“You decided to have a baby without a husband? Aren’t you ashamed, Mum?” Lily asked accusingly.
Right after prom night, Lily submitted her university applications. She had no doubts she’d get in—her A-level results were strong, more than enough for last year’s entry requirements.
That summer was blistering. Her best mate, Sophie, suggested a trip to her aunt’s in Brighton. Tempting—two or three weeks by the sea, no parents hovering, a taste of proper grown-up life. But as the departure day loomed, Lily grew restless. Not because it was her first time travelling without Mum. But because she’d be away from Ethan.
Ingrid, Lily’s mum, had just turned thirty-seven. She’d split with Lily’s dad when her daughter was three. Lily didn’t remember him—not that there was much to remember. Her parents had married young, barely knowing each other, and crumbled under the first real tests: sleepless nights, a crying baby, constant demands, empty wallets, and mutual blame.
When Lily grew up, Ingrid naturally tried dating again. But either the blokes weren’t keen on raising someone else’s kid, or Lily took an instant dislike to them.
Then, two years ago, Ethan appeared. He visited often—never staying the night, at least not that Lily noticed. He was funny, charming, brought her little gifts, and for her last birthday, a massive bouquet of red roses.
And Lily fell for him. Ethan was two years younger than Ingrid. Barely anything, but to Lily, it mattered. She decided he’d suit *her* far better than Mum. Every glance from him she took as interest, every chat as flirtation. Why not? She was eighteen—half her mum’s age. If it came to a choice, surely he’d pick *her*. So she thought. And she seethed with jealousy whenever he smiled at Ingrid.
Two weeks away, soaking up sun and sea, was two weeks for everything to change. What if he proposed? Then Ethan would be lost to her forever.
The night before the trip, Mum bustled in the kitchen while Lily agonised over confessing her feelings.
“Lily, pop to the shop? Forgot the cheese, and we’re low on mayo,” Ingrid called.
“Mum, I haven’t even packed!” Lily protested.
With a sigh, Ingrid went herself.
Minutes later, the doorbell rang. *Ethan.* Lily’s pulse shot up. Here was her chance—alone with him.
She played the gracious hostess, settling him on the sofa with small talk, then flicked on the telly and sat close. He gave her a side glance but didn’t shift away.
Their shoulders brushed, and Lily’s courage surged. Suddenly, she seized his arm, pressing closer. His cheek was inches from her lips. She’d never been this near, never caught his scent mixed with that expensive aftershave.
It intoxicated her. Boldness took over—she kissed his cheek.
Ethan didn’t flinch, just tilted his head and stood. Confusion flickered in his eyes, and shame flooded Lily. She’d imagined it all. To him, she was just Ingrid’s kid. Face burning, she stared at the floor.
The lock clicked. Any chance Ethan had to explain vanished as Ingrid hurried in, flushed from her dash.
“Ethan! You’re early. Blimey, I forgot the cheese, then remembered the mayo at checkout. My head’s scrambled with Lily leaving. Salad’s nearly done—dinner soon!” she chirped.
They exchanged a look so tender it stabbed Lily’s heart. He’d *never* looked at *her* like that. She bolted to her room.
“What’s got into her?” Ingrid asked, baffled. “Did something happen?”
“Hungry. What’s for dinner?” Ethan deftly changed the subject.
“You poor thing! Almost ready.” Ingrid disappeared into the kitchen but paused. “Oh—I’ve got news. Later.”
*News? Hope it’s good,* Ethan mused, still reeling from Lily’s kiss.
Meanwhile, Lily pressed her ear to the door, praying for *anything* to make him leave. Facing him now was unbearable.
At dinner, she avoided his gaze until she couldn’t. He acted like nothing happened—so she laughed along, pretending it was all normal. But that fleeting closeness still prickled under her skin.
“So, this news?” Ethan asked over tea.
“Patience!” Ingrid teased, fluttering her lashes.
Lily cringed. Mum acting like a giggly schoolgirl was *mortifying*.
“Lily’s off to Brighton tomorrow—all grown up. I’m nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t let her go?”
“I’m not *alone*, Mum. Sophie’s dad’s driving us. And her aunt’s there. God,” Lily snapped.
“Lily’s sensible. She’ll be fine,” Ethan said, and her heart stuttered. “Besides, what’s left in Manchester in summer?”
“Three whole weeks without me cramping your style,” Lily muttered, glaring.
“Lily! Enough. What’s wrong with you today?”
“*Nothing*.” She shoved her chair back—its screech on tile deliberate—and fled.
Voices murmured from the kitchen. Later, Ingrid knocked.
“Talk to me. This isn’t like you.” She perched on the bed. Lily curled away.
“Packed?”
*Obviously. Can’t you see the bloody rucksack?*
“Why are you angry?”
“You act… daft around him. Giggly. It’s *embarrassing*.”
“I’m not pretending. Love makes you silly. You’ll see.” Ingrid stroked her back. Lily shrugged her off.
“Is that all?”
“Look at me.”
Lily rolled over, eyes on the ceiling.
“I love you most in the world. Always. But… I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
“…Ethan’s?” Lily’s voice cracked.
“Yes.”
“You’re marrying him?”
“No. He’s married. But it doesn’t matter.”
“*Married?!* So you’re just… having a baby alone? That’s *disgraceful*!”
“Why? I’m an adult—”
“Would *you* be this chill if *I* said that?” Lily hissed. “Why won’t he leave his wife?”
“It’s complicated. Maybe after—”
“You *haven’t told him?*” Lily shot up. Their gazes locked until Ingrid looked away.
“I will. I didn’t want him to think I was trapping him.”
“Mum, you’ll be on maternity leave, I’ll be at uni—how will we *live*? Just… get rid of it.”
“Never. You’ll marry someday, but I’ll be alone—”
“You’ll have *grandkids*!” Lily’s voice broke. “He’s *never* leaving her. You *know* that. It’s *humiliating*.”
“I thought you’d…” Ingrid faltered.
“What? *Celebrate?* Your grandkid and son being *classmates*?”
Ingrid left without another word.
By morning, they barely spoke. Sophie’s dad arrived to drive them to the station. At the door, Lily almost begged Mum to reconsider—but stayed silent.
“Bye.”
“Call me!” Ingrid called after her.
The car ride was grim until Sophie’s chatter pulled her in. Why should mums dictate their daughters’ choices but not vice versa? If *she* were pregnant, Mum would *freak*. Fair’s fair. She didn’t text.
The beach was bliss—until, two weeks in, Lily missed Mum. Oddly, she’d stopped thinking about Ethan.
Back in August, tanned and glowing, Lily returned to find Ingrid home early, staring blankly in a black dress.
“Mum?”
No hug. No smile.
“Ethan’s dead. Car crash. Buried yesterday… I couldn’t even say goodbye.” Her voice was hollow.
Lily’s world tipped. “Where?”
“His parents’ plot… maybe.”
“Let’s go tomorrow.”
Ingrid’s eyes flickered. “Yes. I’ll tell him… He didn’t know. Stupid. I was scared he’d think… Now neither of us has him.”
“You never told him?”
A shake of the head.
“I loved him. But this baby… What’s the point without him?”
“Don’t say that! It’s *his* baby. We’ll manage—I’ll help.” Lily knelt, resting her head on Ingrid’s hands.
“You… don’t want me to end it?”
“*No.* I’m *sorry.*” Tears spilled. “You raised me alone. Now you’ve got *me*.”
Ingrid wept. They clung together—no more rivals, just family.
A month before the birth, Lily overheard two neighbours gossiping.
“Knocked up at her age! BetAnd when little Theodore—”Teddy,” as Lily called him—grew up with her mum’s laugh and Ethan’s eyes, she realized that love, messy and imperfect as it was, had knitted their little family together just fine in the end.
