We Only Wanted the Best for You — “What’s all this about music school?” Mum tossed the leaflet Anni…

We Only Wanted the Best

What do you mean, music college? Mum threw the brochure Id brought home from school onto the kitchen table with a thud. Absolutely not. Dont even think about it.

I stood at the kitchen door, clutching my school bag to my chest, the words stuck in my throat.

Mum, but I really want to
Oh, she wants, does she Mum mocked. What do you know about anything? Youll study accounting. Its a respectable job, secure. Youll never be short of money.

Dad sat at the table, reading the paper and staying quiet, which meant he agreed with Mum he always did.

Dad, I turned to him, clinging to hope, Dad, please say something. You always said I had talent.

He looked up at Mum, then right back to his plate.

Your mums got it right, Lucy. Music isnt a career. Its just a hobby.

Hot, angry tears flooded my cheeks. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my school jumper, only smearing them further.

There she goes again, crying now! Mum pursed her lips. Look at your cousin Charlotte. Proper job, accountant, decent husband, own flat, living like a normal person. Are you worse than her? Or do you want to scratch a guitar in alleyways your whole life?

Charlotte. Always Charlotte. Aunt Lindas daughter, Mums golden girl and my everlasting benchmark. Charlotte this, Charlotte that. Married at twenty-five, and heres me Lucy apparently cant even wash up a teacup properly.

I dont want to be like Charlotte, I whispered. I want to do music.

Enough, Dad pushed away his plate and heaved himself up. Decisions made. Youre applying for business studies and thats that. Me and your mum only want whats best for you.

I looked at them both Mum with her constant frown, Dad already on his way out of the kitchen, conversation over. They stood like an impenetrable wall, and I didnt have the money, the power, or even a say to break through it. Only a dream that had just been trampled into the kitchen lino along with my brightly coloured brochure.

I nodded, gathered up the crumpled leaflet from the floor, smoothed the pages out, and dropped it into the bin.

Five years of university turned into a single grey blur. I went to lectures, memorised balance sheets, survived exams. Not one subject made sense to me, not one sparked any interest. Debits, credits, trial balances they piled up in my head, pressing me down.

At graduation, Mum beamed as if it was her name on the degree. She snapped photos of me on the steps, rang Aunt Linda, boasting loudly.

Has she got a job lined up? Aunt Lindas voice squawked out the phone, and Mum shot a triumphant grin.
All arranged. She starts at a top firm next week. Just you wait, our Lucy will leave them all behind.

Our Lucy. Like a project, not a person.

My first day at work was exactly as Id imagined. A narrow, windowless office, a cheap monitor, piles of paperwork, and the smell of instant coffee. My colleagues two women in their forties discussed supermarket deals and someones divorce.

Eight hours passed staring at spreadsheets. The numbers blurred and swam, melting into a meaningless morass. By evening, my head throbbed, and I was desperate to cry.

My first pay went in on the 28th. I looked at the amount in my banking app and did the maths. It would just about do. If I rented a room on the outskirts, skimped on food, bought nothing extra just about.

That night, I silently packed my belongings into my old suitcase. Mum walked in as I zipped it up.

What on earth is this?
Im moving out.

She just stared, stunned, then her face flushed a deep red.

Moving out? Are you mad?
No, I picked up my case. Ive made my mind up.

What about the flat? The car? Mum gripped the door frame for support. Your father and I planned everything! Save for a deposit, get a mortgage, marry a decent man

You planned, I stepped around her and headed down the hall. This is my life. Not yours.

Dad decided to join in.

Lucy, dont be silly. Where will you go?
Anywhere.

I opened the front door. Stepped out. The breeze slammed it shut behind me.

Dragging my suitcase, I descended the stairs. Someones dog barked below, a radio blared on the fifth floor just another evening in an ordinary block of flats. I walked out onto the street, drew in a deep breath, and headed for the bus stop. In my pocket was my pay, in the suitcase, my things, and ahead a road completely my own.

For months after I left, my phone never stopped. Mum sent long texts, switching from threats to pleading. Dad called in the evenings, after my shift, when Id return to my cramped rented room.

Come home, he urged quietly. Enough is enough. Were still family.

I shook my head, though he couldnt see it.

No, Dad. Im not coming back.
Then youre not our daughter anymore, Mum snapped, snatching the phone from him. Got that? Dont come back. As far as were concerned, you dont exist.

The line went dead. I put the phone on the windowsill and sat for a long time in the dark, watching the lights of the unfamiliar neighbourhood outside. No tears, no grief, just a ringing emptiness beneath my ribs that, in time, faded by itself.

Ten years flew by. I moved through three rented flats, five jobs, endured countless sleepless nights hunched over music scores and audio software. I taught myself, at night while London slept. I took every tiny commission, wrote music for adverts, for student films, for anyone at all. Step by step, I edged forward.

Now, my name appeared in the credits of three major films and two dramas shown on national telly. My home studio filled a whole room in our airy flat, and three months ago an engagement ring gleamed on my finger.

Dan wandered in while I was mixing a new track, setting a mug of fresh coffee by my keyboard.

Someones buzzing downstairs, he said, kissing my hair.
Were not expecting anyone. Probably the wrong flat.

But the buzzer went off again. Then again, insistent and certain, as though whoever was there knew wed answer.

I took off my headphones and checked the entry screen. Two older people a woman in an old-fashioned coat and a man in a worn jacket. I knew them instantly, though the years hadnt been kind. Mum more hunched, Dad looking heavy and tired.

I pressed the intercom.

What do you want?
Lucy, Mum stepped closer to the camera. Love, its us. Let us in, please.

I stayed where I was. Dan came to my side, hand on my shoulder.

Is that your mum and dad? he asked quietly.
Yeah.

I pressed the button again.

How did you find our address?
Through friends she rushed. Charlotte saw something about your wedding online, found out what area youre in and

Understood.

I cut her off, watching them shuffle and fidget at the door below. Ten years of silence. Ten years without a call or a text to check I was alive. And now here they were, fidgeting, peering into the camera.

Ill go down, I said to Dan. Wait here.

On the ground floor, I paused outside the entry, took a deep breath, and opened the door but didnt let them in.

Lucy! Mum gasped. Youre so beautiful, love! Were so proud! The wedding looked wonderful, the photos online your Dans a proper gent, from a good family, they say

Why are you here?

Mum faltered, glanced at Dad. He coughed, stuffed his hands in his jacket.

Lucy, were your parents, he began. Whatevers in the past is done. Youve done so well now. Arent you going to pitch in?

Pitch in?
Well, he shrugged awkwardly, weve needed the bathroom redone for ages, cracks everywhere. And maybe we could finally have a little holiday by the sea. Youre doing very well now, with a husband, nice place

Mum tugged at his sleeve, whispering sharply, but he waved her off.

Why not? Youre our daughter. Its your duty to help.

I leaned against the door and folded my arms. My lips curled into a bitter smile.

Duty, is it? I repeated slowly. Funny. Ten years ago, I was not your daughter, forget the way home, all that. But now you remember suddenly, now things have worked out for me.

We just wanted you to learn from your mistake, Mum rattled on. To come home, come back to us. We only wanted the best

The best, I nodded. You know, I got here because I never gave up on my dream. I didnt end up pushing numbers in a stuffy office, I didnt become an accountant like you wanted. I chose my own path, and look its paid off.

I gestured behind me at the light streaming into the hallway.

So what do you actually want from me? Money for your decorating? For a holiday? Are you serious? After a decade of silence you show up to ask for handouts?

Thats enough, Dad muttered. Let the past go, its over.
Im not dragging up the past. Just stating facts. You cut me off when I refused to live by your rules. Now my lifes turned out better than you planned, here you are, hoping for a slice. Convenient.

Mums nose twitched and her eyes glistened.

Were still your parents, Lucy. We loved you, raised you
If you still want the best, I cut across her. She went quiet. Go home. Forget about me. Forget where I live. Carry on as if you have no daughter, like you said all those years ago.

I stepped back and started closing the door. Dad moved, but stopped when I met his eyes.

Lucy
Goodbye.

The door clicked shut.

Upstairs, in my flat, Dan was waiting anxiously in the hall.

Are you alright?
Yes, I breathed out, leaning into him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. Now I am.

He hugged me close, stroking my back, saying nothing. And I realised Id surpassed Charlotte, the golden cousin. I had it all home, marriage, a career I was truly proud of. But it was never about keeping up. Not really.

It took me a decade falling, picking myself up, working until my eyes blurred. Now, at last, I was honestly, deeply happy. And that, I know now, matters more than living up to anyones plan.