The Final Chance
Emily lay curled up on the sofa, clutching her stomach, every muscle aching in a way that felt horribly familiar. The sharp pain, the bleeding, the ambulance, the hospitalthen nothing. Another miscarriage. No doubt about it. The third in two years, following a stillbirth, and before that, an abortion. The abortion shed been paying for ever since, with every failed attempt to become a mother.
With a shaky hand, she grabbed her phone and dialled 999. Half an hour later, she was loaded into the ambulance, texting her husband, William, to let him know she wouldnt be home for dinner.
“Again?” he asked, and Emily didnt bother replying. Tears streamed down her cheekstears of despair, of disappointment in herself. How many times? Why did this keep happening? Or did she already know the answer? If she hadnt gone to that dodgy doctor all those years ago, maybe she and William would have a five-year-old by now. But they didnt. And at this rate, they never would.
“It hurts so much,” she gasped, and the paramedic adjusted her IV with an indifferent glance.
Two days in hospital dragged like an eternity. Then came the discharge, William waiting with a bouquetsame script, different scene.
“You look pale,” he said. Emily forced a weak smile. What was there to celebrate? She couldnt give him a child. That much was obvious.
On the drive home, she fiddled with the roses in her lap before turning to him. “I dont want to try anymore. I cant give you a baby.”
“Dont say that. Itll happen,” William insisted, but she scoffed.
“Do you even believe that? Five years wasted. Im nearly thirty, youre thirty-five. Enough playing pretend. The doctors say its hopelessmaybe we should listen.”
“Em, well have kids,” he countered. “Remember what Professor Harrison said? Theres still a chance if we follow his advice.”
“And where is your precious professor now?” Emily snapped. “Gone. His advice? Gone with him. Its over, Will. I wont waste any more of your time.”
“And whats that supposed to mean?” He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight.
She took a deep breath, turning to the window. “Lets split up. Find someone who can give you a child. You deserve that. Im empty. I cant hold onto life. Im useless.”
Her voice cracked. William took her hand, pressed it to his lips. “Stop talking nonsense. Well manage. Plenty of people live happy lives without kids. Happiness isnt about children.”
“Or the lack of them,” she muttered. “Enough, Will. I wont rob you of fatherhood.”
“You wont rob me of *us*,” he cut in.
That was Williamhopelessly in love, tolerating her moods, willing to endure anything as long as she stayed. Hed fought for her, swept aside rivals, and when she finally became his wife, he decided nothing else mattered. Except maybe a little bundle of joybut fate had other plans.
He knew Emilys past. Knew shed been married off young to an older man by her controlling father, knew about the botched abortion that had left her like this. There was no undoing it. Shed cut ties with her father years ago, barely knew her younger sister, Charlotte, who was still under his thumb.
“Wouldnt surprise me if Dad marries her off to some creep for his own gain.”
Charlotte was twenty-twobeautiful, smart, just like Emily, but far more obedient. Their father had raised them alone, his ex-wives barred from having any say. He ruled his daughters like his businesspulling strings, making decisions, demanding compliance.
Emily had escaped at twenty-four, met William, and severed all ties. So when Charlotte showed up on her doorstep one evening, she was stunned.
“Whats wrong?” Emily asked, only then noticing the bump under her sisters coat.
“I ran away,” Charlotte sobbed, throwing her arms around Emily. It had been just over a week since the hospital, and now this.
“What did he want?”
“He he wanted me to get rid of it.”
“Oh my God, youre pregnant!” Emily gasped, finally taking it in. “Whos the father?”
“It doesnt matter. It was love. Hes married, doesnt want the baby. Dad said either I get rid of it, or hed drag me to the clinic himself.”
Emily held her sister as they both cried. Charlotte was so fragile, so lost. Five years apart had turned her from an awkward teen into a graceful womanyet still trapped. Emily knew shed want to go back eventually. And that couldnt happen.
William took Charlottes arrival in stride. He never fought Emily on anythingtoo in love to argue, and she never took advantage.
Sure enough, a week later, Charlotte grew restless. “I cant keep upsetting Dad like this.”
“Youre not going back!” Emily grabbed her wrists. “Do you want him hurting you? Hurting the baby? If not for yourself, think of your son!”
“Its too late for an abortion nowno doctor would do it at twenty-one weeks.”
“But he could force early labour!” Emily snapped. “You wouldnt even realise. Hed slip something into your tea, and youd be in labour before you knew it. You have no idea what thats likebut I do!”
She broke down, and her tears convinced Charlotte to stay. But guilt gnawed at her sistershe kept talking about their father, as if she owed him something.
Charlotte gave birth in July and immediately packed her bags. Emily snatched the baby, clutching him tight.
“Youre not taking him back to that monster! You want Dad turning your son into another version of himself? Go if you mustbut Oliver stays with me.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Fine. Dad only wanted me backwithout the baby. And youre dead to him anyway. Keep the screaming, fussy little thing.”
Emily knew it was postpartum depression. In a month, maybe more, Charlotte would come back for him. But for now, she savoured holding the tiny, wriggling bundle, breathing in his scent, listening to his coos.
“You know shell want him back,” William said gently. “Sooner or later.”
“I know,” Emily whispered, heart breaking. On paper, three-month-old Oliver wasnt hers. No guarantee his father wouldnt show up one day.
Then the call came. Her father, screaming down the phone. “Return my grandson, or Ill rip you and your pathetic husband apart!”
Emilys blood ran cold. She braced for his arrival, tempted to grab Oliver and flee. If not for William standing firm, she might have. She prepared to face her fatherterrified but resolved.
But the meeting never happened.
Instead, tragedy struck. Charlotte and their father died in a car crash. Oliver was Emilys now, and she threw herself into securing legal guardianship. No one else stepped forwardthis was her chance. Her *last* chance. William didnt object. They both knew the alternative.
The paperwork dragged on, endless bureaucracy. Emily grieved her sister, even pitied her father in a way, but Oliver was hers nowa son she could love as her own. He even looked like Charlotte.
Amid the chaos, she forgot her gynaecologist appointment. The doctor scolded her, then paused.
“Waitany chance youve missed a period?”
Emily shrugged. “Stress, probably.”
“Stress? Take a test!”
The ultrasound confirmed itshe was pregnant. Not just pregnant, but past twelve weeks.
“Youve never made it this far,” the doctor said. “Thats a good sign. Bed rest.”
“I cantI have a baby!”
“Youre *carrying* one. Let your husband handle Oliver while you focus on this one. Look at the screenhealthy, strong. This baby deserves a chance.”
Emily agreed. Two months later, she left the hospital, pregnancy intact, hope renewed. William waited outside, flowers in handand a pram. Oliver squealed at the sight of her. She smiled, touched her belly, hugged her husband, then her son. Inside her, their daughter kicked gentlydue in a few months.
The final chance. The happy ending. The dream shed almost given up on.
