Life had a way of changing plans.
Emily grew up in a modest householdher parents were hardworking engineers, scraping by in their cramped flat on the outskirts of London. Money was always tight. She envied the girls at school with their trendy clothes while she wore the same uniform and a handful of hand-me-down dresses.
So when she finished school and got into university, she made herself a promise:
*My home will be different. My life will be different.*
And she made it happen. Not right away, of course. At first, she taught English and literature in a secondary school, then moved to the local education authority. But then an old classmate offered her a job at a foreign-invested firm.
«Come on, Em, youve got nothing to lose,» her friend said, mentioning a salary that nearly made Emilys jaw drop. «Great team, decent payyoure sharp, youll fit right in.»
«Thanks, love,» Emily smiled. «Moneys money, isnt it?»
By then, she was married to William, a dental technician, and they had a four-year-old son, Oliver. They were living with Williams parentscrowded, dependent. The new job changed everything. The pay was excellent, soon they bought a spacious flat on a mortgage, then a fancy car. Management noticed her quicklybonuses, promotions. Before long, she was deputy director.
Success changed her. She grew a bit smug, especially around Williams family. They lived so much smaller than his sister, Sophie.
«Em, come on, were going to be late,» William urged as they got ready for Sophies birthday. «Justbe nice, yeah? Its her day.»
Emily nodded. She *meant* to be pleasant. William was tenseshe always took ages getting ready. But she draped on her makeup with care, not exactly thrilled about spending the evening with Sophie and her husband, Mark.
*Everything about them is so ordinary,* she thought, glancing in the mirror. *Basic finger food, cheap wine, not even decent china. Three kids, that little greengrocers shopmust barely scrape by.*
Finally done, she swept out in a designer dress, polished and poised. William and Oliver jumped up from the sofa.
«About time.»
The walk-up to the fifth floor of their council flat, the cramped hallway, the crowdit all soured Emilys mood. The place was packed, kids shrieking. Sophie was in faded jeans and a plaid shirt.
*Couldnt even dress up for her own party.*
She handed Sophie an expensive perfume.
«Thanks, Em,» Sophie beamed. «You always know what to pick.»
Emily scanned the roompeeling wallpaper, battered furniture. All so outdated.
Mark had never liked her either, always smirking like he thought she was full of herself. Maybe he was jealous. Sophie never bothered with manicures, after all.
«So, Em,» he said now, that same smirk. «Whens the big promotion to director?»
«Soon enough,» she forced a smile. «Lot of people here.»
«Yeah, folks love Sophie.» He shot his wife a fond look.
The evening passed without incident. Back home, Emily and William lounged on their plush sofa, sipping Spanish wine.
«Went alright, didnt it?» William said.
«Tolerable,» she swirled her glass. «You know I dont like them. They dont like me. Lets drop it.»
William sighed but let it go.
The next day, she had a salon appointment.
«Olivers with you tomorrow,» she said. «Take him out for lunchfridge is nearly empty. Youll manage.»
«Like weve got a choice,» William muttered. «Couldve asked *before* booking.»
Then came the newsrestructuring at the firm. The director was leaving. Everyone assumed Emily would take his place.
«Em, its got to be you,» a colleague said over coffee.
«No ones said anything.»
Then the call came. The CEO summoned her. She strode down the hall, certain this was ither moment.
«Sit down, Emily,» he began, polite, then shifted. «Look, youre brilliantyou know that. But theres an issue. The directors team is being let go. You included. I tried to stop it, but its out of my hands. Its not performancejust cuts.»
She left in a daze. Walked straight out, drove home. Oliver was still at school, William at work. She collapsed on the sofa and cried.
*A generous severance? What good is that? I gave them everythinglate nights, loyalty. And now?*
William came home, tried to reassure her. «Youll find something else.»
«With *this* salary? Be realistic.»
«Youll adjust. Weve got savings. Itll work out.»
She clung to him. «Youre the best, Will. But that doesnt fix this.»
She sent out CVs, scoured job sites. A month passednothing. The silence gnawed at her.
«Will, we need to cut back,» she said one evening. «No more eating out. Ill cookthough God knows Im rubbish at it.»
He grinned. «Ive always preferred home cooking. Youll learn.»
Finally, a call. An interview. The man across the desk was crisp in a tailored suit.
«Impressive client experience,» he noted.
«Ive climbed every rung in my last company.»
«Almost. Youve got one childno plans for more?»
She stiffened. «Is that relevant?»
«Just assessing fit. Salary expectations?»
She named her old figure. His eyebrows shot up.
«Thats optimistic. We offer half that, bonuses included. Frankly, good luck finding that rate now.»
She left furious.
January and February were bitter. They sold the Mercedesheartbreaking, but necessary.
«Cheaper car for now,» William said, ruffling her hair. «Well get through this.»
Then Sophie called.
«Em, can I come over? Need to talk.»
They sat at the kitchen table.
«Come work at the shop. Marks starting a tiling business. I cant run it alonestock, shelves, orders. Its too much. I trust you.»
Emily stared.
«You want me to haul potatoes?»
«Ill handle the runs at first. Youll get used to it.»
She didnt snapbut didnt agree either. Later, she unloaded on William.
«How *dare* she? Me, a shopgirl? Its humiliating!»
William snapped. «Enough. Youre miserable at home, job huntings going nowhere, and youre too proud to take help. Sophies offering honestly. Get over yourself.»
Shed never seen him so angry.
Two days of silence. Then, when he came home, she met him at the door.
«Ill do it. I start tomorrow.»
He kissed her forehead. «Knew youd come round.»
The first month was hell. Her hands roughened, her nails chipped. Rude customers tested her patience. But by month three, shed found her rhythm.
Then Sophie broke her leg. Emily took overdriving the van, hauling stock, managing everything. They shut briefly, revamped the shop. She even invested savings.
She drafted a business plan, brainstormed marketing. Soon, they were turning a profit.
One day, Emily caught her reflectionjeans, plaid shirt, trainers. No Mercedes, fewer salon trips. But she was smiling.
Life had changed. And maybejust maybetheyd open a second shop.
