Whispers of Secrets: A Family Drama in the Big City
William Thompson and his wife Eleanor set off for Manchester to visit their daughter. Even at the entrance of the apartment block where their Emily lived, William noticed how nervous his wife was.
“Ellie, is something wrong?” he asked, studying her closely.
“Oh, no, it’s just… we haven’t seen Emily in so long. I suppose it’s all hitting me now,” Eleanor tried to smile, but her voice trembled.
They climbed the stairs to their daughter’s flat. William pressed the doorbell firmly. No one answered.
“That’s odd. Could she really be out?” he muttered, glancing at Eleanor before pressing the bell again.
The lock clicked, the door inched open, and William froze, stunned by what he saw.
***
The father stood there, flushed with rage, his face burning. Eleanor grabbed his arm, pleading:
“Will, please, calm down! You know what the doctors said about your blood pressure! Let’s just talk to Emily properly!”
But William yanked his arm free, his voice turning low and threatening. Emily, standing in the doorway, felt a chill crawl down her spine—her father had never looked at her like this before.
“Let go, Ellie! Stop holding me back! You should’ve held onto her, not me!”
“Will, darling, please!” Eleanor glanced between her husband and daughter, helpless.
Six months ago, William had suffered a hypertensive crisis, and the doctors had warned him to avoid stress. Yet yesterday, he’d suddenly announced:
“Pack your things, Ellie. I can’t stand it anymore. Three months of excuses, and she hasn’t come home. Something’s not right. You’re her mother—why won’t you speak up?”
Eleanor *had* stayed silent. Not because she didn’t know, but because she knew too much. She and Emily had hidden the truth from William, hoping to fix things before telling him. They thought he’d be angry, but then it’d all be fine. But now—what could they say? What could they do?
“She’s just exhausted, studying, working part-time. She promised she’d come soon—you know how she is,” Eleanor babbled, but William was already putting on his coat.
He snatched his wallet, keys, phone, then took Eleanor’s mobile from her:
“And don’t you dare warn her! Am I her father or not? I saw how she acted last summer—fussing over her hair, turning sideways in the mirror, adjusting her ear. And she never said a word about *who*! Something’s wrong. We’re going to see her!”
On the train, Eleanor tried explaining, but gave up with a sigh:
“You’re rushing things. Emily wanted to tell you herself, once everything was settled. She didn’t want to worry you because of your blood pressure.”
“Ellie, enough about my blood pressure! I’m her father—I deserve to know what’s happening! I’ve got a bad feeling!” William snapped.
“Fine, ring the doorbell,” Eleanor sighed, squeezing his hand.
The door didn’t open right away. Emily must have checked the peephole and hesitated. But she finally opened it—she couldn’t leave her parents standing outside.
“I knew it! Emily, who is he? Whose child is it? Why did you hide this from us?” William’s voice shook with hurt and fury.
He staggered onto the landing, collapsing onto the steps and clutching his chest.
“Dad, why are you sitting there? Dad, come back inside!” Emily, with her now noticeable bump, looked lost and helpless.
His little girl—his pride—had left for university on a scholarship, and now… What now? William swallowed hard. If he didn’t protect her, who would? He had to find this boy, talk to him, do *something*.
“Dad, I wanted to tell you later, when things were sorted. But now… He was in a car crash. He’s in hospital!” Emily burst into tears like a child.
William stood, dusted off his trousers, and suddenly calmed. So what if there was a baby? What mattered was they were all alive. They’d raise it, manage—they’d been through worse.
Emily had been a late blessing for him and Eleanor. She’d been the smallest in her class but so serious—never fooling around, reading at break, top of her class. She got into university, worked part-time, shared a flat with friends. Last summer, those friends had visited their village—everything had seemed fine…
“Ellie, did you know? You knew and kept quiet?” he asked his wife, instantly regretting his sharp tone.
Eleanor lowered her eyes:
“Will, you were ill… The doctors said you needed rest.”
“Alright, I get it. Come on, Emily, let’s go inside. Tell us everything properly.”
Emily explained how she’d met James. He worked at the same company where she had a part-time job. He helped her, then they started dating. James said he wanted her by his side forever, to marry her. But he admitted—he’d been married. They wed straight after school, pushed by their mothers, who were old friends. He and Julia had stayed close, but only as friends. They divorced when Julia fell for someone else, but dragged their feet with the paperwork. Then Julia claimed she was pregnant and wanted him back. The other man had left her, and she’d decided James was her only option.
“And you believe him? That the child isn’t his?” William asked sternly.
“Yes, Dad, I do. James doesn’t lie. He was always with me—she was in another city. He went to talk to her, and then the crash happened. But he’ll recover and come back, I know it!”
“Alright, don’t worry. Give me his name, the town, his number.”
“Dad, no!”
“I won’t do anything to him, especially if he’s in hospital. I just want to talk. He’s the father of my grandchild, isn’t he? Maybe even my future son-in-law?”
William wiped Emily’s tears and smiled:
“Remember our song? *’Hush now, Em, don’t you cry, Daddy’s strong—he’ll get us by!’*”
“I remember, Dad,” Emily smiled through her tears. “Here’s James’s number. Thank you.”
“I’m coming with you,” Eleanor said at once.
“Fine, but I’ll talk to the boy alone. What if he’s lying? Or just a scoundrel? I need to know. You’ll stay in touch, Ellie.”
James was indeed in a small-town hospital near Manchester, just moved from ICU to a ward. William flashed his old ID at the desk:
“Major William Thompson, retired. Here to see James Carter. Fifth ward? His wife there? Doesn’t matter—I won’t be long.”
In the room, a pretty girl sat beside James. William didn’t flinch:
“Hello. You James Carter? I’m Emily’s father—remember her?”
Despite his weakness, James brightened:
“Mr. Thompson? This is Julia, my childhood friend—and ex-wife. She’s been a nightmare. Fell for some bloke, he ditched her, so she decided I was the better option. Had to sort it out, then the crash happened. Lucky to be alive! I’m sorry—I promised Emily I’d fix things, and she believes in me!”
“And this baby of Julia’s? Think I don’t know?” William smirked.
“Julia made it up to get me here. There’s no baby. We filed for divorce online. I love Emily, Mr. Thompson, and I want to marry her. We’re having a baby. Will you let me?” James tried to sit up.
“He really does only love Emily—this is all my fault,” Julia cut in.
“You’ve made a right mess, kids,” William shook his head. “What were you thinking?”
“I’ll prove I’m good enough for her. I’ll come back and make it right!” James said firmly.
“We’ll see. If anything goes wrong, we’ll raise that baby ourselves—and I’ll deal with you once you’re on your feet,” William said, turning to leave.
“Thank you, Mr. Thompson! I won’t let you down!” James called after him.
James kept his word. Before the birth, he and Emily married. From the hospital, he collected his wife and newborn daughter as a proper husband and father.
“Your dad’s going to be a brilliant grandad. We ought to give him a grandson next,” James whispered to Emily as he took the bundle from the nurse. “He believed in me—I won’t fail him. What matters is we’re together.”
William approached, offering his hand:
“Well then, son-in-law, congratulations on the little one!”
“And you on your granddaughter, Mr. Thompson! Thank you—for Emily, for everything!” James shook his father-in-law’s hand firmly.
“Be happy, kids,” William smiled. “When your children are happy, so are their parents.”
