Molly didn’t want to go home. Her father had casually mentioned over breakfast that he’d be bringing another “lady friend” to meet her that evening. Again, she’d have to force a polite smile and play the obedient daughter, just so this stranger might stay in their house. Molly was tired of this never-ending charade.
Since her parents’ divorce, their flat in Manchester had turned into a revolving door. Her father invited one “mother figure” after another, and sometimes Molly regretted choosing to live with him. Her own mother had always been as cold as a winter’s night—work came first, no matter what. Molly had grown up under her grandparents’ care, while her mother scolded her for the smallest misstep. Love? Warmth? Those were things Molly could only dream of.
Her mother had kept the family afloat, earning enough to provide, but at what cost? Molly often thought she’d have preferred a simple mum to a money-making machine. When the marriage fell apart, her parents split like a weight lifted off their shoulders. They both moved on—but Molly was left behind, feeling like an afterthought.
She’d tried desperately to get her mother’s attention—skipping school, talking back to teachers—anything to make her notice. But all she ever got in return was shouting and humiliation. After one particularly bad row, when the headteacher had called her mother in, she’d slapped Molly and kicked her out. The girl packed her rucksack and left for her father’s place. Her mother didn’t even try to stop her—if anything, she seemed relieved.
Life with her father, James, was easier. Molly felt his warmth, his genuine affection. She straightened up, started doing well in school, stopped acting out. Her grandparents helped around the house while her father worked long hours to keep them comfortable. Their modest flat on Manchester’s outskirts became a fragile sanctuary, the closest thing to home Molly had ever known.
But everything changed when her father decided he wanted a new wife. Since then, their home had been overrun with strangers. Molly met them with icy rudeness, deliberately driving them away. She didn’t want any “mothers” who saw her as a burden. This time, though, her father was firm: “Molly, enough of the tantrums! I’m doing this for you—I want us to be a proper family!”
Stepping inside, Molly heard a familiar voice. Her heart skipped. She kicked off her trainers and peeked into the living room. There, at the table, sat her favourite teacher, Miss Evelyn. Molly adored her—kind, fair, always ready to listen. But what was she doing here?
Turns out, Miss Evelyn had come to discuss Molly’s grades. The girl was baffled. For a moment, she let herself imagine—could her teacher be the one? The “lady friend”? She held her breath, afraid to scare the hope away. But the conversation ended, and Miss Evelyn left, leaving Molly in a whirl of confusion.
Before she could even gather her thoughts, the doorbell rang. A stranger stood there—young, with bold makeup and a smug smile. Molly’s heart sank. She’d been so sure Miss Evelyn had come for a reason! In a rush of despair, she fled to her room, slammed the door, and burst into tears.
She stayed there until late, when her grandmother arrived. Molly poured out her fear and hurt. “I don’t want any stepmothers! Why can’t Dad see how awful this is?” she sobbed. Her grandmother listened, then hugged her tight. She understood—Molly’s young heart was bruised by loneliness and betrayal.
Later, her grandmother spoke to James. They agreed—no more “lady friends” until Molly was ready. And in the girl’s mind, a plan took shape. She was determined to bring her father and Miss Evelyn together. If dreams could come true, why not help this one along? Molly vowed to do whatever it took to make her favourite teacher part of their family.
Deep down, she believed it would happen. After all, even the darkest night holds a little light—doesn’t it?
