Emily lay curled up on the sofa, clutching her lower abdomen. Everything ached, throbbed, and reminded her of what was coming. The same thing every time: sharp pain, then bleeding, an ambulance, the hospital, and the hollow emptiness inside. It was a miscarriageno doubt about it. Her third in two years, preceded by a stillbirth and, before that, an abortion. That abortion, the one she was still paying for, the reason she couldnt become a mother.
She reached for her phone and dialled emergency services. Half an hour later, she was loaded into the ambulance, and as they drove, she called Andrew to let him know she wouldnt be home for dinner.
“Again?” he asked. Emily didnt even reply. Tears streamed down her cheekstears of despair and disappointment in herself. How many times could this happen? Why was it always the same? Or did she already know the reason? If only she hadnt gone under the knife of that shady doctor back then, everything might have been different. She and Andrew could have had a five-year-old by now. But there was no child, and now, it seemed, there never would be.
“It hurts so much,” she gasped. The doctor adjusted her IV and gave her a detached glance.
Two days in the hospital dragged on endlessly. Then came the discharge, Andrew waiting with a bouquet of rosesjust like clockwork.
“You look so pale,” he said. Emily forced a weak smile. There was no reason to be happy. She couldnt give her husband a child, and that was painfully clear.
On the drive home, she fiddled with the bouquet before turning to him.
“I dont want to try anymore. I cant give you a baby.”
“Dont say that. Itll happen,” Andrew said, but Emily just scoffed.
“Do you even believe that? Five years wasted. Im nearly thirty, youre almost thirty-five. Its over. Im done playing at being a future mum. The doctors say theres no chancemaybe its time to listen.”
“Em, well have children,” he insisted. “Remember what Professor Reynolds said? He told us theres still hope if we follow his advice.”
“And where is your professor now?” Emily snapped. “Hes dead. His advice went with him! Thats it, Andrew. I wont torture youor myselfanymore.”
“What are you saying?” He frowned, keeping his eyes on the road.
She took a deep breath and turned away.
“Lets end this. Youll meet someone who can give you a child. You deserve that. I dont deserve youyour patience, your kindness. Im empty. Life wont stay inside me. Im worthless.”
Her voice broke. Andrew took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Stop talking nonsense. Well manage. People live without childrenso can we. Happiness isnt about kids.”
“Its about how many you have,” she whispered through tears. “Enough, Andrew. I wont rob you of fatherhood.”
“You wont rob me of happiness,” he cut in.
That was Andrewhopelessly in love, enduring her moods, willing to endure anything as long as she stayed. Hed fought for her, pushed rivals aside, and once she became his wife, he decided nothing else was needed for his happiness. Except, perhaps, a little bundle of joybut fate refused to grant them that.
Andrew knew Emilys past. He knew shed been married off young by her tyrannical father to an older man, knew about the botched abortion from that marriage. The consequences were irreversible, but there was nothing to be done. Emily had long since cut ties with her father, barely even acknowledging her younger sister.
“I wouldnt be surprised if Dad forces her into some sham marriage next,” she muttered.
Her sister, Charlotte, was twenty-twobeautiful, clever, just like Emily, but more obedient. Their father raised them alone, his ex-wives barred from interfering. He controlled his daughters the way he ran his business: pulling strings, dictating their choices, moulding them to his will.
Emily had escaped at twenty-four, met Andrew, and severed all ties. Since then, her father had forbidden Charlotte from contacting her. So when Charlotte showed up on her doorstep one evening, Emily was stunned.
“What happened?” she asked, only then noticing her sisters swollen belly.
“I ran away,” Charlotte sobbed, throwing herself into Emilys arms. It had been just over a week since the hospital, and now this.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted he wanted me to get rid of it.”
“My God, youre pregnant!” Emily gasped, taking in her sisters appearance. “Whos the father?”
“It doesnt matter. Em, it doesnt. It was lovebut hes married, doesnt want the baby. Dad said either I end it, or hed drag me to a clinic.”
Emily cried with her. Charlotte was so fragile, so defenceless, so much like her. They hadnt seen each other in five years, and Charlotte had blossomedbut her dependence on their father ruined it all. Emily was sure shed try to go back soon. She couldnt let that happen.
Andrew took Charlottes sudden arrival in stride. He never opposed Emilys decisionshe loved her too much to argue, and she never abused that.
Sure enough, after a week, Charlotte grew restless. “I cant keep upsetting Dad like this.”
“Youre not going back!” Emily grabbed her wrists. “Do you want him to hurt youor the baby? If not for yourself, think of your son!”
“Its too late for an abortion,” Charlotte said shakily. “No doctor would touch me at twenty-one weeks.”
“But he could force an early delivery!” Emily shot back. “You wouldnt even realisehed slip something in your tea, and youd go into labour. Do you know what thats like? No, you dont. But I do!”
She broke down, and her tears convinced Charlotte to stay. But guilt gnawed at hershe kept talking about their father, blaming herself.
Charlotte gave birth in July and immediately prepared to leave. Emily snatched up the baby.
“I wont let you take him to that monster! Do you want Dad to turn him into another version of himself? Go if you mustbut Im keeping Daniel.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Fine. Dad only wanted me backwithout the baby. Youre dead to him anyway. Take the screaming brat.”
Emily knew it was postpartum depression. In a month, maybe more, Charlotte would return. But holding that tiny, wailing bundle, breathing in his scent, listening to his coosit was everything.
“You know shell come back for him,” Andrew said gently.
“I know,” Emily whispered, her heart breaking. On paper, three-month-old Daniel wasnt hers, and there was no guarantee his father wouldnt claim him.
Then the call came. Her father roared down the line, threatening violence.
“Return my grandson, or Ill tear you and your pathetic husband apart!”
Emily listened, icy dread spreading. She braced for his arrival, tempted to grab Daniel and flee. If not for Andrews steady presence, she would have. She was ready to face her fatherbut terrified to meet his eyes.
The confrontation never happened. Instead, tragedy struck. Charlotte and their father died in a car crash. Daniel stayed with Emily, and she began the long process of legal guardianship. No one else wanted himand suddenly, she had her chance at motherhood. She called it her last chance. Andrew didnt object. They had no other options.
The paperwork was exhausting. Emily missed Charlotte, even pitied her father in a waybut now, she had a child. A son she could love as her own. He already felt like family, so much 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? Did you take a test?”
She hadnt.
“Get an ultrasoundnow!”
It was the miracle shed waited for. Not just pregnantbut twelve weeks along.
“Youve never made it this far,” the doctor said. “Thats a good sign. Bed rest.”
“I cant! Ive got a baby at home!”
“Youve got one inside you. Your husband can handle Daniel while you carry this one. Look at the screena healthy baby. They deserve a chance.”
Emily agreed. Two months later, she left the hospital, pregnancy intact, hope restored. Andrew waited outsideroses in hand, Daniel in his pram. The little boy squealed when he saw her. She smiled, cradled her bump, hugged her husband, then her son. Inside her, their daughter kickeddue in a few months. A last chance. A happy chance. A dream fulfilled.
