She promised her daughter would stay with Gran… But everything changed.
“Tom, why so glum?” Sam clapped him on the shoulder as they left the gym.
“My life’s falling apart, and I’m pretending it’s fine,” Tom muttered, staring at the ground.
“Let’s grab a coffee—you can tell me about it. Sounds serious.”
They slipped into a small café near the fitness club, ordering lattes and a slice of Victoria sponge. Sam chatted away about picking out a pram for his newborn son, laughing at the silly moments. But Tom just nodded absently.
“Where’s your head at? I’m here cracking jokes, and you look like you’re at a funeral,” Sam finally snapped.
Tom took a deep breath, clasping his hands.
“You know Emma has a daughter, Lily. She was just two when we got together. All this time, she’s lived with Emma’s mum in Bristol. Emma sent money, visited, but swore Gran would raise her. Even after we married and moved to London, she insisted, ‘It’s just us two, always will be.’ But six months ago, she brought Lily home. Said it made sense—school’s close, everything’s nearby. But it doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not what I signed up for.”
Sam was quiet, then sighed.
“Mate, you knew she had a kid. Did you really think the girl would stay away forever?”
“Yeah, but Emma *promised*! She said Lily would stay with Gran. Now that kid’s always underfoot, needing attention. I love Emma, but I can’t pretend she’s mine.”
“Then either step up or walk away. There’s no in-between. If you want Emma, you love Lily too. Or make space for someone who can.”
On the walk home, Tom replayed the talk in his head. He remembered Emma asking him to take Lily to ballet, hoping they’d bond. Instead, he’d scowled, brushed her off. That evening, he’d agreed to drive Lily to dance class but stayed silent the whole way. She’d chattered about her art lesson, how excited she was for Christmas.
“Tom… do you not like me?” she’d suddenly asked.
“Why d’you say that?”
“You never talk to me. You don’t smile. Do I bother you? There’s a boy in my class I don’t like either—we’re not friends. Maybe that’s us…?”
He hadn’t answered—they’d arrived. But her words stuck like a thorn. Later, as Emma tucked Lily in, he’d approached.
“Emma… will Lily go back to Gran? Maybe after Christmas?”
His wife turned, bewildered.
“Are you serious? We’ve been married six years. You *knew* about Lily. She’s my daughter—she belongs with us. Mum’s getting older; she can’t manage anymore. And a child needs her mother. What’s *your* problem?”
“We never agreed to this. I thought we’d have *our* kids, not me raising someone else’s girl. I’m sorry, but she’s not family to me.”
Emma went pale. She stepped back sharply.
“*Someone else’s*? You’ve shared my life for *six years*, talked about forever—and now my daughter’s in the way? I need time. Sleep on the sofa tonight.”
Tom lay there, thoughts racing like caged birds. He knew Emma was right. Yet it *hurt*—he’d trusted one plan, and life had rewritten it.
By dawn, he dreamed of Lily running to him, laughing as he swung her around. “*Dad*,” she’d whispered. He woke sweating, unsettled. The dream had cut deeper than expected.
Standing before the mirror, he faced the truth: embrace Lily as his own, or leave before he did more damage. The choice was his.
Love isn’t just a feeling—it’s a choice, one we must make before life decides for us.
