Emily walked out of the doctor’s office, her heart alight with joy—she was going to be a mother. She hurried home, eager to surprise her husband, James, who had just returned from his night shift. Normally, he would sleep till noon, but today she knew he’d be awake. She had taken time off work just to see the doctor.
But fate had other plans. The surprise was hers, not his. When she unlocked the door, her eyes landed on a woman’s handbag on the hallway table.
“What’s this?” she muttered, unease creeping in. “Who does this belong to?”
She hesitated at the bedroom door, dread coiled in her chest. Then she pushed it open and saw what she already feared—another woman in her bed, beside her James. Whether it was the shock on Emily’s face or the sudden intrusion, the stranger bolted past her and fled. James, however, rose slowly and dressed without urgency.
“Pack your things and go after her,” Emily said, her voice steel. She turned on her heel and left.
The pain that followed was unlike anything she’d known. Later, an ambulance, a hospital, and the doctor’s grim words:
“You’ve lost the baby.”
Returning home was like stepping into a tomb—silent, disheveled from the argument with James. She gathered herself, resolved to start anew. First, divorce. James never resurfaced after that night—until their final meeting in court. He looked guilty, but silent.
Months bled into years. Nearly eighteen months had passed since the divorce. Men tried to catch her eye, but Emily refused to look. Even at twenty-seven, she was numb.
“You’re like a ghost, Emily,” her coworkers chided. “Life goes on. What happened was awful, but you’ve got years ahead.”
“Something inside me broke,” she admitted. “I don’t feel joy anymore.”
“Then look at Thomas,” the girls urged. “You think it’s a coincidence he waits for you after work? That he drives you home? He’s a good man. Give him a chance.”
So she did. They went to cafés, took walks. Soon, she sensed Thomas was ready to ask the big question—and then he did.
“Let’s get married, Em. No more goodbyes. We’ll come home together.”
After the wedding, that’s exactly what they did. Work, home, dinners, the occasional stroll or TV night. But Emily longed for more—a child. Yet month after month, nothing.
One day, her office sponsored a visit to the orphanage, delivering supplies. There, a girl of about four caught her eye—her sad, solemn gaze haunted Emily long after.
“Thomas, let’s adopt. We haven’t been able to have our own. Those children—you should see their faces. They stare at every visitor with hope.”
“Em, you can’t save them all,” he said.
“But we can save one. That’s happiness enough.”
“You really want this?”
“Yes. There’s a girl—Lily. Sweet, but so sad.”
Thomas was taken aback. He’d hoped for his own child, but he agreed.
Lily had been in the orphanage since birth, abandoned by her mother. She was almost five now. Emily spoke to the director, Mrs. Bennett.
“I want to adopt Lily. What do we need to do?”
“No children of your own?”
“Not yet,” Emily admitted, sharing her loss.
“You might still have your own. And if you think adopting will erase that grief, you’re wrong. Lily deserves a family, not a substitute. Think it over. Discuss it with your husband. If you’re certain, then come back.”
As she left, Emily spotted Lily again—perched on a bench in the yard, clutching a stuffed toy while other children played. It was Lily who lingered in her mind.
Months later, Lily became Emily and Thomas’s daughter. Emily was elated, grateful to Mrs. Bennett. She loved Lily as her own, not as a replacement. Lily, too, blossomed—finally, she had parents. Though she noticed: Dad was distant.
Then, one evening, Thomas dropped the bombshell.
“Em, we made a mistake. I can’t love her as mine. I want my own child. She’s… not mine. Maybe if we have our own later. But Lily—we should send her back.”
Emily froze. She’d hoped for a baby, but Lily was hers now, heart and soul.
“She’s not a toy, Thomas. A child isn’t something you return.”
“She’s yours, not ours. Choose—me or her.”
“There’s no choice. Lily is my daughter. You do what you want.”
Thomas filed for divorce. Emily and Lily moved back to her old flat. Lily started school. Then, one day, James appeared outside their building.
“Emily—thank God. I’ve been looking for you. Asked the neighbors—they said you’d moved in with someone new.”
“Not anymore. What do you want?”
“I want us back. I know the baby—I’m sorry. I’ve changed. Forgive me.”
“No, James. We have to go.”
As the door closed behind them, his voice carried after:
“My number’s the same. If you need anything—I’ll help.”
A new thought nagged at Emily: a ten-year-old girl at the orphanage, eerily like Lily.
“Another daughter—sisters,” she dreamed. But being single now, she knew it was impossible.
Until one snowy evening, walking home, she remembered James’s words.
“What if?”
She stopped mid-step, dialed his number.
“We need to talk.”
Soon, James sat at her kitchen table, listening as she explained.
“You want my help adopting this girl—Sophie?” he asked, studying her.
“Only if you want to. No pressure.”
“Emily, after what I did—of course I want to. I’ll make it right. I want us to be a family again.”
Her breath caught. “You mean it?”
“Every word. A house full of kids—ours, theirs, what does it matter? Love makes them family.”
New Year’s Eve arrived. Lily and Sophie decorated the tree, giggling as James hid presents underneath. Emily buzzed in the kitchen, the air rich with roasting meat and spices.
The table was set, the girls fidgeting.
“Mum! When do we eat? It’s almost midnight!”
“Soon, loves—bring the dishes out.”
James watched, warmth swelling in his chest.
This wasn’t just a New Year. This was their beginning—a family, forged from broken pieces, bound by love. Life would bring storms, but they’d face them together.
