Chapter 2: No way back

The University's gate slammed shut behind them with a finality that echoed through Emilia’s chest. Alina stood beside her in stunned silence, arms folded tightly across her chest, her jaw clenched.

“I can’t believe this,” Alina muttered. “I told Mom she was supposed to pay it last week. Last week, Emilia!”

Emilia adjusted her backpack, the strap frayed and digging into her shoulder. “Yeah, well... she didn’t.”

They’d been pulled out of class right before the lunch bell. The office secretary, who had once liked them, hadn’t even made eye contact when she handed them the suspension slips—due to unpaid fees for the second semester. Two weeks overdue. No payment, no school. That was it.

It was a long walk home from school, and every step seemed to stretch their silence tighter. The sun was high, but it didn’t warm the weight on Emilia’s back or the burning lump forming in her throat.

“I swear,” Alina said again, fuming, “she always acts like she has money for her stupid hair appointments and wine but can’t pay basic school fees? What does she even do all day?”

Emilia didn’t reply. She didn’t have to.

They both knew the answer.

---

The apartment door was half-open when they arrived. Emilia slowed as they stepped inside, the sour stench of alcohol hitting her immediately. Her heart dropped. She knew that smell too well.

From the living room came shouting.

“You think I don’t see what you do with the money?” Vanessa’s voice was sharp, like broken glass. “God knows where your salary goes, but it sure as hell isn’t this house!”

“I work all damn day!” their father shouted back. “You think that garbage job covers rent and your crap? I can barely keep the lights on!”

“You always have excuses!”

“And you always have wine in your hand! What the hell do you contribute, huh?”

The girls stood frozen in the hallway, backpacks still on, invisible as always.

Then came the crash—something heavy thrown against the wall. Emilia flinched.

Alina whispered, “Is he drunk again?”

“Yeah,” Emilia said softly. “Really drunk.”

Another curse, then Vanessa’s voice: “You’re a coward, Mark. You can’t provide for this family, and you know it.”

“And you’re a damn leech, Vanessa! I should’ve never—"

“We’re back,” Alina called out, cutting through the argument.

It went silent.

A beat passed before Vanessa’s heels clacked down the hallway, followed closely by Mark’s heavy steps. Their father’s shirt was wrinkled, partially unbuttoned, and his eyes bloodshot. Vanessa, despite the fight, looked composed—but her lip trembled slightly, betraying her fury.

“What are you doing home so early?” she demanded.

“We were pulled out of school,” Alina said, chin lifted. “They said the fees haven’t been paid.”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean pulled out?”

“I mean,” Emilia said, stepping forward, “they won’t let us come back until the balance is cleared.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark muttered, rubbing his face. “How much is it?”

“About seventy-five thousand,” Emilia answered. “Each.”

Vanessa scoffed. “Oh, great. As if we’re made of money.”

“Didn’t Dad give you the school money already?” Alina asked, glaring at her mother. “He said he gave it to you two weeks ago.”

Vanessa’s eyes flashed. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Well, did you pay it?” Alina pressed.

Mark looked between them, his voice slurred but rising. “I gave you everything I had that day. Everything. What the hell did you do with it, Vanessa?”

Vanessa's face turned red. “Don’t start with me! I needed to pay the gas bill! And the fridge was empty! Or would you rather your precious girls starve?”

“They’re our girls,” Mark barked.

“No, she isn't!” Vanessa snapped, pointing directly at Emilia.

The room went still

“Don’t act like you don’t play favorites,” Mark said coldly. “You’ve never treated Emilia like your own.”

“Because she’s not! I’ve been stuck raising a child that isn’t mine while you drink yourself into a coma every night and expect me to magically fix everything!”

“You knew what you were signing up for when we got married.”

“And I regret it every day.”

The words hit Emilia like a slap. Her body tensed, but she said nothing. This wasn’t new. She’d heard it all before—just not always so loud. Not always in front of Alina.

Tears welled in Alina’s eyes. “Can we just… please stop fighting? We just want to go back to school.”

Mark sank into the couch, head in his hands. “I can’t even afford to fix my damn car, and now this?”

Vanessa leaned on the armrest, shaking her head. “We’ll never get ahead. Not with her sucking us dry.”

Emilia blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” Vanessa hissed. “You're the reason we’re drowning. Everything was better before your mother died. Before I had to pick up the pieces.”

“She didn’t ask to die,” Emilia snapped, for once letting her voice rise.

Vanessa stepped forward, finger raised. “Don’t talk back to me. You don’t get to play the victim when all you’ve done is add to this household’s burden. Maybe if you weren’t here, we could actually afford Alina’s school fees.”

“That’s not fair,” Alina said, stepping in. “This isn’t her fault—”

“Enough!” Mark roared, standing up suddenly. “God, I can’t think with you both yelling.”

Vanessa turned on him. “Then maybe try doing more than thinking! Your daughter’s out of school. Both of them. And what do you do? Sit and drink.”

“She’s your daughter, too!”

“No, only one of them is.”

The room spiraled into shouting again. Emilia couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded like it was trying to escape her chest. It was all too loud. Too cruel. Too much.

“I’ll figure it out,” she said suddenly, loudly enough to stop them.

Everyone looked at her.

“I’ll find a way to pay for it. For mine. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

Vanessa snorted. “With what job, Emilia? You think you’re going to get hired anywhere looking like that? Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not promising,” Emilia said, voice steady. “I’m leaving. I’ll figure it out.”

Alina stared at her. “Emilia…”

But Emilia was already backing toward the door, her mind numb. If they didn’t want her here—fine. She didn’t want to stay, anyway.

Not in a house where love was rationed and blame was a currency traded freely.

Outside, the air was thick and still. She walked, fast and aimless, past cracked sidewalks and flickering streetlights. Her school backpack still clung to her shoulder like dead weight, but she didn’t care.

She had no plan. No money. No direction.

But she had will.

And in her bones, she felt it—something was about to change. Something had to.