At seven in the morning, when the phone rang, I already knewit was Oliver. Only he would call at such an ungodly hour with the energy of someone who believed the day began at five.
“What?” I grumbled, barely awake.
“Emma, sorry to wake you, but… I need a massive favor.”
I sat up in bed. With him, a “massive favor” always meant either disaster or madness.
“Spit it out, then.”
“Ive got a business trip to London. Two weeks. Sophies six months along, and the doctors ordered her to take it easy…”
“And you want me to look after your pregnant wife?” I cut in.
Silence stretched on the other end.
“Just to make sure she eats properly, gets to her appointments, doesnt overdo it…”
“Do you hear how this sounds, Oliver?”
“I know,” he exhaled. “But I trust you. And Sophie adores you. Says youre the sister she never had.”
Lovely, I thought. The sister who was once married to her husband and still isnt sure shes completely over him.
I hung up, but twenty minutes later, I was standing at their front door. Sophie answeredwearing a teddy bear pyjama set, her hair a mess, her belly round and glowing.
“Emma! I didnt want to bother you, this was all Olivers idea,” she said, flustered.
“Relax, I dont bite. Wheres your globe-trotter?”
“Upstairs, hunting for socks. Blue ones. Unsuccessfully, as usual.”
Oh, I knew that ritual well.
“You actually came?” Oliver peeked out.
“Yep. But Ive got conditions.”
He tensed.
“Which are?”
“No calling every five minutes. Dinner at the poshest restaurant in town when youre back. And buy Sophie those Belgian chocolatesshes been craving them since yesterday.”
“How did you know?” Sophie blinked.
“Written all over your face,” I said, smirking. “Pregnancy cravings dont lie.”
When he finally left, we were alonethe ex-wife and the current one, both a little lost.
“Strange, isnt it?” Sophie said, pouring me tea.
“Very. But Im used to strange by now.”
We fell into a rhythm. Mornings together, breakfasts, chores. We binged telly, laughed, talked about everything.
“Be honest,” she whispered one evening. “Do you still love him?”
I couldve lied. But not to her.
“Yes. But not like before. Its like loving a memory. It aches, but it doesnt cut anymore.”
She nodded.
“I was scared you hated me.”
“Believe me, I tried,” I chuckled. “But youre too good to hate.”
The next day, we went for her scan. When the tiny heartbeat flickered on the screen, Sophie squeezed my hand.
“See? Thats him.”
And I dida little life born from a past Id once shared with that man. It hurt… and yet, somehow, it didnt.
“Handsome,” I said truthfully.
“Dyou think Oliver will cry when he sees the photo?”
“Absolutely. He sobbed at the end of *Love Actually*.”
We laughed. We cried. We became friends.
One night over pasta, Sophie asked, “Why did you two really split?”
I set the knife down.
“We were opposites. Mecontrol. Himchaos. I was the quiet, he was the storm. We loved each other, but we couldnt live together.”
“And with me?”
“With you, he found balance. You steady him. I just… fanned the flames.”
She smiled through tears.
“Youre brilliant, Emma.”
“No. I just learned to let go.”
When Oliver returned, Sophie nearly bowled him over with a hug. He showered me in thanks.
“Emma, youre an angel.”
“An angel who wants that three-Michelin-star dinner,” I reminded him.
They laughed. I watched themand realized, yes, I still loved him. But now, it was love without demands. Love that could rejoice in their happiness.
“This little ones got the best aunt in the world,” Oliver said, staring at the scan photo.
“Aunt?” Sophie raised a brow.
“Obviously,” I grinned. “After two weeks, Im officially part of this mad little family.”
“Sure you want in on this mess?” he joked.
“Too late to back out now,” I said. “Someones got to stop you naming the kid Algernon.”
“Whats wrong with Algernon?!” Sophie gasped.
We all burst out laughing.
So I became “Auntie” to my ex-husbands child and his wonderful wife. And you know what? I wasnt lonely anymore.
My story mightve sounded like a soap opera plotbut it had everything. Laughter, pain, tenderness, forgiveness.
And when, months later, Sophie called and said,
“Emma, we want you to be our sons godmother,”
I just laughed and said,
“Well, now Im stuck with you lot for good.”
