The Sales Manager, George, was unmarried, so when he saw the young and beautiful Emily on her first day in his department, he fell for her instantly. He approached her right away.
“Good morning, colleague,” he said with such a warm smile that Emily couldn’t help but hold his gaze.
“Good morning,” she replied softly, smiling back.
“Right then, let’s get you started. Katherine here will show you the ropes—she’s our senior. Review the job description, and best of luck. Hope we’ll work well together.”
The team, mostly women, watched their boss with interest. As soon as he left, Katherine whispered to her colleague Vera, “Since when does George take such an interest in new hires?” They both giggled.
At first, Emily observed quietly—new workplace, after all. Not that she was shy—shyness had never been her strong suit—but she played the role of an observer. Young but sharp, only twenty-two, she’d already broken up a few marriages by seventeen. Even in college, she’d managed an affair with a much older lecturer, though he was the one who ended it when rumours reached his wife.
Before long, George asked her out for coffee after work.
“Why not? You’re my boss, and it’s good to stay on friendly terms—build connections,” she smiled.
Her smile was so sweet and effortless that at first, he thought she was joking. But she’d agreed, and he was thrilled. At thirty, George had never been married—relationships, yes, but nothing serious. This one moved fast. They fell in love, started dating, and soon shocked the office when George announced their wedding.
Married life suited George—he indulged Emily’s every whim. He even accepted her condition.
“No children for now. I want to live for myself. When I’m ready to be a mother, I’ll tell you. Till then, darling, no nappies or baby clothes.”
George assumed she’d change her mind—what was a family without children? But time passed, and Emily refused. Every time he brought it up, she cut him off.
“George, I warned you from the start. Don’t nag me about kids. I’m not ready.”
Then one day, he saw her leave the bathroom upset, a pregnancy test in hand.
“Emily—are you pregnant?” She nodded.
Overjoyed, he swept her into his arms, but she burst into tears.
“I don’t want to be fat! You have to do something!”
But he held her close, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks.
“Don’t cry, love. This is happiness. We’re having a baby!”
Emily was determined. She got a doctor’s referral to terminate. But George rushed to the hospital just in time—she hadn’t gone in yet. He dragged her outside.
“Please, Emily. Keep our baby. I’ll help with everything, I promise.”
She agreed—on one condition: no nappies, no night feeds. He doted on her throughout the pregnancy, fulfilling every wish. Finally, the day came—he drove her to the hospital. Only when their healthy daughter, Alice, was born did he relax.
Exhausted but happy, he went home to rest. The next day, he returned to find chaos.
“Your wife’s gone. She left the baby.”
“Impossible,” George refused to believe it. “She must’ve stepped out—look for her!”
“No, she’s left. Here’s a note.” The nurse handed him a folded paper.
Emily vanished—no office, no home, no calls, a new number. Only six weeks later did she call.
“Pack my things. My boyfriend, Oliver, will collect them. File for divorce yourself—I won’t show up.”
No mention of Alice. She didn’t want the baby—or George. So he became both mother and father to little Alice. Luckily, his mum lived nearby and helped.
Sophie’s phone rang—Mrs. Thompson, Danny’s teacher.
“Come to the school at once. Your son’s caused quite a scene.” She hung up without details.
Sophie grabbed her bag, left work early, and hurried over.
“What could Danny have done? He’s usually so well-behaved.”
Danny had defied all odds. Before marrying, her husband, Edward, had been upfront: he was infertile—even had the papers to prove it. His third marriage.
“Well, doctors can be wrong,” Sophie had thought. She loved him, so she married him. If they couldn’t have kids, adoption was an option—though she hadn’t mentioned it yet.
Edward’s first marriage lasted six months—he left, accusing his wife of cheating (she had). His second wife left him after pushing for tests—she’d wanted children badly. So Edward had been honest with Sophie.
Yet Sophie got pregnant. Overjoyed, she rushed to Edward with the scan—eight weeks along.
“Edward, look! We’re having a baby! I told you doctors make mistakes!”
His reaction stunned her. He slapped her hard.
“Happy? Happy that you’ve cheated while I’m alive?” He raised his hand again—she shielded her face, weeping.
Later, he calmed down.
“Fine. A family needs a child—even if it’s not mine.” He refused to believe it was his.
Sophie stopped arguing. After Danny was born—spitting image of Edward—she hoped he’d see the truth. At first, Edward watched silently, even helping occasionally. But then the outbursts returned.
“You slut. Bet you’ve told the real father. Why put my name on the birth certificate? Make him pay!”
Sophie begged, pleaded. But it kept happening. Danny grew up hearing the screams, crying at his father’s voice. Once, Edward sneered, “Go to your real dad. Let him feed you.”
Sophie got a DNA test—proof Edward was the father. He roared, “You bribed them! I’ll expose you!”
She took Danny and left for her mother’s. Edward followed. She rented a flat across town—he found her. She filed for divorce. The humiliation was unbearable. Finally, she moved cities. Now, life was stable. Danny was a good boy—second grade. Then came the call.
At school, Sophie found Danny and a man outside the head’s office—Alice, his classmate, beside him. She knew Alice—top of the class.
Danny had a scratch on his cheek. Alice glared at him.
“Hello,” Sophie said as Mrs. Thompson arrived.
“Finally. Daniel pushed Alice—she fell and hurt herself.”
Reconciliation
“Mum, it wasn’t me! She started it! She called me a bastard and scratched me!”
“Dad, I didn’t!” Alice raised her hand—then dropped it.
“Alice, stop,” her father said.
“Daniel, apologise.”
“Alice, you too.”
The kids stood stiffly, ready to fight again. The teacher sighed.
“Parents, perhaps you can sort this?”
“We will,” Sophie and George said in unison—then laughed.
“George, Alice’s father.”
“Sophie, Danny’s mum.”
“Alice, sorry,” Danny muttered.
“You too,” Alice nudged him.
“Well done,” the parents chorused, grinning. The kids smiled too.
“This calls for pizza,” George declared.
“Mum, can we?”
Alice added, “We really are friends now. Right, Danny?”
“We believe you,” Sophie said, glancing at George. “Just a misunderstanding.”
The kids chattered happily over pizza, already pals. Danny even said, “If anyone bothers you, tell me.” Alice grinned.
The parents didn’t dwell on it—their kids were friends. And they liked each other too. After that, they met for films, park walks, dinners. The kids noticed—maybe even before they did.
Time passed. George and Sophie often joked about how lucky that fight had been. Every cloud… Sophie was expecting a boy—Danny and Alice had already picked a name: Stevie.
