**»Off to Dad’s Place»**
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” yelled Emily, shoving clothes into her backpack. “I’ve had enough! Nothing but rules, rules, rules!”
“Sweetheart, just calm down,” Sarah tried to grab her daughter’s hand. “Let’s talk this through properly.”
“I don’t *want* to talk!” The seventeen-year-old wrenched free and kept stuffing jeans and T-shirts into her bag. “Dad lets me do anything, and here I can’t even stay out past eleven!”
“*Eleven?* Emily, you’re seventeen, not twenty-five! And who exactly are you planning to stay out with?”
“Friends! Normal parents let their kids go out, but you—you don’t even understand what life’s about!”
Sarah felt a lump rise in her throat. Well, there it was. Eight years raising Emily alone after the divorce from Daniel. Eight years of sacrifices—her career, her love life, her own wants. And now? She was the bad mum who “didn’t get it.”
“Emily, stop.” Sarah’s voice was firm. “Explain this to me properly. Why the sudden decision to move in with your dad?”
Emily spun around. Her eyes were red but burning with that familiar stubborn glint—the exact same look Daniel had when he’d made up his mind about something.
“Because living here is impossible! You track my every move! Calling me every half hour when I’m with mates! Making me report back on where I’ve been and who with!”
“I worry about you!”
“Dad doesn’t, and *he’s* fine! He’s got his own life and doesn’t meddle in mine!”
Sarah sank onto the sofa. That stung more than any complaint.
“Emily, do you remember *why* Dad doesn’t worry? Because he only sees you once a month on weekends. He doesn’t know you skipped maths last Thursday. He’s clueless about your falling-out with Izzy from Year 12. And it wasn’t *him* up all night when you had tonsillitis.”
“At least he doesn’t lecture me daily!” Emily shot back. “Or ban me from seeing Jake!”
Ah. There it was. Jake Bennet—her classmate, a year older. Smoked behind the bike sheds, skipped lessons, parents who never showed for parents’ evening.
“Love, I’ve told you. That boy—”
“He’s *not* a boy! And he’s lovely; you just don’t know him!”
“I know he smokes by the school gates and mouths teachers off.”
“So what? That’s his business! At least he doesn’t lie or pretend to be perfect!”
Emily zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“I’ve made up my mind. Dad’s fine with me moving in.”
“When did you even *speak* to him?” Sarah’s voice wavered.
“Called him yesterday. Know what he said? That I’m old enough to decide where I live.”
Of course he did. Daniel always had a way with words—especially when they excused him from responsibility.
“What about school?” Sarah grasped for arguments. “There’s only four months left. You’ll switch *now*?”
“Dad says there’s decent schools near him. Or maybe I’ll just do homeschool.”
“Emily, listen to yourself. Homeschool isn’t a holiday—it’s *more* discipline, not less.”
“I’ll be disciplined at Dad’s,” she muttered. “I’m just sick of it here.”
Sarah walked to the window. Their garden looked onto the playground where Emily had spent her childhood—swings, slide, sandpit. How many afternoons had they spent there together?
“Mum, don’t turn away,” Emily’s voice softened. “I don’t want to fight.”
Sarah turned. There stood Emily, her oversized backpack making her look suddenly small again—just like when she was little.
“Then don’t go,” Sarah said quietly. “We can compromise. I’ll ease up on some rules.”
“…Like what?”
“You can stay out till ten on weekends. And I’ll stop calling every hour.”
“What about seeing Jake?”
Sarah hesitated. That was the real trouble. She’d seen how smitten Emily was, and she worried. At seventeen, emotions felt like the whole world, and consequences? Unthinkable.
“Bring him round,” Sarah said finally. “Let me meet him properly. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”
“Really?” Emily’s eyes lit up.
“Really. But only if you stay.”
Emily dropped her bag with a thud.
“Fine. But if you’re rude to him, I *am* leaving.”
“Deal.”
Sarah hugged her, and for once, Emily didn’t pull away. Her heart raced—so grown-up, yet still so young.
Later, over tea and biscuits (like the old days), Emily stirred her cup thoughtfully.
“Mum… why did you and Dad split?”
The question caught Sarah off guard. Emily had been tiny when it happened—she’d never asked for details.
“It’s complicated,” Sarah said carefully.
“Try me. I’m *‘so grown up,’* remember?”
Sarah studied her. Seventeen. The age she’d been when she met Daniel.
“We wanted different things,” she began. “Dad loved freedom; I wanted stability. He dreamed of travelling; I craved a home. When you came along, those differences… well, they mattered more.”
“So it was *my* fault?” Emily’s voice wavered.
“No! *Never.* You were the one thing we agreed on. We just… couldn’t agree on the rest.”
“…Did Dad want the divorce?”
Sarah paused. How to explain that Daniel had bailed when parenting got hard? That sleepless nights, budgeting, and planning bored him?
“Dad thought it was best,” she said diplomatically.
“And you?”
“I wanted to make it work. But it takes two.”
Emily nodded. “Mum… d’you ever regret having me?”
Sarah nearly spilled her tea. “*What?* You’re the best thing in my life!”
“But I stopped you remarrying. Or having a career.”
“Who told you that?”
“No one. I just… *know.* Auntie Becky’s always on about you ‘needing a man.’”
Sarah sighed. Her sister *was* relentless with blind-date setups.
“Love, I didn’t remarry because I never met the right person. And my career? Some things matter more.”
“Like what?”
“*You.* Your happiness. Your future.”
After a pause, Emily mumbled, “If I *had* left… would you’ve got a boyfriend?”
Sarah snorted. “‘Got a boyfriend’? Am I adopting a puppy?”
“You *know* what I mean!”
“Honestly? I’d have to learn to live without you first.”
“…Would you’ve missed me?”
“Every second.”
Emily hugged her tight. “Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know, darling.”
—
Next evening, Jake arrived. Sarah braced for a hoodie-clad troublemaker. Instead: a lanky teen with polite handshakes and—surprise—*actual* conversation.
“You’re applying to uni?” Sarah blinked as he discussed his journalism hopes over shepherd’s pie.
“Yeah. I like writing.”
“And the smoking?” she asked bluntly.
“Trying to quit,” he admitted. “Know it’s rubbish. Just… hard.”
Later, alone with Emily:
“He’s… not what I expected.”
“So I can see him?” Emily bounced.
“*Conditionally.* Home by ten. No skipping school.”
“*Deal!*”
—
A week later, Daniel rang.
“So, Em’s staying? Just wondered—got a flat reno, not much space…”
Of course. Always an excuse.
“You agreed without even *asking* why she wanted to leave?” Sarah said coldly.
“Hey, it worked out, yeah? No harm done.”
*No thanks to you,* she thought, hanging up.
When she told Emily, her daughter frowned.
“He *really* said he’d no clue what to do with me?”
“He did.”
“…Thought he *wanted* me there.”
Sarah hugged her. “He loves you, in his way. But responsibility? That’s *my* job.”
Emily nestled close. “Mum… promise we’ll never live apart?”
“You’ll grow up, move out—”
“Not *properly* apart. Just… always close.”
Sarah smiled. “Even if we’re on different continents, we’re close. Love doesn’t measure in miles.”
“How d’you know?”
“Because when you threatened to leave? Three Tube stops felt like another galaxy.”
Emily giggled. “Sorry about that day. I was a pratAs the kettle whistled in the background, Sarah realised that between burnt toast, teenage dramas, and the occasional row, they’d built something far more solid than a picture-perfect family—they’d built a home. .