“Daddy Owes Me”
A crowd of students burst out of the university doors, laughing and shouting. One girl marched ahead with purpose.
“Vicky, where are you off to?” called out Oliver.
“Home. Why?” She paused, turning slightly.
“Aren’t you joining us at the café?”
“Not in the mood.” She shrugged and turned away.
“Hold up!” Oliver jogged after her. “Need company?”
“No thanks. I’m a big girl, I can manage the Tube. Go on, they’re waiting.” She nodded toward the group.
“Is this about Jake? Come on, don’t let him get to you,” Oliver pressed.
“Drop it. See you tomorrow.” Vicky walked off before he could argue.
Oliver lingered until the others caught up. “She’s gone? Don’t take it to heart. We’ll cheer you up at Nando’s. Let’s go.” A mate clapped him on the shoulder.
Vicky hurried to the bus stop, cursing Oliver for making her late. The bus was about to leave. She barely slipped through the closing doors, swiped her Oyster card, and slumped into a seat. A long ride ahead.
She’d planned to join them—she was starving—but then she’d have to watch Lily draping herself over Jake, smirking in her direction. Unbearable.
What did Lily even have that she didn’t? A brainless blonde, obsessed with landing a ring. A friend had whispered in class that Lily had been chasing Jake for ages, sneaking out of his dorm room. Guess she’d finally worn him down.
“Whatever.” Vicky rolled her eyes, though her throat tightened. She really liked Jake. Thought it was serious. But she wasn’t ready to sleep with him. Cue Lily swooping in. Fine. Oliver wasn’t bad—maybe she’d date him just to spite Jake.
Time would heal this. Now she regretted refusing Oliver’s offer—his chatter would’ve drowned out the ache.
The city blurred past the bus window. She’d been over the moon getting into uni, yet now she’d gladly drop out to avoid Jake and Lily. No, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
At the next stop, a few passengers boarded. Vicky froze—her dad was among them. Why wasn’t he driving? Home this early? She nearly called out, but then he leaned toward a girl, murmuring. The girl nodded, her long blonde hair shifting. When she turned, Vicky glimpsed her profile. No way—she couldn’t be much older than Vicky herself.
Dad only had eyes for his companion, oblivious to Vicky’s stunned stare.
Colleague? Stranger? No, strangers didn’t get that soft look. He always called Vicky ‘just a kid,’ yet here he was, cozy with a girl her age. What about Mum? She’d thought their family was solid, full of love. Now what?
Two stops later, Dad and the girl exited. Vicky elbowed her way out just before the doors hissed shut. Adjusting her bag, she spotted them and followed. If Dad bothered to glance back, he’d see her. He didn’t.
They turned into a side street, stopping at a block of flats. Vicky ducked behind a tree. Dad hugged the girl tightly before she dashed inside, waving from the doorway. After a moment, he trudged back toward the bus stop. Still clueless, he passed Vicky’s hiding spot.
At the stop, she stopped hiding. Minutes crawled by before he finally noticed her.
“Vicky? What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for the bus. You? Shouldn’t you be at work? Where’s the car?”
“Had a meeting nearby.”
“Ohhh.” She nodded knowingly. “I was visiting a friend. She’s ill—dropped off lecture notes. Bus is here. You coming?”
“Need to head back to work. You go on.” He waved her off.
The ride home was a blur of questions. Was Dad cheating? With a girl young enough to be his daughter? Disgusting. Mum didn’t deserve this. Should she tell her?
At home, the fridge offered no comfort. The click of the front door announced Mum’s return.
“Why the long face?”
“You’re home early?” Vicky deflected.
“Headache. Probably coming down with something.” Mum sighed. “There’s cottage pie in the fridge. I’m going to lie down.”
Vicky couldn’t focus on studying. Dad and that girl haunted her. Mum had been worn out lately, always complaining of headaches. Did she suspect?
When Dad returned, Vicky intercepted him. “Mum’s resting. Hungry? I’ll heat dinner.”
“Cheers.” He glanced at the closed bedroom door before following her to the kitchen.
She served reheated cottage pie.
“Aren’t you eating?” Dad asked.
“Already did.” The lie tasted bitter.
She watched him eat heartily, as if nothing were wrong.
“Dad… I saw you today. With that girl. Who is she?”
He choked on his food.
“You followed me?”
“Coincidence. Is she your mistress? She looked my age.”
He set his fork down. “What? How could you think that?”
“Then who is she? Why were you walking her home?”
Dad studied her, then shut the kitchen door firmly.
He started with the old story—how he’d met Mum, fallen instantly. Vicky knew it by heart.
“Before her, there was someone. Not serious. She wouldn’t leave me alone—always ‘coincidentally’ appearing where I was. One New Year’s Eve, we drank too much. Woke up in bed together, fully dressed. I swore nothing happened. But weeks later, I found her in my neighbourhood and snapped—told her to stop following me. She cried, then disappeared. I forgot about her… until we bumped into each other years later. She was pregnant. I congratulated her, said I was married… acted a right fool.”
His voice dropped. “She laughed and said I wasn’t the father. I believed her because it was easier. Two years ago, she tracked me down. Told me I had a daughter. Said she had cancer, not long left. Looked it, too. Gave me a lock of the girl’s hair for a DNA test.”
“Did you do it?”
“Guess the result?” He rubbed his face. “She died weeks later. The girl lives with her aunt—I send money. Never asked for custody.”
Vicky was furious, yet pity twisted inside her.
“Mum should know. She’ll understand—it happened before you met!”
“You think that excuses me?”
Their conversation halted as Mum shuffled in.
“What’s all this whispering?”
“Nothing,” Vicky said brightly, catching Dad’s pleading look. “Just hinting about birthday presents.”
“Your birthday’s months away,” Mum said suspiciously.
“Gives him time to save up,” Dad joked weakly.
The days dragged. Curiosity gnawed at Vicky until she decided to meet the girl. They’d be the same age—probably at uni too. She remembered the route.
The block of flats loomed ahead. Vicky didn’t hide—why should she?
“You’re Vicky, aren’t you?”
She spun around. The girl stood there—pale, mousy-haired, nothing like Vicky’s own striking green-eyed looks.
“Dad didn’t even tell you my name?” The girl smirked. “I’m Faye. After my gran.”
“Unusual name,” Vicky muttered.
“What do you want?”
“Dad loves Mum. Stay away from our family.”
Faye laughed coldly. “Or what? Daddy owes me. A lifetime of nothing—pretending I didn’t exist. Mum worked herself sick raising me alone. He’ll pay.”
Vicky bristled. “You’re just after money.”
“Spot on. Couldn’t care less about him.” Faye turned away. “Your family’s safe—if his wallet stays open.”
That evening, Vicky ‘needed batteries’ from the shop, dragging Dad along.
“Dad… I met her. Faye. She’s vile. Says she only wants money.”
He sighed. “I’ll keep sending it. I owe her that.”
“And Mum?”
“She’ll understand. I’m done hiding.”
That night, her parents talked for hours. Vicky fell asleep before they finished.
Next morning, she found them laughing in the kitchen like newlyweds.
“Vicky! Pancakes for breakfast—join us before I devour them all,” Dad said, grinning.
For the first time since spotting him with Faye, Vicky felt peace.
At uni, Jake slid into the seat beside her.
“Hey.”
She ignored him.
“Vicky, I’m sorry. Nothing happened with Lily, no matter how hard she tried. You walked away so coolly—no drama. I like that. I like you.” He grinned. “Oliver’s got a thing for you, but you didn’t use him to get back at me. Means I don’tAs Vicky looked at Jake, the weight of the past week lifting, she realized that sometimes life’s messiest moments lead exactly where you’re meant to be.