Emily reread the email and pressed send. Now she could go for a coffee. She leaned back in her chair, stayed like that for a moment, then closed her inbox, stood up from her desk, and walked out of the office.
In the break room, Sarah sat alone at the table, sniffling. Emily steered clear of others’ troubles. Sarah probably got scolded by her boss for some mistake. Emily switched on the kettle, grabbed her mug from the shelf, added two spoonfuls of instant coffee, and waited for the water to boil.
Sarah sniffled and turned toward the window.
“What’s wrong? Did your boss reject your translations? Made some errors?” Emily asked.
“What’s it to you?” Sarah mumbled.
“I just wanted to offer help.”
“No thanks.”
“And why are you crying?”
Emily suddenly remembered seeing Sarah sliding into a sleek car a few days ago, her smug gaze sweeping the office entrance. Now the man was gone, no goodbye, and Sarah wept for her shattered dreams.
The water boiled. Emily poured it into her mug and sat across from Sarah. She slid a pack of tissues toward her.
“Pull yourself together. Don’t let everyone in the office know about your problems. Rumors spread fast. And don’t delay about terminating it.”
“What are you talking about?” Sarah raised her swollen, tear-stained face.
“Classic story. Told you he’d never leave his wife, promised you the world, then vanished, ignoring your calls. You’re two lines on a pregnancy test. Same old.” Emily smirked.
“Or do you want to keep the child? Think it through. You’ll be working overtime to pay the rent, drop him at daycare before your shift, and take sick days when he’s ill. No one’ll trust you with important projects. You’ll end up teaching in a school, tutoring to survive. Marry some poor electrician, begging him to stick it out. Have another child, juggle both, sleepless and irritable. He’ll cheat, leave you for a younger woman, like this one did. You’ll be stuck working two jobs, scraping together money for two kids…”
“Shut up! You know nothing,” Sarah cut in.
“What’s there to know? I grew up watching my parents’ mess. Just painted your future. Think about it.”
“You’re cruel!” Sarah hissed, storming out and leaving crumpled, damp tissues on the table.
Emily sipped her coffee. Another love-struck novice. The man in the car would probably return to his wife or find a better option.
“Emily, Mr. Thompson’s looking for you,” Lucy, the secretary, poked her head in.
“Coming.” Emily finished her coffee, washed the mug, set it in the sink, and headed to the manager’s office.
“So, quitting after all? Wise choice. More opportunities in London. Write your resignation. I’ll see to the accounts. No need to work it out. Good luck…”
Colleagues called her ambitious. They envied her. She got the best translation contracts, impressed clients with her precision. She’d mastered silencing arrogant clients or self-important employers. She seemed cold, calculating. Gossiped about endlessly—some said she’d been betrayed in love, now focused solely on work. Only she knew none of it was true.
Her decision formed years ago, after witnessing her parents’ strife.
***
Lately, her parents argued daily. Her mother found excuses, always blaming her father for not earning enough, for being a failure who ruined their lives.
Once, her father’s business partner had scammed him. He quit the trade, became a math lecturer at a college. Students adored him, but her mother complained it wasn’t enough. She took a second job, often returning home late. One day, she came in late again. Emily had already fallen asleep but woke to the commotion. Her mother dropped something in the hallway, shouted loudly.
“Keep it down! You’ll wake the whole block. Did you stay at work again?” Emily heard her father’s voice.
Her mother mumbled something indecipherable.
“Are you drunk? Think about your daughter. She’s not a child anymore,” he snapped.
“I’m tired,” her mother replied weakly.
“Well, you should be.”
Emily crept into the hallway to listen better.
“What complaints do you have? You can’t find a decent job, so I’m working double shifts. Feed us both on your salary. Concerned about me now? Look at what my daughter’s begging for—new boots, a dress. And I haven’t bought anything for myself in months!”
“I know where you work,” her father spat.
“So what? If they pay, I’ll do anything. Earn it yourself. Can’t? Then shut up. You’re a disgrace. Remember what you promised me? That I’d never lack for anything? That I’d always have your strength? Where is it now? Useless waste of space. I, an idiot, believed you…”
“Let’s talk later,” her father begged.
“Too late. The whole block should hear what a man you are. Some backbone! I’ve had enough.” Her mother’s slurred laughter echoed through the flat, then a slap. She screamed, hurled insults, ordered him out.
Naked feet froze against the cold laminate floor. Emily heard enough that she shouldn’t have. Stood there a moment longer, then tiptoed back to bed, pulling the blanket over her head.
They’d fought before, but never like this. That night, Emily realized her mother had someone else. The next morning, her father was gone. Her mother avoided her, eyes puffy.
“Where’s Dad?” Emily asked.
“Business trip.”
Her mother came home late again. Emily watched from the window as a car pulled up, her mother stumbled out, then the car left. She slipped under the covers, feigning sleep.
The next day, she asked, “Are you divorcing him? Is there someone else? I saw…”
“You’re an adult. Maybe you’ll understand someday,” her mother said.
But Emily didn’t understand. Her father was kind, never drunk. He’d built snowmen with her, flown kites. How could that man be better? She refused to accept it and went to the college where he taught.
“Your mother’s right. I’m a failure. I couldn’t give her the life she wanted. Maybe he’s the right one. I’d take you in, but my place is a flatshare with two kids. I sleep in the kitchen. Just bear it.”
That decision shaped her. She’d fight for everything alone. Love was fleeting. Money mattered. Her daughter would never witness such arguments.
Emily worked hard. After high school, she enrolled in a distance learning degree, took a part-time job at the university. She studied late, read foreign films without subtitles, taught postgraduate students.
They divorced. Her mother moved in with another man. Her father stayed with a woman, claiming he rented a room from her. He became more composed. Emily invited him to stay, but he refused.
She kept contact with her father, less with her mother. Resentment grew. Emily couldn’t forgive the betrayal, and her mother resented her taking her father’s side. Both lived with it.
Emily became a top translator, tutoring part-time. Romance? Suitors came, but they were interested in more than her. Her flat, for one. She saw through it.
An international exhibition in Manchester offered a job. She joined, impressed, then received an offer to move to London. She hesitated, now deciding to jump.
***
After work, she visited her father.
“Dad, I’m moving to London. The flat’s yours. Promise me you’ll ask if you need anything?”
“Nothing’s needed. I’m not going. What if she sells it? I’m used to it here. Call me anyway.”
“I will. Marriage plans?”
“Not for a while. If I do, you’re first on the list.”
“Good. Maria made borscht?” Emily smirked.
“She did? Don’t be shy. I’m happy for you.”
“Stop avoiding her?”
“I’ll drop by. Gotta go. Need to pack.” Emily hugged him, kissed his cheek. She’d grown taller.
She avoided the mother but decided to say goodbye. Their relationship was strained.
She spotted her mother approaching the apartment, two shopping bags in hand, head down. As a man exited the building.
“Not a chance. You’ll drink again. Find a proper job, you freeloader!” her mother ordered.
Emily turned away. The old argument replayed in her mind. Her mother had sought a “secure man,” only to find another failure.
If her parents hadn’t fought, Emily might’ve married young, had children. But thanks to their disputes, she’d earned her London flat and career. A man’s support? She’d make do without.
Parents, lost in their own struggles, often ignore children’s pain. But every shouted word sticks. Some follow their parents’ path; others rebel, sacrificing love.
Emily walked to London, determined to build her future alone.
