The Nanny and His Daughter
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The rain tapped against the window like it knew all her secrets. Isla hugged her knees, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders like a curtain.
Isla(fl)
Another day, another fight
She muttered under her breath. Her father’s voice still echoed in her mind, sharp and cold.
fl dad
Stop dreaming, Isla. Life isn’t for fools.”
Her mother didn’t say anything. She never did. Always quiet, always fading. Isla had learned early that no one would protect her. She had to protect herself.
She stood and paced the small room, her fingers brushing the chipped paint on the wall
Isla(fl)
“I can’t keep living like this,” she whispered. “I need… something else. Anything
Her mother’s muffled sob came from the kitchen. Isla froze, listening. She wanted to go, to comfort her, but she didn’t know how. She had learned to hide, to survive, not to heal.
Her father’s footsteps approached. Heavy. Threatening
fl dad
“You awake, Isla?” His voice cut through the quiet.
She said softly, barely loud enough to be heard.
fl dad
Breakfast is on the table. Hurry up.”
She nodded, swallowing her resentment. The anger, the fear, the loneliness — all packed tightly in her chest. She had learned to carry it alone.
At the table, her mother tried to smile, but it faltered.
Silence followed, thick and heavy. Isla stared out the window at the wet streets, imagining a life far from this small apartment. A life where she wasn’t afraid, where her hair could flow freely and no one’s anger loomed over her every step.
Her father grunted, leaving the room.
fl dad
Don’t be late for work,” he barked over his shoulder.
She didn’t answer. Work. Always work. She had learned to endure, to move quietly, to make herself small. But a small part of her rebelled, stubborn and alive.
She picked up her bag, brushing her hair back
Isla(fl)
One day,” she whispered. “One day, I’ll leave all this behind. And they’ll see…” Her voice trailed off, caught between hope and fear.
.
fl dad
And now the fancy scarf… tying your hair like that? Are you trying to act all proper? What are you, Muslim or something?
Isla(fl)
I wear my scarf because I choose to, not for anyone else to judge.”
fl dad
Oh, so it’s a choice, huh? Then tell me… why did you ruin my face five years ago?”
Isla(fl)
Before you blame anyone, maybe you should look at yourself. You’ve spent years teaching fear and control. I don’t destroy anyone—I live my life. That’s on you
fl mom
Softly, trembling): “Enough… five years have passed. Don’t drag this up now.”
fl dad
Five years, huh? And still not a word? Clever girl…
Isla(fl)
You argue, you mock, and then expect me to explain. I owe no one that—especially not anger or regret. And the scarf? It’s not a veil, not a cover—just something I choose to wear. You don’t even try to understand that.”
fl mom
Isla… just leave. There’s nothing to gain by digging into the past.”
Isla(fl)
I’m leaving. Whatever happened five years ago stays there. I won’t let it control me.”
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Isla’s hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary. She could hear the quiet tension in the house, her father’s muttering somewhere in the background, her mother’s soft sigh from the kitchen. Five years of this… five years of fear, of small humiliations, of living under someone else’s anger. She swallowed and stepped outside, letting the door click softly behind her.
She didn’t look back. The cab waited, engine idling. She climbed in, dragging her small suitcase with her, and gave the driver the address.
She said, voice steady. London—the sprawling, chaotic, yet endless possibilities of the city. The place where no one knew her. The place she could start over.
The streets blurred past, neon lights reflecting on the wet asphalt. Her thoughts were loud, but she forced herself to breathe slowly. She lifted her phone, hesitated, and then pressed her mother’s number.
Her voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of years.
fl mom
Isla? Where… where are you? You didn’t even say goodbye.”
Isla(fl)
“I’m leaving. I’m not coming back for a while. I need to—” she paused, swallowing. “I need to live my life, Mom. I can’t… I can’t stay there anymore.”
fl mom
But… your father… what if—”
Isla(fl)
Mom, don’t. I know what you’d say. I know what he’d say. I’ve thought about it for years. I can’t keep being trapped. Five years, Mom… five years of feeling invisible in my own home. I need to breathe. I need to be free, even if it’s just for me.”
A long silence followed. Isla could hear her mother’s shaky breath on the other side.
fl mom
I… I understand, Isla. I wish… I wish I could’ve helped more.”
Isla(fl)
You tried, Mom. You did what you could. But it’s not your fault. It’s not mine either. I just… I have to go.”
fl mom
Where… where will you go?”
Isla(fl)
The capital. I have a job waiting. I’ll manage. I have to do this alone.”
fl mom
Be careful, love. And… call me, okay?”
Isla(fl)
I will. I promise.”
She ended the call and leaned back against the seat, her heart pounding in a way that wasn’t fear this time. It was excitement, anticipation… the first spark of something that belonged to her. She let herself imagine a new apartment, streets she could walk without looking over her shoulder, faces that didn’t judge, didn’t yell, didn’t diminish her.
The city drew closer, the buildings taller, the streets wider, the noise unfamiliar but invigorating. Every mile away from home felt like shedding a layer of the past, peeling off the years of shadows and anger. She clutched her bag tighter, her dark hair tucked neatly under her scarf, and allowed herself a small, private smile.
For the first time in years, Isla Hart felt… free.
She didn’t yet know the challenges that awaited her, the people she would meet, the secrets she would carry. But she knew one thing—she wouldn’t return to the suffocating house, the mocking voice, the silent mother who couldn’t fight back. She would step into the capital and take the life she had been denied for far too long.
And somewhere deep inside, buried under pain, resentment, and years of careful survival, a stubborn spark of hope flickered.
This was her beginning
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