor. Sign these papers. Your father didn’t bother, but I won’t leave my child homeless. You’ll have a roof over your head when I’m gone—my word on it.”
Emily signed.
After graduating, she stayed in the city, working hard, saving for a flat—though it seemed impossible. But she refused to despair.
One day, she called Laura.
“Mum, how are you? How’s life?”
“Oh, getting by. Split with Ian—had enough of his drinking.”
“Thank God,” Emily said.
“Things have changed. I sold the flat, bought a two-bedder. You’ll visit, and it’ll be yours one day.”
Emily didn’t know the details until she rang Tanya, an old neighbour who’d fallen out with Laura—thanks to Ian, no doubt.
“Em, didn’t you know? Your mum pulled a fast one—you signed it all away. Ian smashed our lobby windows. They’ve moved. You’d best check the records—something’s off.”
The truth shattered Emily. Ian owned her flat now. Laura had sold his old place, “gifted” him hers, and blown the cash with him—both jobless, both drinking. The home promised to Emily was gone.
She’d signed blindly in hospital—who wouldn’t trust their own mother? But Laura had exploited her. No inheritance awaited—just Ian.
Emily confronted Laura, who was half-cut.
“Mum, why cheat me?”
“Oh, darling, you’ll earn your own. Why fuss?” Laura slurred. “Stay, let’s celebrate!”
Emily recoiled. This was how Laura would end—raised without love, incapable of it. Even kind, patient Daniel had left. He still poured his goodness into Emily, shielding her.
“Don’t fret, love,” he told her. “We’ll get you a place in time—Anna and I are saving. If need be, we’ll take a loan. Just choose your husband wisely. Found anyone yet?”
“Yes, Dad,” she smiled. “Oliver—we work together. He’s like you. I know what to look for.”
Emily cut ties with Laura, who never reached out. “You don’t understand life,” she’d sneered. “Mine’s exciting. What’s yours?”
Their definitions of “exciting” would never align. Emily couldn’t fathom a life spiralling into ruin—nor forgive the woman who’d sacrificed her daughter’s future for a drunkard’s whims.
The lesson was clear: trust is precious, but blind faith—even in family—can cost everything. True love doesn’t exploit; it protects. Some bonds aren’t worth keeping.
