12November2025
Today I sat by the kitchen window watching a gentle summer drizzle over the roofs of Manchester, the sun already peeking through the gray. Id just come home from the office and was about to start dinner when I heard Lucys footsteps in the hallway. She was still wet from the rain, hair dripping, and the house smelled faintly of wet pavement.
I couldnt help but think about how quickly my little girl has grown. She’s now dating a bloke called Mark, and Im not thrilled with him one bit. Hes a few years older, keeps his eyes down, and theres something off about him that I cant quite put my finger on. How do I tell Lucy that Im worried? Shes truly fallen in love for the first time, and if I try to break them up Ill become her number one enemy. Ive tried dropping hints that Mark isnt right for her, but she brushes them off as if they were nothing. If only Id known the proper way to say it.
I raised Lucy on my own; I was never married. Thats the way life turned out. When I was a thirdyear student at the University of Leeds, I dated a fellow student, Dave. He never finished his degree the university expelled him at the end of his third year. I was overjoyed at first because I thought I might be expecting a child with him and wanted to tell him the news.
Nothing else to think of, he snapped back, how would I know if that baby is mine? I dont want any children. And with that, he walked out of my life.
I was stunned. I never even got a chance to explain that Id never been with anyone else. He simply vanished, never looking my way again, flitting from one girl to another before being expelled.
When Lucy broke down in her room, my mother, Margaret, barged in. Whats happened, love? she asked, eyes cold as steel.
Dave left me and Im pregnant, Lucy sobbed.
Are you mad? Ive warned you a hundred times to think with your head! Youre only in your third year finish university, not raise a child. It will ruin your life and I wont be there to help you. Go to the GP and sort it yourself. Youre an adult now, you must answer for your own actions, Margaret snapped, her gaze cutting deeper than any words could.
Her ruthless stare hurt me more than any insult. I realised I couldnt count on any help from my own mother when she chose to push me to the brink.
The next morning I made an appointment at the local NHS clinic. The waiting room was almost empty. A young woman sat with a sixyearold daughter, her belly round and obvious. As the door opened and the next patient left, the woman stood, clutching her stomach.
Hold on a moment, love, Ill be quick, she whispered to her child.
The girl, freckled and bright, bounced her legs as she stared at me. When our eyes met she smiled.
Miss, why do you look so sad? Are you ill? she asked.
Nothings wrong, just life, I replied, not wanting to burden her with my troubles.
What about kids? Do you have any? she probed.
No, I answered.
Its a shame. My mum says children are pure happiness. She says Im her happiness, even when I get into mischief and she scolds me. She always says you must smile and never cry. Yesterday Tom tugged my braid so hard I cried, but Mum said I should smile. I did, and Tom gave me a sweet as a reward. Now were friends again, the little girl giggled.
Her innocent honesty struck a chord. For a moment I felt the weight of my worries lift.
What am I doing here? I whispered to myself. Dave may have walked away, my own mother may be against me, but I wont let that stop me from doing whats right.
Just then the mother of the little girl left the consultation room. She and her daughter exchanged a warm hug, handinhand, radiating a comfort that made my heart race. I rose abruptly, feeling an unbidden surge of energy, and left the clinic. My feet seemed to know where to go; they carried me straight to my grandmother Kates cottage in the countryside. Though Margaret never spoke to Kate after my divorce, I still visited her; Kate adored me like a grandson.
Come on, dear. If Mum objects, Ill help you. You can stay here if you need to. Youll manage, I promise, Kate said, patting my head. Her smile was a balm.
I awoke from the memory and spoke aloud, Grandma was right. Lucy is my joy, my whole world. I cant imagine life without her.
The key in the front door turned, and Lucy entered, eyes red from crying. She looked up at the hallway, bewildered.
Sweetheart, whats wrong? Sit down and tell me, I soothed, guiding her to a chair at the kitchen table.
Mark? she whispered, voice trembling.
Yes? I encouraged.
Hes married, she blurted, the words spilling like a dam breaking. She fell into a fresh wave of hysteria.
I handed her a glass of water. She drank greedily while I stroked her shoulder. Then I embraced her tightly, feeling her tears soak my shirt. Something inside me also wanted to cry, but I held her steady. Her eyes, swollen and red, began to settle.
She told me that Marks wife lived in Birmingham, and that his children were there too. Mark had been on a longterm work assignment in Manchester, renting a flat. Lucy had visited his place many times, never seeing any other woman. The truth surfaced when his wife, arriving unexpectedly, rummaged through his phone, read our messages, and found Lucys number.
Strangely, the revelation didnt feel like a tragedy to me; I was relieved. My gut had been right about Mark all along. I knew Lucy would find someone genuine eventually.
The wife called you? I asked.
Yes, she asked to meet. We met in a café near his flat. Shes pleasant, not the dramatic type. She simply asked that he leave me alone for the sake of his children. It hit me like a bolt from the blue, Lucy sobbed, then steadied herself.
Dont blame yourself, love. Hes a deceitful man, but thank heavens you discovered the truth. If youd known he was married, you wouldnt have stayed with him, I reassured her.
Exactly, Mum. I told his wife I wont contact him again and that Im cutting him off completely. Hes now on my blocked list, Lucy affirmed.
Good for you, I said, pride swelling my chest.
Yet another tear fell. Mum, theres something else Im pregnant, she whispered through sniffles.
How far along? I asked, keeping my voice calm.
About two months, she whispered, eyes dropping to the floor.
The news struck my heart like a cold wind. Everything was looping backmy own teen pregnancy, my mothers harshness, now my daughters similar plight. I realized how vital my support was now, more than ever.
Dont worry, love. Well get through this. Ill help you raise this child, whether its a boy or a girl. Well love him together, I promised, holding her hand.
Mum, youre the best, she said, a weak smile forming.
Time passed, and I stood in the nursery waiting for Lucys return with her newborn son, swaddled in a beige blanket with a blue ribbon. The room was festooned with balloons and flowers, Kates handiwork for her first grandchild. A tiny cot, a pram, and a few rattles filled the space. Lucy entered, eyes shining, and we exchanged smiles. Happiness had finally settled in our house.
The old saying holds true: those who are truly happy always wear a smile.
