**The Return of My Son**
“Please, give me back my son. I’ll give you anything,” Nadine whispered, her voice breaking with desperation.
“Don’t worry about your father. He’s only forty-three. You think he’ll mourn your mother forever? Not a chance. Women outnumber men these days—someone will snatch him up soon enough. So come with me to London. Don’t hold him back from finding happiness. Or do you want him to be alone for the rest of his life?”
They lived in a small town outside London. When they were in their final year of school, Nadine’s mother was hit by a car. The loss crushed her and her father. Nadine took over the housework, but despite everything, she kept up with her studies and scored well on her A-levels.
Alice, meanwhile, dreamed of escaping their sleepy town for the city. She begged Nadine to join her.
“Dad’s still grieving. If I leave, what will happen to him? No, I won’t abandon him,” Nadine refused.
“He’ll manage! Trust me, with so many single women out there, some lonely soul will snap him up. Come to London—don’t stand in his way. Unless you *want* him to stay miserable forever?”
The coldness in Alice’s words stung, but there was truth to them. So Nadine spoke to her father.
“Go, love. I’ll be alright. London’s not the other side of the world. If it doesn’t work out, you can always come back. What’s here for you?”
So she went. She could have gone to university—she had the grades—but Alice barely scraped by. Not wanting to leave her friend behind, Nadine enrolled in a teaching college with her, planning to switch to an open university later.
At first, Nadine visited every weekend. But after New Year’s, she noticed her father had changed—brighter, tidier, with homemade soup in the fridge.
Hesitantly, he admitted, “The neighbor, Margaret, she’s been helping out…” Nadine reassured him, happy he wasn’t alone anymore. She stopped visiting as often, not wanting to intrude.
Alice, however, barely attended classes, spending nights clubbing with boys. Nadine covered for her, even helping her cheat through exams.
“You’re throwing everything away. What if you get kicked out—or *pregnant*?” Nadine pleaded.
“Relax, you sound like my mum. I’ve got it under control. And what about you and Michael? Still holding hands like schoolkids?” Alice laughed.
By the end of their second year, Alice barely passed—thanks to Nadine. Then, on the train home for summer, she dropped the truth.
“I’m pregnant.”
Nadine gasped. “I *warned* you. What are you going to do?”
“I’m not keeping it. Ask your dad for money. My mum would kill me if she found out.”
“Are you *insane*? What about contraception?”
Alice bit her lip. “I told the guy. He bolted. Mum raised me alone—she *begged* me not to make her mistakes.”
Nadine refused to help. Maybe motherhood would change Alice. But when they returned to London, it was too late for an abortion.
At Christmas, Alice stayed behind—her bump was too obvious. But her mother showed up unannounced. Alice hid, leaving Nadine to lie: “She’s tutoring at a children’s home.”
Later, Nadine scolded her. “Your mum brought *gifts*. She’d have shouted, then helped.”
Alice scoffed. “And if she’d seen *this*?” She gestured at her stomach. “I’ll give it up at the hospital. What am I supposed to do with a baby?”
“You *should* have thought of that sooner.”
“*You* take it if you care so much!” Alice snapped.
One winter night, Alice went into labor. Nadine called an ambulance.
“You bring that baby back here, and you’re out,” the dorm matron warned.
Three days later, Alice returned—alone.
“Where’s the baby?” Nadine demanded.
“*Drop it*,” Alice hissed and turned away.
A week later, she vanished. When Nadine called, Alice just laughed. “I’m fine. Enjoy studying, *Miss Perfect*.”
After graduation, Nadine returned home with the baby. Her father and Margaret had moved in together, but they cleared the flat next door for her.
Years passed. Nadine worked at a nursery, raising little Ethan. One snowy afternoon, she bumped into Alice—now polished, wealthy, with a husband in tow.
“Is that your son?” Alice asked, eyeing Ethan.
Nadine hurried away, praying Alice hadn’t seen his face. That night, the call came.
“Tell me the truth—is he *mine*?” Alice hissed.
“He’s *my* son,” Nadine shot back.
“You *lied*. I *knew* it. Meet me tomorrow.”
The next day, Alice dropped the bombshell.
“I can’t have kids now. Three miscarriages. My husband wants a son—*our* son. And Ethan’s *healthy*…”
Nadine bolted, grabbing Ethan.
Days later, Alice *stole* him—lying to the nursery staff, claiming to be Nadine’s sister.
Frantic, Nadine filed a police report. “She *abandoned* him! Now she’s kidnapped him!”
The officer shrugged. “She’s his mother—what’s the problem?”
Days of agony passed. Then Alice called.
“My husband’s making me return him. But *you* ruined my life,” she spat.
In the café, Nadine clutched Ethan as her father restrained Alice.
“You’ll never come near him again,” Nadine vowed.
Female friendships end when women compete—over men, over children. Alice *gave him up*—Nadine *was* his mother. And Ethan? He’d missed her every second.
