Emily was fifteen when her parents told her they were expecting another baby. She stomped her feet and shouted, her face burning with frustration.
“Mum, why do we need another child? Are you and Dad trying for one in your old age? Am I not enough for you?” She seethed, already imagining how this new sibling would steal her parents’ attention—and their money.
Until now, Mum and Dad had indulged her every whim, but suddenly, they were talking about cots, prams, and baby baths. Prams? Cots? What about the new boots Emily desperately wanted? She needed beautiful clothes. Emily wasn’t the prettiest girl—broad-faced, stocky, with sharp features—but she believed expensive outfits would make up for it. She dressed to hide her flaws and squeezed every penny from her parents. And now, a little sister would ruin everything.
Little Sophie was born, and Emily barely spared her a glance. Sophie was a doll—big blue eyes, golden curls—already toddling after her older sister, arms outstretched. Emily swatted her away.
“Mum, take your Sophie away. She’s in my way.”
Years passed. Sophie blossomed into a true beauty, while Emily remained plain, unmarried. After school, she worked as a postwoman in their village, delivering letters.
Then, at nineteen, Sophie fell madly in love with James, a trainee who’d come to the village. He vanished as soon as she told him she was pregnant.
“Keep the baby,” their mother sighed. “We’ll help you raise him.”
Sophie gave birth to little Oliver. But Emily had plenty to say.
“You always were soft in the head, Sophie. Love? There’s no such thing. Look at me—I never believed in it, so I never got trapped like you. You’re living in a fairy tale. Now you’re stuck with that—” She sneered at Oliver. “Mum and Dad coddle you both. Someone should’ve knocked sense into you.”
Emily had no pity. She tormented Sophie daily, whispering cruel things when their parents weren’t around.
“Why keep Oliver? You should’ve left him at the hospital. Or gotten rid of him sooner.” Sophie wept, but Emily only smirked.
Sophie dreamed of leaving, but where would she go? No money, no husband. Then, suddenly, Emily announced she was moving to the city.
“I’m sick of all of you. I’m leaving.”
At thirty, she was still single. Maybe the city held better prospects. She scoured job listings and found work on a construction site—hard labour, but it came with a chance at a council flat. She hauled buckets of mortar, learned plastering, grew greedy for cash. She forgot her family, lost in her new life. When asked about them, she scoffed.
“They wronged me. Let them regret it. I won’t lift a finger for them now.”
“Emily, you’ve got a heart like a stale biscuit,” friends said. “How can you turn on your own parents?”
But she brushed them off. If she wanted to blame her family for her miserable life, let her.
Romance? She had no time for it—unless the man had money. Not a millionaire, but someone comfortable.
“Give me a bloke who’s got a bit put away, not too tight-fisted,” she muttered.
Her looks weren’t winning any prizes, but she still hoped. A few men crossed her path, but she bullied them.
“I give you love—what do I get in return?” They never stuck around.
Daniel, who dated her briefly, told her bluntly, “You don’t even know what love is. When you figure it out, ask again.”
She snapped back, “What, you want me to study the Kama Sutra for you?”
He sighed. “Never mind. You’ll never get it.”
The insult stung. She thought she was clever—how dare he call her clueless?
Then she met Robert and tried a different tack. Instead of demands, she played pitiful.
“I’m all alone. My parents dote on Sophie and Oliver. I might as well not exist.”
Robert frowned. “What about their house? If they leave it to Sophie, you’ll get nothing.”
That got her thinking. Greed gnawed at her. On her next day off, she visited the village, pretending nothing had happened.
“Hello! How are you all?”
Her mother stared. “We didn’t even have your address. We didn’t know if you were alive.”
“I’m here now,” Emily waved it off. “So… what’s the plan with the house?”
Her mother, oblivious, answered, “We’re fixing it up at last.”
Her father pulled her aside. “A bit early to be dividing our estate, isn’t it?”
Emily squirmed. He cut her off. “Sophie and Oliver won’t go without.”
She remembered that. Suddenly, she visited often, bringing Oliver toys and books.
At work, the women advised, “Bring Sophie and Oliver to the city. You’ll get a council flat faster.”
She convinced her parents. Soon, Sophie and Oliver moved in. At first, Emily wouldn’t let Sophie lift a finger—but then she realised she could exploit her gratitude. She barked orders, hurled insults—but only in private.
In public, Emily played the saint. “I took in my sister and nephew,” she’d sigh. Neighbours admired her sacrifice.
Sophie never complained. She owed Emily, didn’t she? The city had better schools, better doctors. Oliver thrived. She worked as a shop assistant, kept the flat spotless.
But Emily raged behind closed doors. “Useless, the both of you!”
Sophie endured, but she dreamed of escape.
Then fate smiled. At a doctor’s appointment, she met Oliver—the GP. Charmed, he stunned her at her next visit.
“Sophie… marry me.”
She gasped. “You’re joking.”
“Dead serious. Let’s get to know each other. I think you’re the one.”
Soon, she and Oliver moved in with him. He adopted Oliver, and they had a daughter later. Life was peaceful.
Emily, alone and broke, showed up one day.
“You lived off me for years. Time to pay up.” She named a figure.
Oliver was speechless. He threw her out but later delivered the money with a warning.
“Stay away from my family.”
She laughed. “Oliver’s not even yours.”
“Legally, he is. And if I see you near them again, you’ll regret it.”
Ten years passed. Sophie and Oliver lived in a big house. Emily had a stroke.
Sophie took her in, nursed her, bought special mattresses, spared no expense.
One day, Emily saw herself in the mirror—a wrinkled old woman, mouth twisted. She cried, ashamed.
“They could’ve dumped me in a home. I would’ve.”
She wept silently at night, her hard heart finally softening.
Now, she lives with Sophie’s family, walks with a stick, speaks haltingly. They keep her close.
At Easter, they visited their parents’ graves. Emily wept.
Better late than never.
