He was just sixteen when he brought her home… a girl already heavily pregnant, a year older than him.
Emily attended the same college, though a year ahead. For days, Oliver had noticed her—huddled in a corner, weeping silently. He couldn’t miss the rounding of her belly, the same worn clothes she’d worn for weeks, or the dull, hopeless look in her eyes.
As it turned out, nearly everyone knew her story. The grandson of a well-known figure in their town had dated her, then vanished, claiming business in a neighbouring county. His parents refused to acknowledge her, bluntly telling her she meant nothing to them. Her own family, fearing “shame,” had thrown her out and retreated to their countryside cottage. Some pitied her; others whispered behind her back.
*”She brought it on herself. She should’ve known better!”*
Oliver couldn’t just watch. After thinking it over, he approached her.
“It won’t be easy, but stop crying. Come live with me—we’ll get married. But I won’t lie to you or sugarcoat things. I won’t coddle you or the baby. I’ll just… be there. And I promise we’ll be alright.”
Emily wiped her tears and studied him. Just an ordinary boy, nothing polished. She’d dreamed of a very different husband. But with no choice left, she went with him.
His parents were horrified. His mother begged Oliver to reconsider, but he was firm.
“Mum, stop worrying. It’ll be fine. I’ve got two grants—my regular one and the hardship bursary. I’ll pick up extra work. We’ll manage.”
“But you wanted to keep studying!”
“So what? We’re doing alright. Dad’s worked at the factory his whole life; you’re at the shop. People live without degrees. It’s not the end of the world.”
Emily settled into his room. He gave her his bed and squeezed onto an uncomfortable pull-out chair. For days, she was silent—shadowing him to college, holding his hand, until she finally snapped.
“I’ve had enough! Why do your parents glare at me? They don’t like me! And why don’t you spend time with me? Always studying or working—what’s wrong with you?!”
Oliver sighed.
“Isn’t that normal? Yeah, they don’t love you, but they let you stay. Yours threw you out. And where’s the father’s family? Studying keeps my grades up—I won’t lose my bursary. I work because we need money. I’m not here to watch soppy telly with you.”
Emily burst into tears.
“Why are you so cruel?”
“Cruel? I warned you—I don’t lie. By the way, when are we filing for the registry office?”
“I can’t go like *this*! Buy me a nice dress—high-waisted, so no one sees!”
“Are you serious? We’ll show the pregnancy certificate—who cares about a dress? I’m saving for a pram and cot!”
His mother reached for her sedatives but slowly adjusted, eyeing baby clothes in shops. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible. Let them marry; she and Dad would help. Still, the girl was ungrateful—never satisfied with Oliver, the cramped flat, anything. Maybe motherhood would soften her.
But Emily didn’t change. When Oliver came home dirty from the car wash, carrying a scruffy stray, she erupted.
“You idiot! Why bring that mangy thing here? Throw it out—now!”
Oliver shook his head.
“She’s pregnant. She stays. Stop shouting and heat up my dinner.”
“Oh, is that how it is?” she shrieked. “Choose—her or me!”
Oliver frowned.
“I live here. I don’t have to choose. She’s mine now—if you don’t like it, leave. Even Mum didn’t give me ultimatums. Maybe you should stop glaring at everyone.”
Emily sobbed, raged, even grew jealous of the bony, patchy cat. *Where did he even see a belly?* But soon, it swelled—she *was* carrying kittens.
Exhausted, Oliver pushed away any regret. They’d endure. Emily would settle after the birth, and the kittens would bring joy. Nothing soothed like tiny, purring lives.
But it unraveled differently.
The grandfather—the town’s influential man—returned from abroad, heard the scandal, and tracked down his grandson. After a fierce scolding, he threatened to cut him off unless his great-grandchild was raised in the family. And losing that privilege? The boy wouldn’t dare.
Emily left college with him that same day, forgetting Oliver. Luck—she had her documents (meant for the clinic). She shrugged off her old things—she’d get new ones. She’d never step foot in that dump of a college again.
Oliver was shattered. Not a goodbye, not a call. He tossed her belongings out and sat in the dark, clutching his cat.
She understood, pressing close, purring comfort.
When her time came, Oliver delivered the kittens himself, keeping his nervous parents away. He murmured reassurance, watching carefully, his phone ready for the vet.
Four healthy kittens arrived. He changed the bedding, set out food and water, and collapsed into bed, too weary to remember—it was his birthday.
He was seventeen now.
Life had taught him early: kindness is its own reward, but not everyone learns to treasure it.
