He was just sixteen when he brought her home—a girl, already heavily and undeniably pregnant, a year older than him.
Lily studied at the same college as he did, though a year ahead. For days, Oliver had watched the unfamiliar girl huddle in a corner, crying silently. He noticed the telltale curve of her belly, the same clothes worn for weeks, and the hollow, 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 courted her, then vanished without a word, claiming urgent business in the neighbouring county. His parents refused to acknowledge her, bluntly telling her so. Her own family, fearing disgrace as though they lived in Tudor times, had thrown her out and retreated to their countryside cottage. Some pitied her; others whispered behind her back.
*”Serves her right. Should’ve thought with her head!”*
Oliver couldn’t just stand by. He weighed it all up and approached her.
“It won’t be easy, but stop crying. Come home with me—we’ll marry. But I won’t lie, and I won’t coddle you or the child. I’ll just be there. I promise we’ll make it work.”
Lily wiped her tears and studied him. Just an ordinary boy, no charm, no polish. She’d dreamed of a very different sort of husband! But in her state, she had no choice. So she went with him.
His parents were horrified. His mother begged him to reconsider, but he was firm.
“Mum, don’t fret. I’ve got two grants—regular and hardship. I’ll find work. We’ll manage.”
“But you wanted to keep studying!”
“So what? Dad’s worked the factory floor his whole life, you’re at the shops. People get by without degrees. It’s not the end of the world.”
Lily settled into his room. He gave her his bed and slept on the lumpy fold-out chair. For days, she was quiet as a ghost, clinging to his hand on the way to college and back. Then, suddenly, she erupted.
“I’ve had enough! Why do your parents glare at me? They hate me! And why do you never spend time with me? Always studying or running off somewhere!”
Oliver was bewildered.
“Isn’t that how it should be? Yes, they don’t like you, but they took you in. Your own family didn’t want you. And where’s the father’s lot? Studying? Yes—I don’t want to flunk out. And I need that grant. When I’m gone, I’m working. I’ve no interest in soppy telly dramas.”
Lily burst into tears.
“Why are you so cruel?”
“How? I warned you—I don’t lie. By the way, when are we filing for marriage?”
“I can’t go like *this*! Buy me a nice dress—high-waisted, to hide the bump.”
“Are you serious? We’ll show the pregnancy notice—who cares about a dress? I’m saving for a pram and a cot!”
His mother reached for the valerian drops but slowly adjusted. Her gaze lingered more often on baby clothes. Really, was it so terrible? Let them marry, let them live—she and his father would help. But the girl was ungrateful, scowling at Oliver, at them, at their cramped flat. Well, maybe after the birth, she’d soften.
But Lily had no intention of changing. When Oliver came home from the car wash, grimy and exhausted, carrying a scraggly cat, she flushed with rage and shrieked.
“You idiot! What do we need that mangy thing for? Throw it out! Now!”
“No. She’s expecting. She stays. Keep quiet and warm my dinner.”
“Oh, is that so?” Lily near screeched. “Choose! Her or me!”
Oliver’s face twisted in disbelief.
“I’m in my own home—I don’t *choose*. She’s mine now. If you don’t like it, leave. Even Mum never made me pick. Maybe *you* should stop glaring at everyone.”
Lily sobbed, raged, even grew jealous of the scrawny cat. Where had Oliver even seen a belly? But soon enough, the proof came—the cat *was* expecting.
He was weary, but whenever regret crept in, he pushed it away. They’d endure. Lily would settle after the birth, and sooner still, the kittens would bring calm.
But it didn’t happen that way.
The grandfather—that town notable—returned from a long trip and learned everything. He hunted down his grandson, gave him a thrashing, and threatened to cut him off unless his great-grandchild was raised properly. And oh, how the *boy* feared losing his privileges.
Lily left college with him that very day, forgetting Oliver entirely. Luckily, she had her papers (she’d planned a clinic visit after lectures). Her old things? Not worth a thought—she’d have new ones now! And she’d never set foot in that wretched college again.
Oliver was crushed. Not even a goodbye. No call, not a word. He threw out her belongings and sat alone in the dark, clutching his cat.
The cat understood. She pressed close, silent, just knowing she was needed. She purred, comforted, shared his sorrow.
When her time came, Oliver delivered the kittens himself, keeping his nervous mother and bewildered father away. He whispered reassurance, watched closely, kept the vet on speed dial.
Four kittens arrived—healthy, mewling. He changed the bedding, set out food and water, and only when certain all was well did he collapse into bed. In all the chaos, he forgot—that day had once been his birthday, too.
He had just turned seventeen.
