**A Mother’s Promise**
The first day of university began with a lecture. Emily had spent ages wandering the halls before finding the right room. She barely had time to take a seat in the front row before the professor walked in. He introduced himself and outlined the year’s coursework, stressing that exam questions would come from his lectures—not textbooks. “Attend now,” he warned, “or waste time later scouring the internet for answers.”
Just then, the door swung open, and in walked a dazzlingly bright-eyed girl. The hall tittered. The professor turned sharply.
“Here for the lecture? Your name?” he demanded.
“Sophia Abigail Whitmore,” she replied breezily, unbothered.
“Very well, Sophia. Don’t let it happen again. Latecomers aren’t welcome in my class,” he said, eyeing the room. “That goes for all of you. Now, where were we?”
Sophia teetered to the front in her stilettos. Emily scooted over, making space.
“Hey. What’s his deal—scaring us already?” Sophia whispered.
“Shh, or he’ll toss you out,” Emily hissed.
By break, they’d bonded. Sophia commuted daily from Surrey, miscalculating the train that morning. Emily, from Manchester, lived in halls. Sophia was vivacious, carefree, dismissive of grades. “Who cares about a first-class degree? Marry well—that’s the ticket,” she’d say.
“I promised my mum I’d study hard,” Emily countered. “She raised me alone. Got pregnant at uni, and the bloke vanished. She dropped out, terrified I’d repeat her mistakes. I won’t let her down.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Living like a nun over textbooks. When’s *your* life starting?”
“After graduation,” Emily laughed.
Despite their differences, they became inseparable. Emily attended every lecture, sharing notes. She covered for Sophia’s absences, while Sophia danced, dated, and lived without restraint. Others warned Emily: “She’s using you.”
“So what? Friendship’s rarely selfless,” Emily shrugged.
By fourth year, Sophia fell in love and abandoned studying. Without Emily, she’d have been expelled. Then—she got pregnant.
“Wanted an abortion, but Sam found out and lost it. So, we’re marrying. You’re my witness—no arguments.”
They wed just before New Year’s. By finals, Sophia had a son, scraping by on pity passes. Emily graduated with honours, planning to return to Manchester.
“With *that* degree? London’s yours! Sam’s dad owns a firm—he’ll hire you. Your mum can wait. Earn, gain experience—Manchester’ll snatch you up later. Sam’s got a single mate, remember? You *promised* to start living after uni.”
Emily stayed. Sam’s father hired her, and she excelled—but her love life stalled.
The friends stayed in touch, rarely meeting. Sophia was knee-deep in nappies; Emily, in work. Then, Sophia called, voice hollow: “Come over.”
Emily rushed in to find her red-eyed. “I’m pregnant.”
Emily exhaled. “And here I panicked! Congratulations!”
“For *what*? Just got rid of nappies, planned to work—now this! Sam’s an only child—wants a brood. Buying a house, never asks *me*.”
“Why not use protection?”
“Tried pills. Sam found them, threw a fit. He’s never home—always in Sweden for work. If men had to birth *one* child…” She eyed Emily. “You’d tell me if he’s cheating, right?”
“Don’t be daft. He adores you.”
Sophia had another boy—and wept.
“Now he wants a *girl*. What if it’s another boy? I’m not a breeding machine!”
With two kids, Sophia was overwhelmed. Emily married Sam’s friend, desperate for a baby—but none came. Tests revealed she’d never conceive.
Devastated, she threw herself into work. Her husband refused adoption, then left for another woman. She let him go—she’d never loved him deeply.
Meanwhile, Sophia moved to a posh Surrey mansion. Visiting, Emily admired the gardens Sophia tended to stave off loneliness.
“I envy you,” Emily said, tearing up at the nursery’s cloud-painted walls, photos of beaming boys.
“Happy? Sam’s always abroad. I’m pregnant *again*. After this, I’m done. If it’s another boy, he’ll leave me fat and unloved. I’m getting an abortion.”
Emily froze. “Don’t. Have this baby—*for me*. You know I can’t.”
“You’re mad!” Sophia snapped.
Yet when Sam approved a summer trip to Manchester (“Your mum needs a break”), Emily rejoiced. *Her* baby! Sophia’s belly grew discreetly under flowy dresses.
In August, Sophia went berry-picking despite protests. That night, she delivered early—a fragile girl.
“She’s yours. Might be sick—your problem,” Sophia said, binding her breasts.
The baby survived, frail but loved. Emily quit her job, moving to Manchester to raise *her* daughter, Alice. Sophia never called.
**Fifteen Years Later**
Under an oak tree in a modest garden, Emily served tea. Her burly, balding husband chatted; Alice, now fifteen, fidgeted in a sundress.
Behind the fence, Sophia watched, then pushed the gate open. Emily stiffened.
“This is Sophia, my uni friend,” she introduced hastily.
Alice, unnerved by the stranger’s stare, left to see a friend. Emily’s husband excused himself.
“Why are you here?” Emily hissed.
“I’ve come for my daughter.”
“*Mine*. You wanted her dead. Leave.”
“I’ve no one left,” Sophia wept. “My eldest lives in Sweden; the younger died in a crash. Sam left me. Let her study in London—I’ll never tell her the truth. Just… let me be near her.”
Emily refused—then recalled *her* pleas years ago. She held Sophia as they cried.
Sophia lavished Alice with gifts, praising London’s wonders. Alice refused to go—until Emily nudged: “Just visit. You can return.”
On departure day, Alice vanished—found hiding in the cellar. Sophia left alone.
Emily confessed to her husband. “She’s suffered enough. Alice can choose.”
Sophia returned, persuading Alice to study in London. After graduation, Alice married, had a daughter—Agatha. Sophia, once reluctant to mother, doted on her “grandchild.”
Emily visited often. Agatha grew up adored by *three* grandmothers.
One day, the truth would surface. But for now, love—however tangled—was enough.
**Lesson:** Life rarely unfolds as planned. Sometimes, the greatest love is the one that begins with sacrifice—and endures in silence.
