I knew you’d call, Mum…
The phone buzzed right in the middle of the lecture. Sophie pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and declined the call. But it buzzed again.
“Gregory, have some decency. Either turn your phone off or answer it,” the professor said irritably.
“I will. May I?” Sophie gestured toward the door.
“Go,” the professor sighed.
“Milly, what is it? I’m in class,” Sophie asked, stepping into the hallway.
“Sophie… your parents were in an accident,” Milly’s voice trembled.
“What?” Sophie’s stomach dropped.
“Come home. Quickly.”
Pale and shaken, Sophie returned to the lecture hall, shoved her textbook and notebook into her bag, and headed for the door.
“Don’t you have anything to say, Gregory?” The professor’s sharp voice followed her.
“I’m sorry—it’s urgent,” Sophie managed before slipping out.
“Soph, what’s going on?” Nicholas caught up to her by the stairs.
“I don’t know. Milly rang—said my parents were in an accident. She told me to come home.”
“Are they—? I’ll go with you.”
“Nicholas, you don’t have to—”
“You might need help. Give me your phone; I’ll call a cab.” Only then did Sophie realise she was still clutching it in her hand.
“God, please let them be alive,” she whispered, handing it over.
The entire ride, Sophie fidgeted with the strap of her bag. Nicholas covered her hands with his, steadying her.
“Please, go faster,” she begged the driver. It felt like they were crawling.
“Can’t. Cameras everywhere,” he replied calmly.
“I’ll pay the fines, just hurry,” Sophie pleaded, her voice breaking.
The driver sighed, pressed the accelerator, and overtook the cars ahead. “If we crash, we all go together.”
Finally, her house. Nicholas paid while Sophie dashed through the gate.
Milly spotted them from the window and hurried out to the porch of the large two-storey house, tears streaking her cheeks, hands clutched to her chest.
“Are they alive?” Sophie sprinted up the steps, stopping just short of her.
“Leonard passed at the scene. Margaret’s in hospital.”
“Why didn’t you say that straight away? Which hospital?”
“The Royal Infirmary.”
“Nicholas, did the cab leave?” Sophie turned to him.
“Wait—” He pulled out his phone. “Have you gone? Can you come back?”
Sophie didn’t rush anymore. She cried silently in the back seat, her face buried in Nicholas’s shoulder.
The hospital staff hesitated to let her see her mother.
“That’s my mum! Let me in! I need to see her!” Sophie sobbed, pleading with the doctor.
“She’s critical. Unconscious.”
“Please,” Sophie begged.
“Fine. But no outbursts.” The doctor led them to the ICU.
Later, in the cab home, Sophie turned to Nicholas. “Mum… will she live? I’ve got no one else. No one.”
“What about Milly? Isn’t she family?”
“The housekeeper. Been with us forever—practically raised me. I called her ‘aunt’ so no one would ask questions.”
“Why?”
“Do you think any of our classmates have live-in help? How d’you think they’d treat me if they knew?”
The rest of the ride passed in silence. At the house, Nicholas moved to step out, but Sophie stopped him.
“Don’t. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said before disappearing inside.
Milly met her in the hall, apron dusted with flour.
“Well? Did you see her?”
“Yes. She’s in a coma.”
“Oh, Sophie.” Milly pulled her into a crushing hug, weeping. “We must pray Margaret pulls through. The funeral home’s handling Leonard’s arrangements—they rang earlier.” She stroked Sophie’s back. “What a tragedy. He was such a good man. Never raised his voice, always kind…”
Sophie let Milly fuss, then retreated to her room, curled into a ball on the bed.
Milly woke her at dawn. The sorrow etched on her face told Sophie everything.
“They rang just now. She passed in the night… God rest her soul,” Milly whispered, crossing herself. “Oh, Sophie…”
Later, over untouched tea, Sophie whispered, “I’m completely alone now.”
“I’ll stay awhile. But I’m getting on—time to retire. Thirty years with your family, I have. Started when your grandfather Bernard was still alive.”
The funerals passed, then the memorial days. Gradually, the house emptied of visitors, colleagues, well-wishers. The phone stopped ringing. Silence settled like dust.
Sophie attended lectures only because Nicholas insisted. Otherwise, she’d have stayed in bed, facing the wall. Milly made her eat, threatening to leave if she didn’t take at least a spoonful of broth. And so Sophie ate—not to be left entirely alone in the big house.
One evening, as their tea went cold, Milly broke the silence.
“I swore to your parents I’d never tell. But they’re gone now, so the vow’s lifted. You deserve the truth.” She crossed herself. “May Leonard and Margaret forgive me.”
“What truth?” Sophie sighed.
“You’re not alone. You have another mother,” Milly said firmly.
“Don’t be absurd. Mum’s dead.”
“Margaret wasn’t your birth mother. Your real mother—I think she’s still alive. Though I don’t know where.”
Sophie stared.
“Not my mother? Then—my father?”
“He was yours. Listen. I’ve been here forever; Leonard trusted me. That’s how I know. Wouldn’t believe gossip otherwise.”
Margaret couldn’t have children. She and Leonard tried everything—doctors, treatments. Then a girl started working at his firm. Eighteen, fresh from some village, failed her uni exams, too proud to go home. And your father—handsome, charming. Women flocked to him. Your birth mother was no exception.
When she got pregnant, she wanted an abortion. Came to Leonard for money. He convinced her otherwise—rented her a flat, promised support if she’d give the baby to him and Margaret. She agreed at first, then changed her mind near the end. What mother could hand over her child after carrying it nine months?
Leonard dug up her past—raised by a single mum in poverty, hand-me-down clothes, dreams of escape.
“You want that life for your daughter?” he’d said. “I can’t support you forever. I’m a public figure—scandal would ruin me. I’m married. Won’t leave my wife. Think carefully.”
In the end, she signed the papers. Leonard claimed Margaret had given birth. No one saw her for months—easy enough to pretend.
They brought you home, and you cried endlessly, as if sensing your mother wasn’t there. Then she started lurking outside, begging to see you. Leonard took pity—hired her as your nanny, made her swear never to reveal the truth. Margaret was jealous. Only let her feed you, never keep you overnight. Eventually, your mother left—too painful to watch you call another woman “Mum.”
So you see—you’re not alone.
Sophie let Milly go, as promised. Now—how to find this woman? She told Nicholas, whose father was a policeman.
Three weeks later, he rang. “Found her. Only one matching the details.”
Sophie packed for London immediately.
“Wait—exams are next week! We’ll go together,” Nicholas urged.
“No. I need to do this alone.”
“Honestly? Don’t go. She gave you up—took money to disappear. Margaret raised you. Leave it be.”
But Sophie was adamant. “I need to look her in the eye. Ask why.”
“At least get specifics from Milly. What if she’s a fraud after money?”
“There’s a scar above her left eyebrow. Fell off a swing as a child. Hair doesn’t grow there.”
The London flat was in an ageing building, its grand staircase hinting at better days.
Heart hammering, Sophie rang the bell. The door opened to a fit, sharp-eyed woman.
“Natalie Nester?” Sophie asked. “May I come in?”
Natalie studied her—how she removed her shoes, tucked her hair behind an ear—then gestured inside. The flat was cramped, dim.
“This was servants’ quarters, back when the house belonged to gentry,” Natalie said, misreading Sophie’s glance.
“I’m your daughter,” Sophie blurted.
“Are you?” Natalie’s voice didn’t waver.
“I don’t want anything. Just—why did you leave me? You’ve a scar—from a fall as a child?”
Natalie didn’t answer. She lit a cigarette by the window.
“Sorry. This is… unexpected.”
“For me too,” Sophie whispered.
“You wantThe call ended, but Sophie held the phone tighter, knowing this was just the beginning of a fragile, newfound bond that would need time and care to grow.
