Tina and Brian were seen as the perfect couple. Both attractive, successful, and well-off, the only thing missing was a child. Doctors had given them little hope, offering only bleak diagnoses.
Yet they refused to give up. They prayed at church, visited holy sites, and sought help wherever they could. When they heard of an old healer in a nearby village, they rushed to see her. The woman assured them they would have a child—more than one, in fact—but not without pain and loss. She spoke at length, but Tina, overjoyed, barely listened, remembering only that she must keep faith.
“Why not just live for themselves? They’ve got money to travel, yet they make such a tragedy of it. Children are ungrateful—they won’t even bring you a glass of water in old age,” people whispered behind her back.
“She’s too old anyway. Should be thinking of grandchildren by now,” others muttered. But how could there be grandchildren without children?
Once, Tina told Brian he was free to leave, to find a younger woman who could give him the family he wanted. The look he gave her made her regret the words instantly, and she never brought it up again.
They had everything—careers, a home, financial security—but it wasn’t enough for happiness. Tina knew she’d be the best mother in the world. She imagined cradling a tiny child, watching first steps, school days… Sometimes she tried to convince herself: “People live full lives without children. Maybe it’s just fate. If God hasn’t given us one, perhaps we’re not meant to have one.” She searched for faults in herself, reasons she might be punished.
Perhaps their prayers were answered, or perhaps their patience and faith moved Heaven itself. One day, the miracle they’d longed for arrived.
Tina had long stopped tracking her cycles, so when nausea struck one morning, she blamed something she’d eaten. But it returned the next day. Then, while cooking soup, the smell of meat made her queasy. Could it be…? No, surely not. Still, she bought two tests from the chemist.
How often do we pray for miracles, only to doubt them when they come? Tina stared at the two pink lines in disbelief. She barely waited for Brian to step through the door before blurting, “I’m pregnant,” thrusting the test at him.
They clung to each other, holding tight until their joyful tears dried. Brian wouldn’t let her lift anything, not even groceries, fussing over her constantly.
“Stop hovering. Women older than me have babies all the time,” Tina snapped once.
“I don’t care about other women. You’re my only concern. I won’t risk anything happening to you or our child,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”
When her bump showed, reactions were mixed. Some genuinely celebrated with them; others couldn’t hide their disapproval.
“Finally did IVF, then?”
“She’ll lose it, or it’ll be born wrong,” a neighbour muttered on a bench outside. Tina hurried away, stroking her belly. “Don’t listen to them. You’ll be the most beautiful, clever little girl.” She already knew it would be a daughter.
Tina, who once avoided baby sections, now boldly shopped for the finest clothes, unfolding them at home, imagining her little girl in them. The tiny outfits smelled of new fabric, but they were hers.
When the time came, they booked the best private hospital for a C-section, unwilling to risk anything after waiting so long. Their daughter was born healthy, and not a day passed without them whispering thanks for their blessing.
Tina had no milk, so they bought the best formula. They spent hours watching her sleep, then celebrated first teeth, first words, first steps. Brian urged Tina not to return to work. He earned enough—she should stay home.
“No nurseries. She’ll just catch every bug there.”
Their daughter became Tina’s whole world. Alice grew up loved, beautiful, and well-behaved, never causing trouble.
Happiness, once new, soon feels ordinary. Alice was in school now. One evening, as she did homework, Brian read the paper, and Tina cooked, she realised she’d forgotten the mayo.
“Brian, just popping to the shop,” she said.
He grunted, absorbed in the sports section.
When she returned, she finished dinner, then called Alice—but she wasn’t home.
“Brian, where’s Alice?”
“Ran over to Emily’s for a bit.”
“How long ago?”
“Right after you left.”
Tina checked the clock—half six. They say mothers sense disaster, but she felt nothing. Emily lived next door—no reason to worry.
They ate without her. Then Tina rang Emily’s landline. Her mother answered.
“Hello, it’s Alice’s mum. Time she came home.”
“She’s not here. We thought you’d kept her back.”
“What?” The phone slipped from Tina’s hand. Brian sprang up.
“Alice never went to Emily’s,” she whispered.
They tore through the streets, shouting her name. Autumn darkness fell fast. No one had seen her. Alice had vanished. Brian called the police.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find her. Go home in case she turns up,” the officer said gently.
They waited, jumping at every call. Alice never came home. Days of searching yielded nothing.
Tina clung to hope, refusing to imagine the worst. Months passed. She and Brian stopped speaking, unable to bear the mirrored despair in each other’s eyes.
Brian aged overnight, shoulders heavy. He worked late, finding grief easier alone. Tina buried herself in her job, but colleagues’ talk of children’s Christmas gifts sent her fleeing the room.
“Must we pretend we’ve no kids because of her?” they grumbled.
At home, she raged at Brian. “This is your fault! Why did you let her go?” He never defended himself, just drank more, then left to live with his mother. Tina didn’t stop him. Alone, at least she didn’t have to face his brokenness.
Three years later, an early spring brought her outside. Sunlight warmed her face as she walked by the river. A man played fetch with his German Shepherd, ruffling its ears. Alice had wanted a pet, but they’d delayed—Brian disliked small dogs, Tina feared big ones like this.
“Maybe if we’d got one, she wouldn’t have gone to Emily’s,” she thought bitterly, still blaming Brian.
“Tina?”
She turned. The officer who’d searched for Alice stood there with the dog.
“Hello. Yours?” she asked stiffly.
“Meet Rex.” The dog studied her with wise eyes. She reached out.
“May I?”
“He’s gentle with women,” the man—Matthew—said.
They walked, and to her surprise, she spoke first. “Alice wanted a dog. We never agreed on a breed.”
Rex licked her hand.
“You’ve made a friend,” Matthew said. Then, quietly, “I lost my family too.”
His wife and son had been killed by a drunk driver. Colleagues gave him Rex to heal.
“I searched for your girl while grieving my own,” he said.
Shame washed over her—she’d thought him indifferent.
At his flat, he fumbled slicing cheese. She took over.
“Neat. A woman’s touch,” he said.
They talked, laughed. He drove her home, surprising her by remembering her address. For the first time in years, she didn’t dread the empty flat.
By September, golden leaves crunched underfoot. Tina’s birthday neared—her forty-fifth. On impulse, she bought wine, cake, and rang Matthew.
“Can you come? I don’t want to be alone.”
He arrived with roses, wine, and a watermelon. Laughter came easily.
“You think I’m awful, celebrating when she’s gone,” she said.
“I think I really want to kiss you,” he replied.
A month later, morning sickness struck. She bought a test, stunned by the result.
“You’re having a baby,” she whispered to Rex.
That evening, Matthew found her humming. “Win the lottery?”
“Better. We’re having a baby. A boy, I think.”
He held her tight. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”
Guilt flickered—how could she be so happy? But Alice’s photo on the wall seemed to smile. “You’ll have a brother. Are you pleased?”
Life had given her a second chance. Some losses never fade, but joy, once shattered, can bloom anew.
