Emily Taylor

**A Home for the Sons** Edward was one of those men who could do anything. He built a house, fathered

**My Husband Shed a Tear When I Mentioned the Baby Might Be Someone Else’s—I Said ‘At Least It’s Not

**A Home for His Sons** William was the kind of man who could handle anything. He built a house, raised

The canteen hummed with the clamour of students, the clink of trays, and the exasperated sigh of a vending

So, it’s always just been me and my boy, Oliver. His dad walked out when Ollie was barely three—no note

**A Cold December Day at Wetherby High** The canteen hummed with the usual midday noise—trays clattering

It was a drizzly Tuesday morning, the kind that makes the world seem a little duller than usual.

It’s always just been us—me and my boy. His father vanished when Alfie was barely four. No note, no farewell

**Childhood Grudges** Emma spread the porridge onto the plates, drawing a silly face with jam in her son’s.

I was sitting across from my daughter at this lovely little café in London, watching her face glow in