Emily was curled up on the sofa, clutching her lower abdomen. Everything ached, throbbed, and reminded her of what was coming. The same thing every time: sharp pain, then bleeding, an ambulance, the hospital, and the hollow emptiness inside. It was a miscarriageno doubt about it. The third one in the last two years, after a stillbirth, and before that, an abortion. That abortion, the one she was still paying for with her inability to become a mother.
She reached for her phone and dialed emergency services. Half an hour later, they were loading her into the ambulance, and she managed to call Andrew to let him know she wouldnt be home for dinner.
“Again?” he asked, and Emily didnt even respond. Tears streamed down her cheekstears of despair and disappointment in herself. How many times would this happen? Why was it always the same? Or did she already know the reason? If she hadnt gone under the knife with that dodgy doctor back then, everything wouldve been fine. She and Andrew couldve had a five-year-old by now. But there was no child, and now it seemed like there never would be.
“It hurts so much,” she gasped, but the doctor just adjusted her IV and gave her a blank look.
Two days in the hospital dragged on painfully. Then came discharge, Andrew with a bouquet of roseslike clockwork.
“You look so pale,” he said, and Emily forced a weak smile. There was nothing to be happy about. She couldnt give her husband a child, and that was that.
On the drive home, fiddling with the bouquet in her hands, she turned to Andrew and said, “I dont want to try anymore. I cant give you a baby.”
“Dont say thatitll happen,” he tried to reassure her, but she just scoffed.
“Do you even believe that? Five years down the drain. Im nearly thirty, youre nearly thirty-five. Enough. Ive played at being a future mum long enough. The doctors say theres no chancemaybe its time we listened.”
“Em, well have children,” Andrew insisted. “Remember what Dr. Whitmore said? He told us theres still hope if we follow his advice.”
“And where is your Dr. Whitmore now?” Emily snapped. “Hes been dead for years. Where are those instructions Im supposed to follow? Gone with him! Thats it, Andrew. I dont want to torture youor myselfany longer.”
“What are you saying?” He frowned, keeping his eyes on the road.
She took a deep breath and turned her face away. “Lets split up. Youll meet someone who can give you a child. Youll be happy. I dont deserve you, your patience, or your kindness. Im empty. Life wont stay inside me. Im useless.”
Her voice cracked as tears welled up. Andrew took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Dont talk rubbish. Well manage. People live without kids all the timeso can we. Happiness isnt just about children.”
“Its about having them,” she whispered through tears. “Please, Andrew. Dont let me rob you of being a father.”
“Dont let me lose my family,” he cut in.
That was Andrewutterly in love with his wife, enduring her moods, willing to endure anything as long as she stayed. Hed fought hard to win her over, brushed off rivals, and once she became his wife, he decided nothing else was needed for his happiness. Well, maybe a tiny bundle of joybut fate kept denying them.
Andrew knew Emilys past. Knew shed been married off by her controlling father to an older man, knew about the botched abortion that had left her like this. None of it could be undone. Emily had cut ties with her father years ago, barely even knew her younger sister Sophie anymore.
“Wouldnt surprise me if Dad forces her into some sham marriage too, just for his own gain.”
Sophie was twenty-twobeautiful, clever, just like Emily, but more willing to bend to their fathers will. Hed raised them himselfhis ex-wives had no say. He pulled the strings, made every decision, ruled his daughters like he ruled his business.
Emily had escaped at twenty-four, met Andrew, and severed all ties. Her father forbade her from seeing Sophie, so when Sophie showed up on her doorstep, Emily was stunned.
“What happened?” she asked immediately, only then noticing her sisters swollen belly.
“I ran away,” Sophie sobbed, throwing her arms around Emily. It had only been a week since Emily came home from the hospital, just long enough to calm downand now this.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted He wanted me to have an abortion.”
“Oh my God, youre pregnant!” Emily gasped, looking her sister up and down. “With who?”
“It doesnt matter. Em, it doesnt. It was love. Hes marrieddoesnt want the baby. Dad said either I get rid of it, or hell drag me to a clinic himself.”
Emily cried with her. Sophie was so fragile, so helpless, so dear. They hadnt seen each other in over five years, and Sophie had blossomed from an awkward girl into a stunning woman. But her dependence on their father ruined everything, and Emily knew it wouldnt be long before Sophie wanted to go back. She couldnt let that happen.
Andrew took Sophies sudden arrival in stride. He never argued with Emilys decisions. He loved her too much to contradict her, and she never took advantage of that.
Sure enough, after a week, Sophie started fretting about their dad.
“Youre not going back!” Emily grabbed her sisters hands. “You want him to hurt you and the baby? If you wont think of yourself, think of your son!”
“Its too late for an abortionno doctor would touch me at twenty-one weeks.”
“But they could induce labor!” Emily shot back. “You wouldnt even know. Hed slip something in your tea, and youd just go into labour. Do you know what thats like? No, you dont. But I do!”
She broke down, and between sobs and pleading, convinced Sophie to stay. But the guilt gnawed at her sister, who still saw herself as the problem.
Sophie gave birth in July, then immediately talked about going home. Emily snatched the baby and held him tight.
“I wont let you take him to that monster! You want Dad to turn your son into another version of himself? If you want to gofine. But Im not giving up Jamie.”
Sophie shrugged.
“Fine. Dad only wanted me back, not the baby. And youre dead to him anywaytake the screaming brat.”
Emily knew it was just postpartum depression. In a month, maybe longer, Sophie would come back for her son. But holding that tiny, wriggling bundlesmelling his scent, hearing his little coosfilled her with such joy.
“You know shell take him eventually,” Andrew said gently. “Sooner or later, Sophie will come back.”
“I know,” Emily said, her heart breaking. On paper, three-month-old Jamie wasnt hers, and there was no guarantee his father wouldnt show up one day.
And then it happened. Her father called, screaming down the line.
“If you dont return my grandson, Ill tear you and that husband of yours apart!”
Emily listened, ice spreading through her veins. She braced for his arrival, wanting to grab Jamie, pack a bag, and flee. If not for Andrewready to protect her at any costshe wouldve. But the confrontation never came.
Instead, tragedy struck. Sophie and their father crashed their carboth dead on impact. Jamie stayed with Emily, and she began the long process of adopting him. No one else wanted himher one chance to be a mother. Her last chance. Andrew didnt object. They had no other options.
The paperwork dragged on. Emily ran from office to office, grieving Sophie, even pitying her father in a way. But now she had a childa son she could call her own. He already felt like family, so much like Sophie.
In the chaos, she forgot her regular gynaecologist appointment. The doctor scolded her, then suddenly asked,
“Waithave you missed your period?”
Emily shrugged. “Yeah, but with the stress, I didnt think”
“Stress? Take a test!”
Emily shook her head.
“Ultrasound. Now!”
It was the pregnancy shed waited forand not just pregnant, but twelve weeks along.
“Youve never made it this far,” the doctor said. “Thats a good sign. Bed rest.”
“What? Ive got a baby at home!”
“Youve got one inside you! Your husband can handle Jamie while you grow this one. Look at the screen! A healthy babythey deserve a chance.”
Emily agreed. Two months later, she left the hospital, pregnancy intact, hope restored. Andrew waited outside with flowers
