The night settled over London like a shroud, heavy with the promise of sorrow. Thick clouds crept across the sky, burdened with the weight of shattered dreams. The car glided over rain-slicked roads, its headlights cutting through the gloom. Oliver gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Every bump in the road jarred him, not just in body but in soul, as if fate itself were hammering home its cruelty. Beside him, Emily sat slumped in her seat, her breath uneven. Her hand rested on her swollen bellya world of hope and fear cradled there. Her eyes, fixed on the murky sky outside, held no light. Only longing. A deep, aching void.
Ollie Her voice was barely a whisper, fragile as autumn leaves. Promise me something.
He nodded, eyes locked on the road, but every fibre of him tensed. This wasnt a request. It was a plea.
If if things go wrong dont blame her. Our little girl. She didnt ask for this. Just love her. For me. For us both.
Oliver clenched his jaw. He wanted to roar that everything would be fine, that theyd go home togetherhim, Emily, and their daughterto the house hed built with a nursery waiting, filled with stuffed animals and dreams. But the doctors words from six months ago echoed in his skull: *This pregnancy is like playing Russian roulette with five bullets. The odds are against her. This could kill her.* He remembered Emilys trembling hands when she heard it. The way shed looked at himnot afraid, but determined. *I want this, Ollie. I want to leave something of us behind.* He couldnt refuse her. Not because he was weak, but because he loved her too much to say no.
Em, he whispered, voice cracking. Were going home. All three of us. I swear it.
He said it with conviction, but inside, he was crumbling.
At the hospital, rain battered the windows like the sky was weeping. He helped her inside, feeling her tremblenot from cold, but from dread. She turned, pressed her forehead to his chest, and murmured:
*I love you. More than anything. Youre stronger than you know.*
That embrace lasted seconds but burned into his memory like the last flicker of light before darkness. Then they took her away, and he stood alone, drenched not by rain but by despair.
Half an hour later, a doctor appearedstern-faced, exhausted.
Its critical, he said bluntly. Her blood isnt clotting. Were doing all we can, but miracles dont happen here.
Oliver slumped onto the steps, numb. Time dragged like tar. He paced, prayed to anything listeningstars, fate, the universe itself. *Take me instead. Just save her.*
Then Sarah appeared. Emilys old friend from uni, a nurse in the childrens ward. Dark hair, weary eyes, the sharp scent of antiseptic clinging to her. She sat beside him, not asking*knowing*.
How is she?
He shook his head.
Bad.
Sarah sighed, not in pity, but frustration. She knew the risks. Knew she might leave you. Was it worth it?
Oliver flinched. Rage flared in his chesthow dare she? But grief stole his voice.
Come on, she said, tugging his arm. Lets get a drink. Waiting here will drive you mad.
He followed like a ghost. They bought cheap whisky at an off-licence, sat on a bench where the wind tossed crisp packets like confetti. She talked of nothingwork, weather, trivial things. Her voice was steady, medicinal. He clung to it.
He woke on his sofa, still in yesterdays clothes. His head throbbed. He grabbed his phone. The hospital. *Stable. But serious.* Not hopejust a delay. He bolted out the door.
Sarah met him at the hospital. I pulled strings. You can see her. Through the glass.
She led him past wails and sterile smells to a window. Behind itEmily. But not Emily. A ghost, pale as paper, tangled in tubes. The monitor beeped weakly. He knewthis wasnt a battle. It was surrender.
A day later, the call. The same doctor, avoiding his eyes.
*Im sorry. We couldnt stop the bleeding. We lost them both.*
The world shattered. Oliver lunged, grabbing the mans coat. *You couldve saved her! Id have paid anything!*
Orderlies dragged him off. The doctor straightened his coat. *Money cant fix this.*
Sarah handled everything. The funeral. The paperwork. The relatives. Oliver sat in their empty flat, surrounded by Emilyher scarf on the hook, her mug on the table. He couldnt speak. Couldnt cry. Just stared into the void.
Thenmemory surfaced. A fight, years ago. Hed stormed out, got drunk. Sarah was there. Comforted him. Led him home. One night of betrayal. The only one. Emily never knew. Now the guilt was a second coffin.
At the graveside, he couldnt look at her in the casket. He needed to remember her alive.
*Oliver! The wake!* Sarah called.
*Not going,* he said flatly.
At the gatea girl. Maybe eight. Ragged coat. Dirty hands. Eyes fierce.
*Mister!* She grabbed his sleeve. *Check the cameras! In the hospital! Theyll show you!*
He shoved money at her. Walked away.
Grief became fuel. He worked like a man possessed. His construction firm tripled. Money piled up. But he felt nothing. He barely went home. Mostlyto Sarahs. Her flat was blank. No memories. No ghosts. Easy. Too easy.
Slowly, her things invaded his home. A toothbrush. A dressing gown. A suitcase left for a few days that never left. Each one a nail in the coffin of his past.
One evening, he found Emilys photothe one that greeted him every morningshoved behind paperwork, like clutter. He wanted to scream. To put it back. But he stayed silent. Easier that way.
A year passed.
Sarah grew bolder. *Sell this place. Too many memories. Lets start fresh. Get married.*
He looked at her. Something inside recoiled. He didnt love her. She was a bandage on a wound that never healed.
Thenthe breaking point.
Half-asleep, he murmured: *Emily*
Sarah shoved him hard. *Her again?! Even dead, shes between us! She was selfish! Im better! I deserve this!*
Oliver stared. The mask slipped. This wasnt love. It was possession.
*Get out,* he said, icy calm. *Now.*
The door slammed. Silence.
Not peace. Emptiness.
He drove blindly. Ended up at the hospital.
And remembered the girls words: *Check the cameras.*
He found the night guard. Slid him cash. *I need footage. From last year.*
An hour later, they huddled over a screen. Grainy footage. The neonatal ward. A tiny bundlehis daughter. Alive.
ThenSarah. In scrubs. Glancing around. Swapping his living child for a stillborn. Walking out.
Olivers legs buckled. *Call the police.*
By morning, they had it all. Sarah had faked the death, sold the baby to an orphanage.
They found the girl from the cemeteryLily. An orphan. Adopted now.
*I heard Sarah talking,* she said. *No one believed me.*
Oliver fell to his knees. *Im sorry.*
At the orphanage, the director led him to a playroom.
A little girl sat there. Blonde curls. Serious eyes.
Emilys eyes.
She toddled to him. Raised her arms.
He held her. She smelled of innocence. Trust.
The ice in his heart cracked.
*Im taking her home,* he said.
He bought everythinga cot, toys, tiny dresses. The house breathed again.
Emilys photo went back on the table. *Forgive me.*
A week later, he hired the orphanage carerMaggie. *Be her nanny. Salarys triple.*
She agreed. Kindness settled into the house.
Six months on, he took Maggies hand.
*Ill always love Emily,* he said. *But my hearts learned to beat again.*
He opened a ring box.
*Marry me. Lets be a family.*
She nodded, tears shining.
Life stretched ahead.
Not perfect.
But real.
And finally, *his*.
