**Cramped!**
Emily blinked in surprise as she read the message on her phone:
*Hello, love. Sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out—I had my reasons. Your mother and I split when you were three, so you wouldn’t remember me. I won’t waste words saying I regret it or that I’m trying to make amends. I left for another woman, someone I loved, and I don’t feel guilty for that. I gave your mother the flat we lived in, walked away with just the clothes on my back. Paid child support, even if it wasn’t much, so I don’t think I acted like a villain.*
*Now, to the point. Five years ago, my new family and I moved to Australia, where we still live. My mother—your grandmother, Margaret—refused to join us. She stayed in her small two-room flat. I covered her care and expenses, but she passed recently. I couldn’t make it back for the funeral—too far, too costly—though we’re comfortable here.*
*She had no other relatives, and sorting the inheritance to sell the flat isn’t worth the hassle. So, we’re leaving it to you. I’ve arranged the paperwork with a solicitor. Your grandmother’s will names you as the sole beneficiary. You’ll need to cover some local fees, but his services are paid. Just keep her grave tidy—put up a headstone. A small cost for a flat of your own.*
*This is for you alone. Your mother got the flat and support, and whatever she’s done since isn’t my concern. Again—this is only yours.*
*Be happy, love.
Your father, William Harris*
At the bottom were the solicitor’s details. Emily called straight away. After confirmation, she arranged a meeting for the next afternoon. She decided not to tell her mother until she’d seen everything herself.
At home, Emily shared her mother’s cramped two-bed with her younger half-sister, Sophie. No one knew Sophie’s father, not even their mum. Though three years younger, Sophie had already married and had two boys. Now, four of them squeezed into one room while Emily and her mother shared the other. If this flat was real, it would be a miracle! She’d scraped together savings for a mortgage deposit. A tiny studio might have been possible—but now, fate was handing her a lifeline.
Her father had sent a floor plan—an old post-war two-bed, probably run-down. Who cared? It was hers! No more blaring telly, no screaming nephews invading her space. She could soak in a bubble bath for hours, walk around wrapped in just a towel—or less. No more fridge raids or piled-up dishes. She’d sip coffee in a fluffy robe, designing interiors that actually sold.
And—she flushed—maybe even a proper love life. The small room would be her private sanctuary. The kitchen, her office. The larger room, for guests. She grinned, then checked herself. First, she had to be sure.
The next day, she met the solicitor—a casually dressed but well-to-do middle-aged man. He confirmed everything, showed her the documents, then took her to the flat. It was shabby, but Emily didn’t mind. She could fix that.
*When can I get the keys?* she asked.
*In six months,* he said. *No other claimants, so it should be smooth. You can take the keys now, but I’d hold off on moving in—just in case. Change the locks, though. Let the neighbours know someone owns it now.*
Then came the hard part: telling her mother.
*Why’s William doing this through you?* her mother snapped.
*Because I’m his daughter?*
*I was his wife! If it’s about property, it should go through me!*
*Mum, it’s Grandma’s flat. Dad can’t fly back to deal with it, so he passed it to me. It’s mine.*
*Yours? What about me? Sophie and the kids? Are we nothing?*
*You’re family,* Emily said quietly, *but not to Grandma. Dad left you a flat. Paid child support. Why should he support Sophie—or her husband and kids? I put my life on hold when she got pregnant and moved them in. I’m 22—I want my own happiness too!*
*Sophie’s struggling! Four of them in one room!*
*That was her choice! She married a man with no flat, no savings. I was saving for my own place—now I won’t have to!*
*So you’ll leave us here?*
*Yes,* Emily said firmly. *I’ll sign my share over to you or Sophie. I’m done living like this.*
Her mother’s eyes glistened. *I thought… we could swap both flats for one big house. Room for all of us.*
*Mum, our flats aren’t worth that. And even if they were, Sophie would fill the space with more kids. I’ll be back where I started.*
*Then take me with you. Two rooms—one for each of us.*
*They’re connected, Mum. It’d be the same mess. Sophie gets this whole place, and I’m still trapped. I want my own life.*
*But she’s got a family!*
*And I don’t!* Emily’s voice broke. *Sophie’s pretty—that’s why Tom moved into this dump. Me? I’ve scraped by with flings. No one proposed. But now? Now I’ll find someone real. I’m not wasting this chance!*
Her mother turned up the telly, drowning her out. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as Emily pulled on headphones and turned away.
**Lesson:** Sometimes, holding on hurts more than letting go—especially when the only thing you’re clinging to is the weight of others’ expectations.
