When Emily opened the door to her ex-husband, she nearly dropped her teathere he stood, grinning like a Cheshire cat, with a blonde in glossy stilettos clinging to his arm.
“Mum, why does Auntie Charlotte have such pretty shoes, and you dont?” asked six-year-old Lily, pressing her nose against the window as she peered at their neighbours impeccable footwear.
Emily set down her now-lukewarm mug and sighed. Lily was in her favourite pink pyjamas, the ones with the unicorns, and her curiosity was as endless as the British drizzle.
“Whats wrong with my shoes, then?” Emily smiled, though something twisted in her chest.
“Theyre not *ugly*,” Lily clarified, ever the diplomat. “Just a bit old. Auntie Charlottes are shiny, with proper heels. You always wear trainers.”
Emily joined her at the window. Sure enough, Charlotte was strutting down the pavement in patent leather heels, a tailored coat, and a handbag that probably cost more than Emilys monthly grocery bill. Divorced last year and clearly thrivingthe sort of woman who made “starting over” look like a spa day.
“Lily, love, pretty shoes dont make the person,” Emily said softly.
“But they help,” Lily countered. “Dad used to buy you nice things, didnt he?”
Emily stiffened. James had left six months ago, claiming he “wasnt happy anymore.” The divorce papers were still somewhere in a solicitors office, but the marriage had been over the second he walked out.
“Dad bought a lot of things,” she said carefully. “But were doing things differently now.”
“Whens Dad coming home?”
Lily asked this every day, and every day, Emily scrambled for an answer. James saw her once a weektook her for ice cream, brought her back by bedtime. Lily always hoped *this* time, hed stay.
“I dont know, sweetheart. Maybe hell ring today.”
As if summoned, her phone buzzedJamess name flashing on the screen.
“Hello?” she said, forcing calm.
“Hi. Hows Lily?”
“Fine. Asking about you, as usual.”
“Right. Listen, I need to talk. Properly.”
His tone was all business, the way he sounded before mentioning solicitors or paperwork. Emilys stomach knotted.
“About what?”
“Not over the phone. Im coming round. Now.”
Before she could protest, he hung up. Lily was still by the window, tracing raindrops with her finger.
“Lily, Dads popping by.”
Her face lit up like Christmas morning. “Really? Is he staying for tea?”
“Not sure, love. He just wants a chat.”
Lily bolted to her room to change into her “special occasion” dressa frothy blue thing shed outgrown but refused to part with. Emily stayed in the kitchen, smoothing her jumper and running a hand through her hair. Not for *him*, obviously. Just for herself.
Half an hour later, the doorbell chimed. Lily barrelled into the hallway, twirling in her dress. “Dads here!”
Emily opened the door. James stood there in a suit that screamed “expensive,” drenched in cologne she didnt recognise. And beside him*her*. A blonde, mid-twenties, in a coat that probably had its own postcode and *those* shoes Lily had admired.
“Hi,” James said, as if bringing his new girlfriend to his ex-wifes doorstep was perfectly normal.
Emilys face burned. Lily peeked around her, blinking at the stranger.
“Dad, whos that?”
“Lily, this is Sophie,” James said, ruffling her hair. “My, erm girlfriend.”
Sophie offered a smile so strained it couldve snapped. “Hello, Lily! Your dad talks about you all the time.”
“Can we come in?” James asked. “We need to talk.”
Emily stepped aside, her pride the only thing stopping her from slamming the door. Sophies gaze flicked over the flatthe second-hand sofa, the peeling wallpaper, Lilys crayon drawings taped to the fridge.
“Lets sit,” Emily said tightly.
They settled at the table. Lily wedged herself beside James, eyeing Sophie like a suspicious cat.
“Whats this about?” Emily asked.
James cleared his throat. “Sophie and I are serious. Were moving in together.”
“Lovely,” Emily said flatly. “Why tell me?”
“Because we want Lily to live with us.”
The room tilted. Lily frowned. “Live *where*, Dad?”
“With us, poppet. Big house, garden, your own room. Youll love it.”
“What about Mum?”
James and Sophie exchanged a glance. Sophie leaned in, saccharine-sweet. “Mum will stay here. Ill be like your new mum.”
Lilys nose scrunched. “I *have* a mum. I dont want another one.”
“Lily, dont be difficult,” James said gently. “You always said you missed us living together. Now we can.”
“Not without Mum.”
Emily clenched her fists under the table. “James, a word. Alone.”
“No secrets,” he said breezily. “Sophies family now.”
“*Family?*” Emilys laugh was sharp. “You swan off with *her*, and now you want to rip Lily away like shes aa *handbag*?”
Sophie cut in, voice syrupy. “No ones *ripping* anyone. But lets be honestshed have a better life with James. We can afford *proper* things.”
“Unlike me, you mean?”
Sophies smile didnt reach her eyes as she glanced around. “Well. Its a bit cramped, isnt it? And Lily should see what a *real* family looks like.”
Emily stood so fast her chair screeched. “Lily, go to your room.”
“But”
“*Now.*”
Once Lily was gone, Emily whirled on James. “Have you lost your *mind*? You bring your *fling* here and demand our daughter?”
“Emily, be reasonable,” James said, palms up. “Look at the facts. Youre working two jobs, scraping by. We can give her piano lessons, holidays, *stability*.”
Sophie nodded. “And she needs a father figure. Male influence.”
“*Influence*?” Emily choked. “You left us for a woman half your age, and now youre lecturing me on parenting?”
“Oy, enough,” James snapped. “We just grew apart. It happens.”
“*You* happened. And now youre playing happy families while I”
Sophie bristled. “I wont be spoken to like this! James and I love each other. And Ill be a *brilliant* mum to Lily.”
Emily stepped closer, voice low. “Do you know she hates custard but loves pancakes? That shes terrified of thunder and needs a nightlight? That shes allergic to strawberries? Do you know how to calm her when shes hysterical?”
Sophie faltered. “IIll learn.”
“Exactly. *I* know. Because Im her *mother*. I held her when she cried, taught her to read, nursed her through fevers. And you think you can waltz in and *replace* me?”
James sighed. “No ones replacing you. But the courts favour the parent who can provide *more*.”
“Then well let the courts decide.”
Jamess jaw tightened. “Really? Youve got money for a solicitor?”
Emilys throat burned. He was rightJames had savings, connections. She had overtime and exhaustion.
“Fine,” he said coldly. “But the flats in my name. If you fight me, Ill have you out. *Well* move in here.”
Emily recoiled. “*What*?”
“You heard me. Sophie can redecorate Lilys room properly.”
Sophie beamed. “Ill get her a *proper* desk. New bedding.”
“I dont *want* new bedding!” Lily shouted from the hallway. She barrelled in, tears streaking her cheeks. “I want my room! My *mum*!”
James stood. “Enough. Youre coming with us Sunday. End of.”
Lily clung to Emily. “No!”
Sophie checked her watch. “James, weve got that dinner reservation.”
“Right. Lily, Sunday.” He kissed her head. “Youll love the house.”
“*Hate it*,” Lily muttered.
They left, the door clicking shut like a verdict. Emily sank onto the sofa, clutching Lily, who sobbed into her jumper.
“Mum, will Dad really take me?”
“I wont let him.”
“But if he *does*?”
Emily pressed her lips to Lily
