When Emily came into the world, the midwife told her mother that she would be a lucky child, as if born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Until the age of five, Emily indeed lived a joyful life: her mother braided her hair and read picture books to her, only occasionally getting frustrated when Emily didn’t want to learn her letters. Meanwhile, her father taught her how to ride a bike and took her to the countryside, letting her steer on the dirt road.
When she turned five, her parents shared the news that a baby brother would soon be joining their family.
“It’ll be a birthday gift for you,” they said.
The “gift” arrived promptly on her birthday, taking over all her subsequent celebrations: from the first year, Liam carved out a unique place in their family. Initially, because he was the baby, and later due to his prodigious talents.
Liam learned to read before Emily, and even at twenty, Emily read no faster than a child in primary school (now we’d call it dyslexia, but back then such terms were unknown, and Emily was placed in a special class). Liam’s math skills astounded his teachers, leading one to call her professor in disbelief, and he also composed unique, albeit peculiar, poetry.
Emily’s life of happiness came to an end—she not only shared her birthday with her brother but found her whole life revolving around Liam. Emily was tasked with taking Liam to school, his English lessons, swimming classes, and to Professor Robert’s for music and poetry lessons. When she expressed a wish to join a home economics club, her mother was appalled:
“Do you want me to quit my job to take Liam everywhere? You’re always thinking only about yourself!”
And so, Emily gave in. If she managed everything correctly: keeping track of Liam’s complex schedule, cooking separate meals for him (Liam turned vegetarian at six, while their father couldn’t go a day without meat), and bringing home money (earned by walking neighbors’ dogs), her mother praised her and stroked her short hair.
Emily’s hair was cut short because her mother had no time to braid it anymore; she needed to rehearse English with Liam in the mornings or jot down his nighttime poems. Emily’s own attempts at a messy ponytail resulted in notes from her teacher, written in red ink. After one too many notes, her mother took Emily to a salon for a short but quite nice haircut, though Emily cried all night over her lost hair.
“When you finish school, you can do as you please,” her mother said whenever Emily weakly protested yet another responsibility related to Liam. “What’s the difference to you? You do nothing but read your recipes anyway.”
Even after finishing school, both hers and Liam’s, she gained no freedom. Besides cooking three meals a day packed with nutrients, ironing and washing clothes, and handling other household tasks, Emily became something like his secretary. She managed his schedule, kept track of competitions and exams, and sorted his mail. When she mentioned wanting to work at a dog shelter, not only her mother, but Liam too lashed out at her, lamenting that he’d be lost without her.
And once again, Emily relented.
Only once did she rebel against the usual unfairness—when she met Mark.
Mark wasn’t handsome—tall, stout, spending all day coding on his computer. His relatives gave him a dog hoping he’d walk more, but instead, he hired Emily—and that’s how they met. Naturally, soon after walking his dog, she would stay overnight with him.
Her mother called, demanding she come home—she hated ironing shirts, and Liam wore nothing else. Liam also called, complaining that his pencils needed sharpening, their father had brought pies again, and there was nothing else to eat because their mother was on yet another diet.
“Leave me alone!” Emily yelled. “I’m not your maid!”
Mark kissed her tearful eyes and promised they’d marry one day. Then he left for America after receiving a lucrative job offer.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
When it was announced that Liam would receive an award, their parents nearly burst with pride—they informed every neighbor. Her mother hurried to book a salon appointment, and her father eagerly anticipated the financial aspect, hoping Liam might share with him some prize money, as he quite fancied a new car but lacked the funds.
Emily had more to do than ever—besides the usual cooking, cleaning, and fetching, she handled correspondence, booked flights, and arranged hotel stays with pools and vegetarian meals. She was so exhausted that when they arrived, with everything ready—the tuxedo, the speech, the audience eagerly awaiting in the hall—Emily kissed her brother on the cheek backstage and headed to the audience, hoping her parents saved her a seat.
A tall guard at the entrance to the hall stopped her, saying:
“Staff aren’t allowed through here.”
“What?” Emily was taken aback.
“Wait for your master backstage,” explained another younger guard with a cocky glance. “There’s no place for you dressed like that.”
Emily looked down at her old dress—it wasn’t that she didn’t have another; she just hadn’t had time to change. It wasn’t too shabby, but they really thought she was part of the staff. Though not far from the truth—it seemed she really was the help.
Her brother gave her a long, surprised look, and for a moment, Emily thought he might tell the guards: “Let her through, she’s my sister!” But he remained silent—the announcer was loudly calling his name, and he headed to the stage without a backwards glance.
She took a seat on a low chair by the wall, closed her eyes, and mentally reviewed her to-do list: pick up a suit from the dry cleaners, book a hotel and dinner reservation, organize emails—she hadn’t looked at them in two days. There would be heaps of congratulations—how would she ever manage to read them all?
She didn’t listen to what Liam said —he’d rehearsed his speech in front of her yesterday, and it was perfect. The usual thanks to parents, teachers, and his commitment to serving his country and world peace. Emily’s memory was excellent; she tracked phrases subconsciously.
Then something went off script. Instead of saying, “And I owe all of this to my dear parents (Mom’s in a green dress with a feathered hat, Dad in a matching dark suit and light shirt sitting in the front row) and unforgettable Professor Robert (he’s in a blue funeral suit sitting on some cloud, happily watching his best student),” Liam suddenly said:
“I was supposed to say something completely different, but listen… In reality, there’s only one person without whom I wouldn’t be standing here today.”
Emily imagined her parents proudly exchanging glances—each likely thought their contribution was greater, and she pictured Professor Robert falling off his cloud in shock.
“For my entire life, she dedicated hers to me. I long took it for granted. And you know, it’s time to return that kindness even though her role in my life is invaluable, and not all the world’s treasures could repay her.”
Her father’s vein likely bulged on his forehead—a usual sign he was upset—and her mother surely flushed, her eyes glistening with joy.
“I dedicate this day to you. And all the money I receive today, I want to give you to establish a dog shelter you’ve always dreamed of, and pursue whatever else you wish.”
These words seemed to resonate differently, drawing closer, and when Liam grabbed her hand and pulled her on stage, Emily was slow to grasp what was happening.
“Meet my sister, Emily. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have achieved anything.”
The applause thundered, blinding lights hit Emily. Only then did she begin to comprehend what was unfolding. She gazed at her brother with grateful eyes, and he looked back with a smile. That smile healed everything—the departure of Mark, the unrealized home economics club, the yearning shelter dogs… Though hunched and afraid, standing under the spotlight sparked something within Emily that made her straighten up.
Liam truly gave her all the money. And he hired a young assistant, whom Emily trained in everything she’d done for Liam all those years.
“You’ll no longer be my servant,” Liam said. “I’m sorry, Emily, for being such a blind fool.”
And she forgave him. Emily indeed set up a dog shelter, studied to become a pastry chef, and launched her own business—a small venture where she often worked the counter herself, yet everything was as she’d dreamed. One chilly October evening, just as she was about to close up, the doorbell chimed, announcing a visitor. Emily smiled warmly at the tall man in a black coat, began to ask what he wanted, but stopped short.
Before her stood Mark. Slimmer, somber, exhausted. Familiar.
“You came back…”
Emily felt her knees weaken and gripped the counter for support.
“Emily,” he smiled. “Forgive me, I was such a fool…”
Well, the second most important man in her life was asking for forgiveness—what more could she want?
Her father didn’t ask for forgiveness—both he and her mother ceased speaking to Emily, believing she coaxed Liam into giving her everything. But that no longer mattered—parents are parents as they are. And Mark… He returned, and for Emily, everything truly would be well.
