—
“You’ve got nothing to say.” Emily flung her hand toward the door, her voice trembling. “Just go!”
She stormed out of college, veering away from the bus stop. International Women’s Day was just around the corner, and she still hadn’t picked out a gift for Nan. Nothing ever felt right. As she hurried toward the high street, a muffled ringtone chimed from her bag. She stopped dead, fumbling for her phone. Nan’s name flashed on the screen.
“Nan, I’ll be there soon,” Emily said.
“Alright, love,” came the quiet reply.
Something was off. Nan’s voice sounded strange—guilty, almost.
“Are you okay?” Emily pressed before the call could drop.
“I’m fine. Just… hurry home.” The line went dead.
Emily shoved the phone back into her bag, spun on her heel, and marched toward the bus stop. Why had Nan sounded like that? Something was wrong. Why hadn’t she just said so? She should call back—her nerves were fraying with every second—but then she spotted her bus lumbering toward the stop. She broke into a sprint.
Maybe Nan had been pickpocketed at the shops. Or had her blood pressure spiked? That would explain it. And why was the bus crawling like this? She could’ve run faster. The city blurred past the smudged windows, and Emily chewed her lip, knuckles white around the seat in front of her.
Finally, her stop. She burst off the bus and power-walked toward the terraced house. The moment she turned onto her street, she spotted it—the light was on in the living room, even though sunset was hours away. A cold prickle ran down her spine. She broke into a jog. At the front door, she dug frantically through her bag for her keys.
“Where *are* they?” she hissed.
Then—a click. The door swung open, revealing Nan’s tight expression.
“Were you waiting for me?” Emily blurted.
“Come inside,” Nan murmured, stepping aside.
Emily stepped into the narrow hallway, scanning Nan’s face. The woman was nervous—really nervous.
“What’s happened?”
Nan glanced toward the half-shut living room door, then leaned in, voice low. “We’ve got… company.”
Emily’s pulse spiked. “Who?”
The silence stretched. The same dread twisted in her own chest now. Who could rattle Nan like this?
“You’ll see in a minute. Get your coat off.”
Emily peeled off her jacket, hooking it on the stand—then froze. A stranger’s wool coat hung there. Beneath it, a pair of pristine white ankle boots sat on the floor. Not just any boots. The kind Emily had only ever window-shopped for.
She shot Nan a questioning look, but the old woman just shook her head, nudging the living room door open. Emily smoothed her hair back, inhaling sharply before stepping inside.
The overhead light was on—Nan never used it, always preferring the lamp in the evening. Then movement. A woman in a black dress rose from the sofa. Sunken collarbones peeked from the neckline. Dark hair, messy, strands escaping a haphazard updo. Eyes tired. She looked exhausted. Or ill. Or freshly bereaved.
Her smile was stiff as she faced Emily.
And then—recognition burned through Emily like a brand.
The word *mum* flickered in her mind before vanishing. She hadn’t seen this woman in fourteen years, but she *knew*.
Whatever showed on Emily’s face killed the woman’s smile. What had she expected? A tearful reunion?
She’d been pretty once. Now, fatigue clung to her, and the black dress aged her. She was thirty-nine—Nan had said she’d had Emily at nineteen—but she looked older. Life had been unkind.
“Hello, darling,” the woman said softly. “Look at you. All grown up. Nan says you’ve got a boyfriend?”
Emily threw Nan an accusing glare. Already spilling her life story. Nan ducked her head.
The woman took a half-step forward. Emily recoiled. The woman froze, lost.
Emily wanted to bolt. Too much hurt had just crashed over her.
“Why are you here?” Her voice was ice and broken glass.
“I—I came back. Your birthday’s soon,” the woman ventured, forcing another weak smile.
Emily’s stare didn’t waver. “Two weeks. Bit late to remember, isn’t it? Why now? Why not a single call in *fourteen years*?”
“Emily, love, she *did* send money,” Nan cut in meekly.
“Oh, right! A whole *hundred quid*! Wow, we lived like kings on that—pasta, rice, enough to scrape by till next year.” Emily’s laugh was brittle. “Why bother showing up now? Could’ve just wired another pathetic handout. Or is the well dry this time? Decided to grace us with your presence instead?”
The woman flinched.
“I don’t want your money. And I don’t want *you*.” Emily’s voice shook. “Don’t come to my birthday. You’ve seen me now. Piss off back to wherever you’ve been.”
The woman didn’t move.
“When I came home from school,” Emily continued, bitterness thick in her throat, “Nan would tell me you’d called. Said you sent your love, promised you’d visit soon. I was stupid enough to believe her. But you *never* called back. I figured it out eventually—Nan was lying to spare me. So I pretended to believe her, to spare *her*. We’ve been lying to each other for *years*.”
She swallowed hard. “I told my mates at school you rang, that you sent stacks of cash for presents. That you were saving for a flat, that you’d come get me soon. And I *believed* it. Because the truth—that you forgot I existed—was too bloody cruel.”
“I *did* think about you—”
Emily cut her off. “After GCSEs, I went to college to learn tailoring. Started sewing dresses for Nan’s friends. They paid peanuts, but I was *proud*. While other girls were out clubbing or dating, I was hunched over a sewing machine every night—”
“Please… forgive me,” the woman whispered.
“Don’t call me that!” Emily’s shriek felt like it rattled the china cabinet.
“Why did you come back? Oh, right—your bloke dumped you. Found someone younger. Serves you right. Now you know how it feels to be thrown away.”
“Emily,” Nan chided.
One sharp look silenced her.
“Why’d you even let her in?” Emily spat. “She ditched both of us. Look at her—dressed for a funeral. Real drama queen act.” She zeroed in on the woman. “You never cared how we were getting by. Oh, *wait*—your yearly hundred quid. Really broke the bank, didn’t it?”
“Just let me explain—”
“I don’t *care* to hear it!” Emily’s voice cracked. “It’s too late for excuses. You’ve got nothing that could ever make this right.” She stabbed a finger toward the door. “*Get. Out.*”
“It’s your *mother*—” Nan tried.
“Where was my *mother* when I was ill? *You* sat up with me. *You* brought soup to hospital when I had pneumonia. The other kids had their mums kissing them goodnight—” Emily’s breath hitched. She steeled herself. “*Leave.*”
Shoulders slumped, the woman shuffled toward the hall. Emily sidestepped, avoiding even the brush of her sleeve. A cloying, syrupy perfume clung to her—something sickly and cheap. Emily held her breath, but the scent had already soaked into the room. How hadn’t she noticed it before?
Nan followed the woman out. Emily bolted to the kitchen, wrenching the window open. Cold air hit her face. She gulped it down, trying to scrub the perfume from her lungs. Car horns and distant laughter floated in from the street.
“Close that, you’ll catch your death,” Nan said from behind her.
Emily slammed the window shut.
“Is she gone?”
“Yes. I should’ve warned you—she just showed up. Fancy some tea?”
“Not hungry.”
“Her bloke cleaned her out. Took her savings, jewelry, everything. She had nowhere else to go.”
“I don’t *care*. I never want to see her again. I won’t forgive her. Not *ever*.” Emily collapsed onto a chair, face buried in her hands. Sobs wracked her.
“Sweetheart, it’s the hurt talking.” Nan’s hand rubbed slow circles on her back. “I’m not defending her. But she’s still my daughter. My heart breaks for her too.”
“Her heart never broke for *us*,” Emily choked out. “I *hate* her.”
“People make mistakes. She fell hard for that man, lost her head. Love does thingsMonths later, Emily would catch herself staring at an unfamiliar missed call—just once—before deleting it and holding Nan’s hand a little tighter at the dinner table.
