**The Realisation**
“Alex,” Kate stepped into the room, hands behind her back, a mysterious smile lighting up her face.
Alex grinned back, expecting good news or maybe even a small gift.
“What’ve you got there?” He sat up, leaning forward from the sofa. “Don’t keep me waiting—show me.”
“Here.” Kate held out her hand, something small resting on her palm. Alex didn’t recognise it at first, his smile fading as he squinted.
“What’s that?” He leaned back against the cushions as if recoiling from some unwanted surprise.
“Look!” She took a step closer, still cradling the object. “I’m pregnant!” The words burst out, trembling with barely contained joy.
*Pregnant.* The word echoed in Alex’s mind. His smile vanished. He stared at Kate as if she were a stranger, eyes wide with something like fear.
Her smile dimmed too, like stage lights fading before a play. She curled her fingers around the pregnancy test and slowly lowered her hand.
“You’re not happy?” Her voice wobbled, this time with unshed tears.
“Kate, we agreed to wait. Did you stop taking your pills?” His voice sharpened, anger clipping the words.
“I forgot once, and then…” She sank onto the sofa beside him. He shifted away instantly, as if afraid of contagion.
“What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me? Do you *really* want to waste your life on nappies and sleepless nights? You’re still a kid yourself.” He stood, pacing like a caged animal.
“Kate, let’s talk about this properly—”
“I’m not having an abortion. He’s already here. I *know* it’s a boy. He’ll look just like you.” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over.
Her words pinned Alex to the spot. She stared at him with desperate resolve, cheeks wet. A sob hitched in her throat.
“Kate, listen.” He sat beside her, pulling her close. *Shouting won’t help. Be gentle. Talk her round…*
She shoved his arm away and leapt up as if she’d heard his thoughts.
“I. Am. Not. Having. An. Abortion.” Each word precise, deliberate.
“Kate, I didn’t say that. I was just shocked. I’m sorry.” He caught her hand, drew her onto his lap. “Silly girl. I love you so much.” He stroked her shoulder. “Don’t cry—it’s bad for the baby.”
“You’re really happy?” She wiped her cheeks.
“Of course,” Alex said easily, though his mind raced. *Nine months. A whole year. Anything could happen…*
For a while, nothing changed. Kate showed no signs, and Alex began to wonder if the test had been wrong. But then the morning sickness hit. She turned pale, barely ate, refused to leave the flat.
They used to go out every evening—cinema, dinners with mates, cafés. Now she just lay there, moaning about feeling sick. The smell of meat made her gag. Alex was bored. He wasn’t used to being stuck indoors.
“Kate, it’s Rob’s birthday on Saturday,” he said awkwardly.
“Go without me. I won’t last five minutes at a table anyway,” she muttered, facing the wall.
Alex hid his relief. He’d hoped she’d refuse, but not this easily.
At the party, he revelled in freedom—jokes, pints, staying out late. When he got home, Kate was still curled toward the wall.
Then the bump grew. She fussed over pillows, sighed constantly, kept him awake. She cried over nothing, shut him out. His resentment swelled alongside her belly.
“When are you two finally getting married?” his mum asked during a visit. “Past time, isn’t it? I’m no fan of your Kate, but still. Picked a name yet?”
“Andrew. After her dad. Mum, who gets married with a bump?”
“Just sign the papers. I warned you—”
“Not this again! Can’t I get peace anywhere?”
On the way home, he ducked into a pub. He’d barely slept when Kate shook him awake.
“Alex! Wake up!”
“What?” He rubbed his eyes.
“I feel awful. My back—it’s killing me.”
“Ambulance?” He fumbled for his phone—dead. Grabbed hers. “I’ll call a cab. Get dressed.”
In the hallway, Kate sat on the stool, a coat thrown over her nightie. A bulky bag sat at her feet.
“Got your documents? Let’s go.”
They inched down the stairs, stopping often. The cab idled outside.
“St. Mary’s, mate. Step on it,” Alex said, sliding in beside her.
Kate clutched her stomach, breathing hard. In the cramped backseat, the bump seemed enormous. She bit her lip, groaning.
“Nearly there,” Alex muttered, masking his own fear.
At A&E, he half-carried her inside, arm hooked around her like a medic hauling a wounded soldier.
“Help! Anyone!” He hammered on the glass door.
“Keep your hair on,” a midwife grumbled, unlocking it. “Come in, love.” She took the bag, then shut the door in Alex’s face. Through the glass, he watched her lead Kate away.
“Kate!” She didn’t look back.
Four hours later, she had a boy. Dazed, Alex went to his mother’s.
“Congratulations. Right, Dad—shopping spree for your son, then drinks,” she ordered.
They bought half of Mothercare, barely squeezing it into the cab. That evening, Alex toasted with mates, drinking heavily as they shared newborn horror stories.
“What exactly are we celebrating?” A familiar voice purred behind him. Soft hands rested on his shoulders. “Hello, handsome.”
“Natasha?” He turned, grinning.
“Careful, love. He’s a dad now. Nine pounds! Absolute tank. Join us.” A friend handed her champagne.
Alex remembered nothing else. He woke disoriented, head pounding.
“Rise and shine, Daddy.” Natasha smirked by the bed.
“Your place? How?”
“Drove you. Didn’t fancy dropping you home to your happy family.”
“Why am I naked?”
“Relax. You stayed faithful.” She rolled her eyes. “People sleep naked. I missed you. Expected gratitude.” She leaned in, hair tickling his chest. He dodged her kiss, sat up. The room spun.
“Breakfast? Or just leaving?”
Alex yanked on his jeans.
“I’ll wait,” Natasha said as he left.
Three days later, Alex collected Kate with flowers, his mum, and her mother.
“Here’s your lad.” The midwife handed him a bundle. He’d expected a chubby, poster-perfect baby. Instead, a tiny, red, wrinkled face peered from white lace. He felt nothing but surprise and distaste.
At home, the bundle shrieked like a wind-up toy the moment it touched the bed. The women fussed. Alex lingered, useless.
They didn’t sleep that night. Exhausted, Kate rocked Andrew, who screamed whenever set down.
“*Do* something. I’ve work tomorrow,” Alex begged.
It repeated nightly. Alex couldn’t fathom how such noise came from something so small. He stumbled through work, desperate for sleep. Kate grew gaunt, ghostlike.
Autumn came. Golden leaves crunched underfoot. Leaving the office, Alex inhaled the crisp air. He didn’t want to go home. A car honked—Natasha.
“Get in. You look rough. Domestic bliss not all it’s cracked up to be?”
“No sleep,” he admitted.
“Come to mine. Catch up. Promise no funny business.” She laughed.
That morning, he woke refreshed. Natasha had made breakfast.
“Thanks, Kate,” he mumbled through a sandwich.
“Natasha. But you’re welcome.”
“What’d I call you? Sorry—gotta run.” He pecked her cheek.
“Door’s always open.”
Days later, he returned.
“Knew you would.” In the hallway, she yanked at his clothes…
Alex woke to silence. Natasha breathed evenly beside him. He rolled over, slept again.
“Can I stay?” he asked in the morning.
“Course.” She smiled.
Walking to work, he rehearsed telling Kate he wasn’t coming back. He’d never wanted this. *She* chose the baby. He recorded a voice note—*I’m done. Can’t live like this*—and sent it without regret.
Later, stuck in traffic with Natasha, sunshine glinted off new leaves. Nearby, a man tossed a giggling toddler. A woman watched, smiling. She reminded him of Kate.
Alex remembered her joy at the pregnancy test, their old life… His son would be walking now. Was someone else tossing *him* in the air?
“Natasha, why don’t you want kids?”
Silence.
“Who says I don’t?” Her voice cracked.He looked at Natasha, then back at the family on the playground, and finally whispered, “I think I need to go home.”
