The New Year holidays were coming to an end. After days of rich meals, cakes, and snacks, Emily decided to make porridge for breakfast—time to return to simple, everyday food.
The three of them were eating when the ringtone of her husband’s phone echoed from the other room. He stepped out. Emily couldn’t help but listen, trying to guess who was calling and why from his muffled replies.
When James returned, she noticed he didn’t look upset—more concerned than anything.
“Mm…” he began. “Mum called. Her blood pressure’s up. She asked me to come over.”
“Of course, go,” Emily nodded.
As he went to get dressed, she recalled his phone conversation: “Right now? Maybe it’s not the best time… Fine, fine.” Normally, when his mother demanded his presence, James would rush off without question. “Stop overthinking,” she scolded herself.
“I’ll be back soon,” James called from the hallway before the door clicked shut.
“Keep eating,” Emily urged their son, Thomas, who was dragging his spoon through the porridge, smearing it around.
“Are… are we still going sledging? You promised.” Thomas scooped a tiny bit of porridge and stared at it before finally taking a bite.
“We’ll go when Dad gets back. Deal?” She forced a smile. “But only if you finish your breakfast.”
“Okay,” the boy mumbled, bringing the spoon to his mouth again, unenthused.
“If that plate isn’t clean in five minutes, we’re not going anywhere,” Emily said firmly, standing to wash the dishes.
She was ironing while Thomas played with toy cars on the floor when the front door clicked open.
“Finally.” Emily set the iron down and listened to the rustling in the hallway. “What’s taking him so long?” she wondered, walking out to meet him.
A girl of about ten stood in the doorway, staring at Emily with curiosity. James appeared behind her, looking guilty. He placed his hands on the child’s shoulders, chin slightly raised in defiance.
“This is my daughter, Lily,” he said, eyes dropping to the top of her head. “Mum asked me to take her for the night.”
“Right. And her mother? Off with another boyfriend to Spain, is she?” Emily scoffed.
James shrugged but didn’t get a chance to respond before she turned back to the ironing board.
“Come in,” she heard him say, catching a glimpse of the girl approaching Thomas on the floor.
“Do we still have porridge?” James asked.
“I don’t want porridge,” Lily cut in. “I want spaghetti with sausages.”
James glanced between Lily and Emily, lost. Emily shrugged and waved toward the kitchen—go on, then.
A moment later, he called her in.
“Do we even have spaghetti? I couldn’t find any.”
“There’s leftovers. I’ll finish ironing, then pop to the shop.” She shot him a pointed look.
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t know this would—”
“Really? Your mother didn’t mention why she wanted you over?” His silence confirmed her suspicions. “And you didn’t think to ask me? Or prepare Thomas for this? Now they’ll be fighting over you.”
As if on cue, Thomas burst into tears. Emily rushed in, James close behind.
“There. Sort this out,” she said, throwing her hands up.
Thomas clung to her, burying his face in her side. Lily stood stiffly, glaring at the floor.
“What happened?” James approached his daughter.
Emily’s stomach twisted—he went to Lily first, not Thomas.
“She took… took my c-car,” Thomas sobbed.
The sound of boiling water hissing sent James darting to the kitchen. “And I can’t say a word to her. Little princess, just like his mother calls her. What am I supposed to do?”
“Want to watch cartoons?” Emily forced calm into her voice as she turned to Lily.
The girl nodded, and Emily flicked the TV on with relief. Lily and Thomas sat side by side on the sofa.
“Your mother’s at it again, isn’t she? Trying to ruin what we have? She’s obsessed with getting you back with your ex. People told me how she screamed when Thomas was born—that Lily was her only real grandchild. This is a test, isn’t it? To see how I’d treat your daughter?” she hissed in the kitchen.
“She’s really unwell,” James defended.
“And how is a ten-year-old a burden? She could’ve called an ambulance herself. At her age, I could cook an omelette.”
“Enough!” James slammed a spoon down. “Lily, come eat!”
“Daddy, bring it here,” Lily called back smoothly.
“‘Daddy,'” Emily mocked under her breath, rolling her eyes. “Go on, then.” She left the kitchen, avoiding Lily’s gaze as she folded the ironing board, leaving James to handle his daughter.
He eventually led Lily to the kitchen. Emily bit back her frustration, sitting stiffly beside Thomas. He nestled into her, sensing her tension. “Just endure it,” she told herself. “He understands. He sees I don’t like her. But this isn’t right.” She forced a smile at Thomas.
Irritation simmered inside her. The unfairness of it all gnawed at her. From the kitchen, James’s murmurs to Lily drifted out. She and Thomas sat forgotten. “Careful. She’ll tell his mother everything, and she’ll whisper in his ear again—how he never should’ve divorced, how I ruined their perfect family…”
“Mum… when are we going sledging?” Thomas’s voice pulled her back.
“I don’t know now. We have a guest.” She stroked his hair.
Footsteps approached—Lily, chewing as she walked. The kitchen tap ran. “He’s washing her plate? Never once did that for me or Thomas. Just left them in the sink. Well, well. Guilty conscience,” she thought bitterly.
“Ready to go sledging?” James asked cheerfully, entering the room.
“Yes. But we only have one sled.” Emily kept her eyes fixed on the mindless cartoon.
“We’ll take the toboggan too. Take turns, right, mate?” The last words were clearly for Lily.
“Thomas, go to the loo and get dressed.” Emily sighed, standing.
She grabbed her coat and disappeared into Thomas’s room to change.
As they walked to the hill, Emily tried convincing herself to be kind. “She’s just a child. Not her fault nobody wants her—not even her own mother. She could’ve taken Lily to Spain. And Thomas isn’t to blame. Neither am I. My mum warned me his ex would never let us be. Too late for regrets now.”
At the hill, Lily immediately claimed the sled. Emily set Thomas on the toboggan, and he squealed as he slid down after her. Lily, stronger and faster, was already climbing back up. Emily’s heart sank as five-year-old Thomas struggled with the toboggan. Lily reached the top and plopped back onto the sled. Emily shot James a withering look. He avoided her gaze, pushing the sled down. As Thomas trudged up, Lily whizzed past him again. He stopped, watching her go.
“Hurry up! Your turn next!” Emily encouraged.
“You can use the toboggan after,” she told Lily, already seated on the sled again.
James stood frozen before nudging Lily down once more.
“What about me?” Thomas asked quietly, looking to Emily for reassurance. He knew—his dad belonged to Lily now.
“Tomorrow, just us. You can have the sled all to yourself. Okay?” She forced a smile.
As he prepared to slide down, she leaned in and whispered, “Wait for me at the bottom.”
“Where are you going?” James called as she headed for the steps.
“I’m cold. You carry on.” She hurried down, careful not to slip.
After lunch, she put Thomas down for a nap.
“Keep the volume low, alright? You’ll wake him.” Emily adjusted the TV before turning to James. “I’m popping to the shop for spaghetti and milk.”
Returning forty minutes later, she nearly collided with James in the hallway—coatless, frantic.
“Where were you? What’s wrong?” Her pulse spiked, a cold sweat prickling her skin.
“Thomas is gone.”
“Gone?” She bolted inside.
“Work called… I was on the phone in the kitchen, then saw the door open—”
“Thomas!” She burst into his room.
The bed was empty.
“What did you do?!” Emily grabbed Lily by the shoulders, shaking her.
The blaring TV drowned out any reply. Lily’s mouth twisted, on the verge of tears—but they never fell.
Emily let go, silencing the TV before turning back.
“Talk!” she demanded through gritted teeth.
Lily stayed silent, eyes darting to James for rescue. Emily ran outside, shouting Thomas’s name. The empty street echoed back. Defeated, she returned to the building. “Did he go to a neighbour’
