At the edge of autumn, as her school years drew to a close, Emily finally made up her mind about university—though she had wavered over what to do with her life, she suddenly knew she would dedicate herself to medicine. She had done well in school, living comfortably with her parents, sheltered and cared for. She had everything: loving parents, beautiful clothes, seaside holidays, gifts.
Emily’s father worked in the city council, holding a high position, and denied neither his wife nor daughter anything. Emily was dressed like a doll, and her father was certain of her bright, secure future. Her mother stayed at home, a housewife.
But fate has a cruel way of twisting things…
“Mum, I’m off!” Emily called through a mouthful of breakfast before darting out the door, late for school, sprinting full tilt. *Why did I stay up staring at my phone until three?* she thought, barely dragging herself out of bed that morning. Still, she made it just before the bell, stumbling breathlessly into class.
“Who was chasing you?” her friend asked as Emily flopped into the seat beside her.
“No one—slept in again,” she muttered as the bell rang, the girls exchanging frustrated glances.
After third period, the form tutor approached Emily, avoiding her gaze.
“You need to go home. Something’s happened… to your father.”
“What? What happened?” she gasped, snatching her things and bolting for home.
Outside the building, neighbours, paramedics, and police had gathered. Emily entered the flat flanked by two officers. Her mother sat rocking back and forth, face darkened by grief, past tears. Her father lay on the sofa.
“His heart, love. His heart gave out,” the neighbour whispered into her ear.
Emily rushed to her mother, and they clung to each other, sobbing. The funeral passed in a blur—neighbours came, offering support. Her mother turned to stone, silent, staring through her as if into nothingness.
“Mum, please say something,” Emily begged, but her mother just gazed emptily.
Then one morning, as Emily finished her tea and toast alone, her mother emerged from her room and murmured, “He’s calling me, love. Your dad is.” She glanced around—then collapsed.
Emily shook her, frantic. “Mum—Mum!” Then she ran for the neighbour.
Mrs. Thompson called an ambulance at once. Her mother lay motionless as Emily wept into the woman’s shoulder: “She’ll be all right, love. The doctor’s on the way—they said they’d hurry.”
The ambulance arrived swiftly, the medics kneeling beside her. The doctor sighed, glancing between them. “I’m sorry… there’s nothing we can do. She’s gone.”
Emily barely remembered coming back to herself. Mrs. Thompson took charge—there were no other relatives. Her mother had been an orphan; her father, an only child. Teachers and classmates helped. Slowly, Emily steadied, and Mrs. Thompson became her guardian—breakfasts, school pick-ups, dinners at her place.
Exams passed. Graduation came and went. Emily had no choice but to reshape her life. University was out of the question—she needed to survive. The money her parents left wouldn’t last forever.
“Thank you, Auntie Thompson. You got me that shop job—I’ll manage now,” Emily said.
“That’s right, love. Life’s got to start somewhere. You can study later—just keep your wits about you.”
Emily worked hard, taking extra shifts—mopping floors, unloading lighter boxes. It was hard to believe this slender, pretty girl had once lived so differently.
One evening, a man and woman stopped her outside the building.
“Emily?” the woman asked.
“Yes—who are you?”
“We’d like to talk about your future. Maybe invite us up?”
“I don’t even know you.”
“I’m Anna, this is Paul,” she nodded at the man. “Don’t worry—we just need a chat. Not out here.”
Inside, they made their offer: sell the flat. “Four rooms for one? Too much. And the bills—”
Emily refused. “It’s all I have left of them.”
The pair exchanged glances. “Think it over,” they said before leaving.
Emily told Mrs. Thompson. “Don’t you dare deal with them! Next time, call me.”
Anna rang repeatedly. “How’d they get my number?” Emily wondered.
Then they ambushed her again—Anna and a new man.
“We’ve had enough,” Paul snapped. “Agree, or you’ll lose it all.”
Emily spotted Mrs. Thompson watching from the window and nodded. The woman marched out.
“Off with you! Emily’s not selling.”
Inside, Mrs. Thompson called her son, Anthony—a policeman. He arrived swiftly, taking Emily’s statement.
“Ring me if they come back.”
Days later, Anna and Paul cornered Emily at work.
“We’re done playing nice,” Paul growled as Emily discreetly dialled Anthony.
He heard enough—soon, he and two officers burst in, hauling the pair away.
“No more fear,” Anthony told her later. “They’re part of a scam—you weren’t their first.”
Time passed. Autumn waned, leaves spiralling down. Emily knew her customers well—especially elderly Mr. Bennett, who came in frail one day, leaning on his stick.
“You look ill,” she said gently.
“Feel worse,” he muttered before collapsing.
Emily grabbed his phone, finding “Son, Daniel.”
“Hello?” a man answered.
“It’s Emily—from the shop. Your father’s collapsed. The ambulance is taking him to St. Mary’s.”
Daniel arrived later, thanking her. Next day, he returned with flowers.
“You saved him.”
Blushing, Emily demurred.
As Mr. Bennett recovered, Daniel visited daily—until, one evening, he confessed his love.
“I’m fifteen years older, but you’re wiser than your years. I’ve been divorced four years—never thought I’d remarry. But with you…”
Emily agreed. Daniel moved in, caring for his father while running his business remotely.
Emily enrolled in law school—her husband’s suggestion. Soon, their son, Oliver, was born.
Now they live in her flat. And Mrs. Thompson? She dotes on the baby, overjoyed for them.
