“If I ever find out you’re talking to him, I’ll disown you!”—Mum gave me and my sister the most terrifying ultimatum.
“I’m not defending my dad, honestly,” says twenty-four-year-old Emily from Manchester. “What he did to Mum was awful. Left her with two little kids, no roof over their heads, not a penny to their name. My sister Lily was only six, and I was just a baby. This was the nineties—everything was falling apart, no jobs, no money. Mum had to fight just to survive.”
She worked herself to the bone, took any odd job she could find—selling vegetables at the market, scrubbing floors, digging gardens. All for us. I remember her coming home late at night, exhausted, hands rough and cracked, but still forcing a smile just so we wouldn’t worry.
“Did your dad ever help?” I ask.
“No. Not emotionally, not financially. Years later, he tried to explain it: ‘I was young and stupid.’ But Mum never asked him for a thing. No child support, no help. She’d say, ‘I’d rather go hungry than beg from him.’ That’s how proud she was.”
Emily’s mum went through hell. And I think that’s where her toughness came from—forged in pain and struggle. Her own mum, Emily’s gran, was strict, almost cold. No hugs, no affection. Everything ran on strict rules—dishes washed, homework done, beds made, floors polished. Once, Lily said something out of turn, and Mum gave her a look so sharp she didn’t dare meet her eyes for a week.
“Other girls had such different mums!” Emily remembers. “Sitting with them on park benches, reading bedtime stories, baking cakes together. Lily and I were jealous. We missed that. But now, looking back, I get it—we grew up strong. Both got degrees. Lily works at a top tech firm, and I’m just starting out, but I’m getting there.”
When Emily was eleven, her mum got her accounting diploma, landed a decent job, and life got easier. They saw the sea for the first time—just a weekend away, but it felt like magic.
Then, out of nowhere—her dad reappeared. She was eighteen. He reached out to Lily first, wanting to reconnect. But Lily shut him down.
“He’d done the maths. No more child support to pay. Now he wants to be a father? Sorry, I don’t know him.”
Emily wrestled with it. Betrayal on one side, curiosity on the other. In the end, she took the risk. Met him. They had coffee, then he showed her his new family.
“I was surprised,” she admits. “He was… normal. Calm, thoughtful, easy to talk to. No blame, no pressure. We started meeting now and then. But I hid it from Mum for years.”
The truth came out when Lily slipped up.
“If I find out you’re speaking to him, I’ll cut you off. Remember that,” Mum said, icy, no drama—just a steady stare. And Emily was terrified.
Since then, seeing her dad became a secret. She hid her phone, changed his contact name. Lived a double life. And then… he gave her an impossible gift.
“Me and my fiancé just put in for our marriage licence. Money’s tight, we’re renting. Dad found out—and offered to buy us a flat. ‘A fresh start,’ he said. ‘My way of making it right.’ I cried. I’ve dreamed of my own place forever! But now… what do I do?”
Emily doesn’t believe in curses, but Mum’s words haunt her. The truth could ruin everything. But lying? She can’t keep it up.
“How do I tell Mum where the flat came from? Say we saved up? She knows we don’t have that kind of money. Hiding it won’t work. But telling her means facing her rage. Right before the wedding… I don’t want fights, but I can’t live like this.”
So what’s the answer? Truth and risk losing Mum? Or silence and carry the guilt? Emily doesn’t know. But she hopes—after all that pain—Mum might find it in her to forgive. Or at least understand.
