He was only sixteen when he brought her home—a girl already heavily pregnant, a year older than him.
Emily attended the same college, though she was a year ahead. For days, Oliver had watched the unfamiliar girl huddle in a corner, silently weeping. He noticed the unmistakable swell of her stomach, the same clothes worn for weeks, and the hollow, hopeless look in her eyes.
As it turned out, nearly everyone knew her story. The grandson of a well-known man in their town had been dating her before vanishing—off on some vague business trip to the next county. His parents refused to acknowledge her existence, bluntly dismissing her when she went to them. And her own family, fearing disgrace, had thrown her out as if it were the Middle Ages, retreating to their country house without a second thought. Some pitied her; others snickered behind her back.
*”It’s her own fault. She should’ve known better.”*
Oliver couldn’t just stand by. He weighed his options and finally approached her.
*”It won’t be easy, but stop crying. Come home with me—we’ll get married. Just know this: I won’t lie to you, and I won’t sugarcoat anything—not for you, not for the baby. But I’ll be there. I promise we’ll make it work.”*
Emily wiped her tears and studied him. Just an ordinary boy—no charm, no polish. Not the groom she’d dreamed of. But in her state, she had no choice. So she followed him.
His parents were horrified. His mother begged him to reconsider, but Oliver stood firm.
*”Mum, stop fretting. I’ve got two grants—the regular and the hardship one. I’ll pick up extra work. We’ll manage.”*
*”But you wanted to keep studying!”*
*”So what? Dad’s worked at the factory his whole life, you’re behind the till at the shop. People get by without university. It’s not the end of the world.”*
Emily settled into Oliver’s room. He gave her his bed, taking the lumpy fold-out chair for himself. For days, she was quiet—shadowing him between college and home, silent as a ghost. Then, suddenly, she snapped.
*”I’ve had enough! Why do your parents glare at me? They hate me! And why do you never spend time with me? Always studying or running off somewhere!”*
Oliver was taken aback.
*”Isn’t that normal? Yeah, they don’t like you, but they put a roof over your head. My parents took you in. Yours didn’t. And the father’s family? Where are they? I study because I don’t want to flunk out and lose my grant. And when I leave, it’s to earn money—not to watch soppy dramas with you.”*
Emily burst into tears.
*”Why are you so cruel?”*
*”Me? I warned you—I don’t lie. Speaking of which, when are we registering at the registry office?”*
*”I can’t go like this! Buy me a nice dress—high-waisted, so my stomach doesn’t show.”*
*”Are you serious? We’re bringing a pregnancy certificate—who cares about a dress? I’ve got a pram and a cot to save for!”*
His mother was drowning in valerian drops, but she slowly softened, her gaze lingering on baby clothes more often. *Maybe it won’t be so bad. They’ll marry, raise the child—we’ll help. But that girl… so ungrateful. Dissatisfied with Oliver, with us, with the flat. Maybe motherhood will change her.*
But Emily never changed. When Oliver dragged in a scrawny, battered cat from his shift at the car wash, she flushed with fury.
*”You idiot! Why’d you bring that mangy thing here? Get rid of it!”*
Oliver didn’t budge.
*”No. She’s pregnant. She stays. Heat up my dinner and stop screeching.”*
*”Fine!”* she shrieked. *”Choose—her or me! Even that cat glares at me!”*
*”What?”* Oliver gave her a baffled look. *”It’s my home—I don’t have to choose. This is my cat now. If you don’t like it, leave. Even my mum never made me pick. Maybe it’s time you stopped glaring at everyone else?”*
Emily raged, sobbed, even grew jealous of the scraggly cat. *Where did he even see her belly?* But soon enough, the proof appeared—she *was* expecting kittens.
Oliver was exhausted, but whenever regret crept in, he forced it back. *They’d manage. She’d have the baby, calm down. And before that, the kittens would lift their spirits.*
But fate had other plans.
Her grandfather—the town’s big shot—returned from a business trip. Disgusted, he hunted down his grandson, ripped into him, and threatened to cut him off unless his great-grandchild was raised properly—not in some stranger’s hovel.
Emily left college with him that same day, forgetting Oliver entirely. She didn’t bother with her things—new ones would be bought. And she’d *never* set foot in that shabby college again.
Oliver was crushed. *Not even a goodbye. Not a word.* He threw out her belongings and sat in the dark for hours, clutching his cat.
She understood—pressing close, purring silent comfort.
When her time came, Oliver delivered the kittens himself, keeping his jittery parents away. He soothed her, murmured reassurances, a phone ready in case the vet was needed.
Four kittens. Fresh bedding. Food and water set out. Only then did he collapse into bed—too drained to remember it was his seventeenth birthday.
