**Don’t Let Me Down**
Lucy’s father was a stern man. Even her mother feared him, too scared to say a word out of turn. With other children, though, he was different—smiling, kind. Yet with Lucy and her mother, he only snapped. For years, she couldn’t understand why he didn’t love her. The truth came much later, in her teenage years.
At school, Lucy worked tirelessly to excel, desperate to avoid his disapproval. Since Year 7, she’d dreamed of earning top marks in her A-levels and studying at a university in Edinburgh.
When relatives or family friends visited, they’d praise the bright, pretty girl and ask about her future plans. Lucy would glance nervously at her father and murmur that she hadn’t decided yet. She kept her dreams to herself.
“Eleven years of school is enough,” her father would say. “I’m not supporting her till retirement. She’s grown—let her work. Everyone wants to be some big-shot academic or manager, but who’ll do the real work?”
“Paul, really,” her mother would interject weakly. “Lucy’s clever—straight As. With grades like that, you’d have her stacking shelves? These days, you need a degree to get anywhere. A good job means meeting a respectable husband too.”
But her father wouldn’t listen.
“Stop your nonsense,” he’d sneer, shooting his wife a withering glare. “What’s a girl need education for? Cooking and cleaning don’t require fancy papers. She can have babies without a diploma. Education just causes trouble. Look at you—what did yours ever get you?”
Her mother would shrink under his gaze as he ranted on. Guests grew uneasy, staying silent rather than challenge him.
So Lucy swallowed her words, never sharing her hopes. But after acing her exams, she resolved to leave for Edinburgh. She was an adult now—nothing would hold her back. She’d prove her worth. Fearless, she marched home, clutching her glowing report card.
Yet at the sight of her father’s scowl, her courage faltered. Still, she announced her decision.
“You’re not going,” he snapped. “I fed you, clothed you—now it’s your turn to support us. What’s in Edinburgh for you? I know all about your ‘studying.’” He threw a pointed glance at his wife.
“You’re staying!” His fist slammed the table, sending plates rattling, soup sloshing.
“And don’t you defend her,” he growled at his cowering wife. “You’ve got no room to talk. Remember where your ‘education’ got you? You should be thanking me daily for marrying you, saving your reputation, raising this ungrateful brat.”
“Paul, not in front of her—” her mother pleaded.
“Why not? Let her hear the truth. Maybe she’ll learn from your mistakes. Though…” He waved a hand. “Like mother, like daughter.”
“*Mum*,” Lucy whispered, tears brimming.
“She’s getting a job. That’s final.” He slurped his soup loudly.
Lucy fled to her room. Later, her mother slipped in.
“Why does he hate me?” Lucy sobbed.
And then her mother confessed everything.
“Now I know why he won’t let me go. And honestly? I’m glad he’s not my real father,” Lucy said, wiping her tears.
“I’ll talk to him again. Here.” Her mother pressed a roll of banknotes into her hand. “It’s not much, but it’ll help. Hide it well. I saved in secret—I can’t promise more. He checks every penny.”
“Thank you, Mum. I’ll figure it out. But he’ll hurt you—”
“He won’t kill me. Maybe shout, slap me once or twice. He’s entitled. But you—go to Edinburgh. Don’t let me down.”
Three days later, while her father was at work, Lucy left.
She enrolled, moved into dorms, but her mother’s money ran out fast. Lucy took a cleaning job at a nearby office, working evenings after classes.
Her roommate, Martha, was gorgeous and carefree—more interested in parties than books. She had a wealthy older boyfriend, Richard, whom she’d met at a club.
“Why him? He’s married, isn’t he?” Lucy once asked.
“He’s *rich*. What’s some broke student got to offer? Think my parents send me designer clothes?” Martha laughed. “Richard’s renting me a flat. Help me move?”
The flat was lavish. Lucy visited often, even staying over when Richard was busy.
She missed her mother, calling whenever her father wasn’t home. When summer came, Martha invited her on a trip.
“I can’t afford it,” Lucy said.
“Richard’s paying. He’s paranoid I’ll ditch him for some young thing. You’re my chaperone.”
“*Do* you love him?”
“Are you coming or not?”
They sat on the train, watching as golden wheat fields gave way to sunflowers and vineyards. The sea was just as Lucy remembered—vast, soothing. They swam at dawn, strolled at dusk, drawing admiring glances.
One evening, two men invited them to a café. Lucy watched, stunned, as Martha flirted.
“Relax,” Martha hissed. “Richard won’t know. You won’t tell, right?”
They split up afterward. Martha vanished with her date, while Lucy walked the promenade with James, a kind-eyed man whose smile felt genuine.
Martha stumbled home at dawn.
“Richard will kill you!” Lucy gasped.
“*Please*. He’s with his wife. How far did *you* get?”
“Nowhere. I promised Mum I wouldn’t repeat her mistakes.”
James called often after they left, vowing to visit at Christmas. But when the holidays came, he vanished.
Meanwhile, Martha dropped out of uni, pregnant. “It’s Richard’s,” she said smugly. “His wife couldn’t give him kids.”
Lucy graduated alone, landing a translator role at a prestigious firm—thanks to her old office manager. She thrived, traveling abroad, saving diligently. Four years later, she bought a flat; a year after that, her first car.
Only then did she return home, a decade later. Her mother wept with joy. Her father scowled.
“Back for good?” he grunted.
“I missed you,” Lucy said, hugging her mother.
“Bought a *car*, eh? Must’ve found a sugar daddy.” His lip curled.
“*I* bought it. I’m a translator—well-paid. I also do literary work.”
“Honest money? Doubt it. ‘Translator’—sounds like escort to me.”
Lucy’s fists clenched. “Thanks, Dad. If I were really yours, you’d be proud, wouldn’t you?”
For once, he fell silent. She’d won.
Years later, at a work event in London, a man approached her—*James*.
“You’re even lovelier,” he said.
He’d divorced his gold-digging wife. “I thought you didn’t want me. You were so… guarded.”
Lucy told him everything—her mother’s shame, her father’s resentment, her vow to never repeat history.
“Why didn’t you explain? I’d have understood. I *wanted* you.”
“Would you wait for me now?”
“I’ve waited this long.”
“Don’t let me down,” she whispered.
**”Time doesn’t weaken true love—it deepens it. Like fine wine, its richness unfolds slowly, savored over years, until you can’t imagine life without its warmth.”**
