— In Our Family, Four Generations of Men Worked on the Railways! And What Did You Bring? — “A Little Girl, Galina,” Anna Whispered, Stroking Her Bump. — “We’ll Call Her Galina.” — “Another Girl? Is This a Joke?” snapped Mrs. Osborne, Tossing the Scan Results on the Table. — “A Family of Railwaymen for Four Generations—And You Bring Us That?” — “Galina,” Anna Repeated Quietly. — “We’re Naming Her Galina.” — “Well, at Least the Name Is Sensible. But What Good Will She Be? Who Will Ever Want Your Galina?” Max Stayed Silent, Glued to His Phone. When His Wife Asked His Opinion, He Just Shrugged: — “It Is What It Is. Maybe Next Time We’ll Have a Boy.” Anna Felt Something Clench Inside. “Next Time? Is This Baby Just a Rehearsal?” Galina Was Born in January—Tiny, Wide-Eyed, with a Shock of Dark Hair. Max Showed Up Just for the Discharge, Bringing Carnations and a Bag of Baby Clothes. — “She’s Beautiful,” He Said Cautiously, Leaning Over the Pram. — “Looks Like You.” — “But She’s Got Your Nose,” Anna Smiled. — “And Your Stubborn Chin.” — “Oh, They All Look Alike at That Age,” Max Shrugged. Mrs. Osborne Met Them at Home, Face Sour. — “Neighbour Val asked if it was a grandson or granddaughter. Embarrassing to answer—Me, playing with dolls at my age…” Anna Locked Herself in the Nursery and Cried, Hugging Her Daughter. Max Worked Longer Hours, Picking Up Overtime on Other Shifts. “Family’s Expensive, Especially With a Kid,” He’d Say. He Came Home Late, Tired, and Barely Spoke. — “She Waits for You,” Anna Told Him When He Walked Past the Nursery, Not Even Looking In. — “Galina Brightens Up Whenever She Hears Your Footsteps.” — “I’m Tired, Anna. Early Start Tomorrow.” — “But You Haven’t Even Said Hello…” — “She’s Too Young. She Won’t Understand.” But Galina Did. Anna Saw How Her Daughter Turned Her Head Toward the Door When She Heard Dad’s Steps, and Stared Long After They’d Gone. At Eight Months, Galina Fell Ill. The Fever Shot Up to Thirty-Nine, Then Forty. Anna Woke Max: — “Get Up—Galina’s Really Unwell!” — “What Time Is It?” He Grumbled. — “Just After Seven. I Haven’t Slept a Wink. We Need the Hospital!” — “So Early? Maybe Wait ‘til Evening? Important Shift Today…” Anna Looked at Him Like He Was a Stranger. — “Your Daughter’s Burning Up and You’re Worried About Work?” — “She’s Not Dying! Kids Get Sick.” Anna Ordered a Taxi Herself. At the Hospital, Doctors Put Galina in Infectious Diseases, Suspecting Serious Inflammation—She Needed a Spinal Tap. — “Where’s the Father?” the Consultant Asked. — “Both Parents Need to Consent.” — “He’s… at Work. He’ll Be Here Soon.” Anna Rang Max All Day. No Signal. He Finally Answered Near 7pm. — “I’m at the Depot, Busy…” — “Max, Galina’s Got Suspected Meningitis! They Need Your Consent—NOW!” — “What, a Spinal Tap? I Don’t Get…” — “Come Here—Please!” — “Can’t—Shift Ends at Eleven. And Then I’m Out With the Lads…” Anna Hung Up. She Signed the Consent Alone—as the Mother, She Was Entitled. The Tap Was Done Under General Anaesthetic. Galina Looked So Small on That Big Trolley. — “Results Tomorrow,” Said the Doctor. — “If It’s Meningitis, Treatment’ll Be Long. Six Weeks in Hospital.” Anna Slept the Night There. Galina Lay Pale Under a Drip, Her Chest Rising Weakly. Max Appeared at Lunch Next Day—Unshaven, Rumpled. — “So… How Is She?” He Asked, Hovering in the Doorway. — “Not Good,” Anna Replied Briefly. “We’re Waiting for Results.” — “What Did They… Do?” — “A Lumbar Puncture. Took Fluid From Her Back.” Max Blanched. — “Did It Hurt?” — “She Was Asleep. Didn’t Feel a Thing.” He Stood Silent By the Cot. Galina Slept, Tiny Hand Wrapped With Tape for Her Cannula. — “She’s… So Small,” Max Whispered. “I Didn’t Think…” Anna Didn’t Reply. Good News—No Meningitis. Just a Nasty Virus, Treatable at Home. — “You Got Lucky,” Said the Doctor. “Another Day or Two—It Would Have Been Worse.” On the Way Home, Max Was Quiet. Just Before They Arrived, He Asked Softly: — “Am I Really a Bad Father?” Anna Shifted Her Sleeping Daughter and Looked at Him. — “What Do You Think?” — “I Thought There Was Plenty of Time. She Was So Little, Didn’t Know Anything. But When I Saw Her There, With Tubes… I Realised I Could Lose Her. And That I Have So Much to Lose.” — “Max, She Needs a Father,” Anna Said. “Not Just a Breadwinner. A Dad Who Knows Her Name and Her Favourite Toys.” — “What Are They?” He Whispered. — “Her Rubber Hedgehog and Rattle With Bells. She Always Crawls To The Door When She Hears You. She Waits For You To Pick Her Up.” Max Lowered His Head. — “I Didn’t Know…” — “You Do Now.” At Home, Galina Woke and Cried—Thin and Sad. Max Reached for Her, Then Hesitated. — “May I?” — “She’s Your Daughter.” He Picked Her Up Gently. The Little Girl Quietened, Gaze Locked On His Face. — “Hello, Darling,” Max Whispered. “Sorry I Wasn’t There When You Needed Me.” Galina Reached Out and Touched His Cheek. Max Felt His Throat Tighten. — “Daddy,” Galina Said Suddenly—Her First Word. Max Looked at Anna, Eyes Wide. — “She… She Said…” — “She’s Been Saying It a Week,” Anna Smiled. “Just—Only When You’re Not Home. Maybe She Was Waiting for the Right Moment.” That Night, Galina Slept In Dad’s Arms. Max Carried Her To Bed, Hesitating To Loosen Her Grip on His Finger. — “She Doesn’t Want To Let Go,” Max Murmured. — “She’s Afraid You’ll Disappear Again,” Anna Explained. He Sat By Her Cot Half an Hour, Not Daring to Move. — “Tomorrow I’ll Take The Day Off,” He Told Anna. “And The Day After, Too. I Want… I Want To Get To Know My Daughter.” — “What About Work? The Extra Shifts?” — “We’ll Manage. Or Live More Simply. The Most Important Thing Is Not To Miss Her Growing Up.” Anna Hugged Him. — “Better Late Than Never.” — “I’d Never Forgive Myself If Something Happened—And I Didn’t Even Know Her Favourite Toys…” Max Whispered, Watching Galina Sleep. “Or That She Could Already Say ‘Daddy’.” A Week Later, When Galina Was Well Again, The Three Of Them Went For A Walk In The Park. Galina Rode Her Father’s Shoulders, Laughing and Grabbing Autumn Leaves. — “Look, Galina! Isn’t That Beautiful?” Max Showed Her The Golden Maples. “And There’s a Squirrel!” Anna Walked Beside Them, Wondering How Sometimes It Takes Nearly Losing What You Love To Realise How Much It Means. Mrs. Osborne Met Them at Home, Still Grumbling. — “Max, Val’s Grandson’s Already Playing Football. And Yours—Just Plays with Dolls.” — “My Daughter’s the Best in the World,” Max Replied, Calmly Sitting Galina Down and Handing Her the Rubber Hedgehog. “And Dolls Are Marvellous.” — “But The Family Line Will End…” — “No, It Won’t. It’ll Continue. Just Differently.” Mrs. Osborne Was About To Argue, But Galina Crawled Over and Reached Up To Her. — “Gran!” Said Galina, Smiling Wide. The Mother-in-Law, Flustered, Took Her Granddaughter In Her Arms. — “She… She Can Talk!” — “Our Galina’s Very Clever,” Max Said Proudly. “Aren’t You, Love?” — “Daddy!” Galina Clapped Her Hands, Beaming. Anna Watched and Thought How Sometimes Happiness Only Comes After a Test—And That the Deepest Love Isn’t Instant, But Ripens Slowly, Through Fear and Pain. That Evening, As Max Sang His Daughter a Lullaby—Voice Rough, Quiet—Galina Listened, Eyes Wide and Bright. — “You’ve Never Sung to Her Before,” Anna Noted. — “There’s a Lot I Never Did,” Max Replied. “But Now I’ve Got Time to Make It Up.” Galina Fell Asleep, Still Clutching Her Father’s Finger. And Max Didn’t Pull Away—Sitting In The Dark, Listening To Her Breathing, Remembering How Much You Can Miss If You Don’t Stop To Notice What Really Matters. And As Galina Slept, She Smiled—Because Now She Knew For Certain: Her Daddy Wasn’t Going Anywhere. This Story Was Sent In By One Of Our Readers. Sometimes, Fate Needs Not Just a Choice, but a Great Trial, to Awaken the Brightest Feelings in a Person. Do You Believe People Can Truly Change When They Realise They’re About To Lose What Matters Most?

Four generations of men in our family have worked for the railways! And what have you brought us? Emily, Anna replied quietly, gently stroking her bump. Well call her Emily.

Another girl? Is this some kind of joke? Barbara threw the ultrasound scan onto the table. Four generations of men on the railways, and you bring us

Emily, Anna said, softly, holding her stomach. Were going to call her Emily.

Emily Barbara drew the name out. Well, at least thats a proper name. But whats the point? Whos going to care about your Emily?

James just kept staring at his phone in silence. When Anna asked him what he thought, he simply shrugged:

It is what it is. Maybe next time itll be a boy.

Anna felt her heart clench. Next time? And what about this tiny one, is she just a practice run?

Emily was born in January a little thing with huge eyes and a thick mop of dark hair. James showed up for the discharge from hospital, handed over some carnations and a bag of baby things.

Shes cute, he said, peering gingerly into the pram. Looks like you.

But shes got your nose, Anna smiled. And your stubborn chin.

Oh, come off it, James brushed her off. Babies look the same at that age.

Barbara welcomed them home with a face like thunder.

The neighbour, Valerie, asked if it was a grandson or a granddaughter. I was embarrassed to tell her, she grumbled. At my age, playing with dolls

Anna shut herself in the nursery and quietly wept, clutching her daughter close.

James started working more and more. Overtime at other depots, more night shifts. Said family life was expensive, especially with a baby. He came home late, always exhausted and withdrawn.

She waits for you, you know, Anna would say, as James walked past the nursery without even glancing in. Emily lights up whenever she hears your footsteps.

Im knackered, Anna. Ive got an early start.

But you didnt even say hello to her.

Shes small, she wont understand.

But Emily did understand. Anna could see how her daughters head turned when she heard her dad, and then how she stared into the empty space after his steps faded away.

When Emily was eight months old, she got ill. First, her temperature shot up to thirty-eight, then thirty-nine. Anna called for the GP, but he said for now, just keep her hydrated and on paracetamol. By morning, her temperature hit forty.

James, get up! Anna was shaking him awake. Emilys not well at all!

What time is it? James groaned, barely opening his eyes.

Seven. Ive been up with her all night. We need to get to the hospital!

This early? Cant we wait till tonight? Ive got an important shift today

Anna looked at him as if he were a stranger.

Your daughters burning up and youre thinking about your shift?

Shes not dying, is she? Kids get sick all the time.

Anna booked a taxi herself.

At the hospital, they took Emily straight into the childrens ward. There was talk of a serious infection she might need a lumbar puncture.

Wheres the father? the consultant asked. Both parents must consent for the procedure.

He hes at work. Hell be here soon.

Anna phoned James all day. His phone was off. Finally, at seven, he picked up.

Anna, Im at the depot, busy

James, they reckon its meningitis! They need your signature for the procedure! The doctors are waiting!

What? A what? I dont understand

Just come, please! Now!

I cant, my shifts till eleven. And then Im meant to meet the lads

Anna hung up, saying nothing.

She signed for the procedure herself as the mother, she had that right. They did the lumbar puncture under general anaesthetic. Emily looked so tiny on that big trolley.

Results tomorrow, the doctor said. If its meningitis, treatment will be long. Six weeks, at least, in hospital.

Anna stayed the night, sleeping in a plastic chair next to Emily as she lay pale and still, hooked up to a drip, her little chest rising and falling ever so gently.

James turned up at lunchtime the next day. Unshaven, crumpled.

So um how is she? he asked, hovering at the door.

Not good, Anna answered shortly. Were still waiting for the results.

What did they do to her? That thing

Lumbar puncture. They took some fluid from her spine to check.

James went white.

Did it hurt her?

She was under anaesthetic. She didnt feel it.

He stood by her cot, frozen. Emily slept, her tiny hand lying above the blanket, a cannula taped to her wrist.

Shes so small, James mumbled. I never thought

Anna said nothing.

The results came back good. No meningitis. Just a nasty viral infection, with complications. Home care would be enough, if the doctor kept an eye on her.

You were lucky, the consultant said. Wait another day or two, it could have been much worse.

On the way home, James said nothing. Only as they parked up, he asked quietly:

Am I am I really that bad? As a dad?

Anna adjusted the sleeping Emily and looked at him.

What do you think?

I just thought there was time. That she was too small to really get it. But when I saw her there, with all those tubes I realised I could lose her. And thats not something I want to lose.

James, she needs a dad. Not just someone who pays the bills. A dad who knows her name, who can tell you what her favourite toys are.

What are they? he whispered.

Her squeaky rubber hedgehog and the rattle with little bells. When you come home, she always crawls to the door. She waits for you to pick her up.

James lowered his head.

I didnt know

Well, now you do.

At home, Emily woke and started crying, high and pitiful. James reached out instinctively, then hesitated.

Can I? he asked Anna.

Shes your daughter.

He gently picked up Emily. She sniffled, then quietened, looking up at his face with big, serious eyes.

Hello there, little one, James whispered. Im so sorry I wasnt there when you needed me.

Emily reached up, touching his cheek with her tiny hand. James felt his throat tighten with an emotion hed never known.

Daddy, Emily said, clear as day.

It was her very first word.

James stared at Anna, wide-eyed.

Did she did she just?

Shes been saying it all week, Anna smiled. Just not when youre home. Maybe she was waiting for the right moment.

That evening, when Emily fell asleep on her dads shoulder, James carefully put her in her cot. She didnt stir, just gripped his finger tighter even in her sleep.

She doesnt want to let go, James said, surprised.

Shes worried youll disappear again, Anna told him.

He sat by the cot for half an hour, not daring to move his finger away.

Tomorrow Im taking the day off, he said to Anna. And maybe the day after as well. I want I want to actually get to know my daughter.

What about work? All those extra shifts?

Well find another way, or just live more simply. The main thing is not to miss her growing up.

Anna came over and put her arms around him.

Better late than never.

Id neverve forgiven myself if I hadnt known what her favourite toys were, James said quietly, watching Emily sleep. Or if she could say Daddy, and Id never heard it.

A week later, when Emily was well again, the three of them went for a walk in the park. Emily rode on her dads shoulders, giggling and grabbing at the autumn leaves.

Look, Emily, arent those maple leaves beautiful! James pointed out the yellow leaves. And theres a little squirrel!

Anna walked alongside, thinking how close you sometimes come to losing what matters most before realising how precious it truly is.

When they got home, Barbara was there with her usual disapproving look.

James, Valerie was saying her grandson already plays football. And yours just sits with her dolls.

James just smiled, sitting Emily on the floor and handing her her squeaky hedgehog.

My daughter is the best in the world, he said calmly. And theres nothing wrong with dolls.

But the family line will end

It wont end. Itll just carry on differently.

Barbara wanted to protest, but Emily crawled over to her, reaching up.

Gran! she said, beaming.

Barbara looked flustered as she picked Emily up.

She she can talk!

Our Emilys a clever one, James said proudly. Isnt that right, princess?

Daddy! Emily clapped her hands with delight.

Anna watched and thought about how sometimes happiness comes through trials. The deepest love isnt always instant it grows slowly, through fear and nearly losing what you cant live without.

That night, as James settled Emily to sleep, he hummed a lullaby. His voice was soft and slightly rough, but Emily watched him with wide eyes.

You never used to sing to her before, Anna remarked.

Theres a lot I never did before, James replied. But now, I want to make up for lost time.

Emily drifted off, still clutching her dads finger. And James just sat there in the dark, listening to her gentle breathing, thinking about how easy it is to miss out on everything if you dont stop and look at what truly matters.

And Emily smiled in her sleep sure that this time her dad wasnt going anywhere.

You know, one of our readers sent this story in. Sometimes, it takes a real test for someone to realise whats really important. Do you think people can change when they realise how close theyve come to losing what matters most?