A mother shrieked, “You’ve betrayed me!” as the father vanished without a word.
Emily was fast asleep when the phone shattered the quiet of the night. She fumbled for the receiver, her heart pounding like a drum.
“Emily!” Her mother’s voice quivered with despair. “Come home! Now!”
“Mum, what’s going on?” She jolted awake, trying to steady her nerves. “Another row with Dad? Youve spent your whole lives bickeringsort it out yourselves!”
“Theres no one left to bicker with!” her mother wailed, voice cracking. “Your fathers gone!”
“Mum is Dad dead?” Emily froze, her blood turning to ice.
“Just come and see for yourself!” her mother snapped. “This isnt a chat for the phone!”
“See what?” She nearly shouted in confusion.
“Just come!” The line went dead.
Shaking, Emily scrambled to get ready. She raced to the family home in the outskirts of Manchester, dreading what awaited her.
“Emily! Get in here!” Her mothers voice rang like a funeral bell.
“What now?” she muttered, rubbing her bleary eyes.
“What now?! Im at my wits end, and shes asking questions!” Her mother was nearly hysterical.
“Mum, its seven on a Saturday morning,” Emily tried to reason, though worry gnawed at her. “Ive got plans, the kids, my husband. Explain, or Im not coming.”
“You wont come?!” Her mother gasped in outrage. “Do I mean nothing to you? You dont care about my suffering!”
“Mum, you and Dad have been at each others throats my whole life,” Emily cut in. “Im tired of playing referee.”
“Your father is gone!” her mother screamed before slamming the phone down.
“Whats all this?” grumbled her husband, James, rolling over in bed.
“Something serious, apparently,” she murmured, still reeling. “Ive got to go.”
“Theyre unbearable!” James huffed. “Does your mother forget youve got your own family?”
“James, not now. You dont pick your parents,” she sighed. “Ive got to go. Sorry, but youll have to handle the kids.”
“Like I havent before,” he grumbled. “Tell your mum if she calls like this again, Im filing for divorce.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“No, obviously,” he smirked. “But she needs a scare. Maybe shell get the hint.”
“She wont,” Emily shook her head, gathering her things.
Their family home had always been a warzone. Her mother, Margaret, was a whirlwind of shrieks, while her father, Henry, sat silent, lips pressed into a thin line. Outwardly, he ignored her tirades, but Emily knewinside, he was seething.
The rows had started when she was a teen. At first sporadic, they soon became daily. Her mothers shrill voice could wake the whole street. Even the old men on the park bench would mutter, “How does he live with that? Poor bloke.”
No one asked how Emily survived the chaos. From the outside, they looked picture-perfecther father ran a university lab, earned well, her mother stayed home, “caring” for the house and daughter. Though “caring” was generous. Margaret ruled everythingher husband, Emily, even the cleaner Henry hired to ease her load. A pointless effort.
The fights were public, brutal. Emily was just another piece of furnitureher feelings didnt matter. She dreamed of escape. And she did. She left for university in Manchester, barely visiting. But every return was poisoned by their shouting.
Once, her father finally snapped, “What do you want, Margaret? The moon?” Her mother, stunned hed dared interrupt, laughedthen fell silent. Briefly.
At their wedding, her mother outdid herself. Yanking Henry around, criticising everything, and when the toastmaster offered him the mic, shed leapt up: “Ill do it! You cant trust him with anything important!” Guests exchanged looks. Emily burned with shame.
After the wedding, her father secretly bought her a flat in Manchester, swearing her to secrecy. She only told James. “Blimey,” hed said. “Hope we never have secrets like that.” “Never,” she smiled. “I take after DadI cant stand drama.”
Memories flooded her on the drive. She expected the usual complaints, her fathers weary eyes. But reality was worse.
Her mother flung the door open, wailing, “I gave him everythingmy youth, my life! And he dares!”
“Mum, wheres Dad?” Emily gripped her shoulders.
“Your father ran off last night!” her mother sobbed.
“Ran off?” The floor seemed to drop beneath her.
“He packed his things and left while I slept!”
“Have you called him?”
“Of course! He wont answer! You tryhe wont speak to me!”
Emily dialled. Her father answered instantly, eerily calm. “I know why youre calling. Ive earned my peace from your mother. Im at a friends. If you need me, Im here. For you.”
“Dad, where are you?” She felt her mothers glare.
“In the countryside. For now. Well see. Alright?”
“Alright,” she whispered.
“What did you promise him?!” her mother shrieked. “That traitor!”
“Mum, enough! Dads not a traitor. Hes tired of your theatrics.”
“Thats what he told you?”
“No, thats me. Hes at a friends. Hell come back, dont worry.”
He never did. Her mother hunted down the address, stormed over. She banged, screamedno answer. She called endlesslysilence. She accused him of an affair. Finding no proof, her rage grew. “How dare he leave me without reason? Am I nothing?” she wept.
Finally, Emily snapped. “Mum, he doesnt want forgiveness. Hes not divorcing you, still pays the bills, blames you for nothing. He just wants peace. Hes had enough.”
“*Hes* had enough?!” her mother screeched. “*Im* the one whos endured everything!” She crumpled, sobbing, as if the truth had struck like a hidden blade.
