**Return at Any Cost**
The young father named his daughter Holly because she was born on a crisp winter’s day, with fat snowflakes drifting down outside.
*Just as light and delicate as my little girl*, thought Thomas as he drove to the hospital where his wife, Claire, had just given birth. A new life meant new responsibilities, but he welcomed them.
Claire adored the name—it suited their fair-haired, grey-eyed daughter perfectly.
Holly grew up wrapped in love. Her parents doted on their *Snowflake*, as her father often called her. At nearly six, she fancied herself quite grown-up, though their neighbour, Mrs. Cooper, still insisted on calling her *Muffin*.
“I’m *not* a baby,” Holly would protest, and the old woman would simply smile and nod.
One restless night, Holly lay awake listening to her parents’ hushed conversation. She loved eavesdropping—it always revealed something fascinating. This time, they were discussing her mother’s pregnancy. The family knew a baby boy was coming soon. Holly had even picked a name—*Teddy*, after the sweet boy at nursery who never got scolded. If he was kind, *all* boys named Teddy must be, she reasoned.
Her parents murmured words like *Caesarean*, and her father’s voice tensed.
“I’ve heard babies born that way sometimes lag behind. And you’ll have to go in early—who’ll look after Holly?”
“Tom, don’t borrow trouble,” Claire murmured.
Holly didn’t understand, but sleep dragged her under before she could wonder further. Another night, she overheard them planning her birthday.
“Let’s get her a gold necklace,” Claire suggested. “She’ll be a big sister soon—it’s time she felt grown-up.”
Her father hesitated. “Isn’t it too much?”
But Holly, thrilled, fell asleep dreaming of her gift.
On her birthday, Claire handed her a small velvet box, beaming despite clutching her swollen belly.
“Happy birthday, darling.”
Her father stood beside them, grinning.
Holly gasped as she opened it—a dainty golden locket. But before she could fasten it, her mother doubled over.
“Tom—the car! Fetch Mrs. Cooper for Holly—hurry!”
Holly’s joy soured. Her special day, ruined—and now she’d be stuck with *Mrs. Cooper*? No. She’d stay home alone if she had to.
Her parents left. Mrs. Cooper fussed over her all day, but by evening, the woman sighed.
“I’m too old for this back-and-forth. Come stay with me tonight. Your father will collect you later.”
Darkness swallowed the flat. Reluctantly, Holly agreed.
Her father returned only the next morning—hollow-eyed, grey.
“What happened?” Mrs. Cooper gasped.
Thomas’s silence spoke volumes.
“Daddy… where’s Teddy?”
“Gone,” he choked out. “Both of them.”
That night, the man who’d always forbidden her from their bed now pulled her close, tucking her under the blankets where Claire should’ve been. The scent of her mother still lingered on the pillow.
The funeral blurred in Holly’s memory. She remembered staring at her mother’s still, pale face in the hospital—no Teddy in sight.
Afterwards, she clutched her locket—only to realise one half was missing. Fresh grief seized her. The last gift from her mother—*lost*.
Three months crawled by. Thomas was a ghost of himself. No one knew the truth—that in his shock, he’d refused his son.
The matron had pleaded. *”He’s alive. You’re grieving, but there are options—family, a nanny. You don’t have to decide now.”*
“I’ve a six-year-old to raise alone. I can’t.”
Her voice turned icy. *”You’ll regret this. His records will be sealed. What name had you chosen?”*
“Teddy. *Theodore*. It’s what Holly wanted.”
Now, consumed by guilt, Thomas begged the matron for information. She refused.
Outside the hospital, a nurse hurried after him.
“I… know about your son.” Hope flared in his chest.
“The night your wife passed, another woman lost her baby. When she woke… they gave her yours.”
“Her name—address?”
“No. But I remember—it was *Holly*.”
He pressed money into her hands.
Dazed, he wandered until a jeweller’s shop caught his eye.
*Holly still wears that broken locket on a string. I should replace it.*
Inside, a young woman stood at the pawn counter.
“I found this—I can’t sell it, but I’ll buy it back later.”
The clerk’s voice carried. *”Holly Spencer, is it?”*
Thomas froze. *Holly?*
She turned—young, tired. In her palm lay half a locket, identical to his daughter’s.
“Excuse me—my little girl lost one just like that. Would you sell it to me?”
She hesitated. “I found it near the hospital. I—I need the money.”
He paid her double.
“I live nearby. Left my *Teddy* with a flatmate. He’s quiet—just three months old.”
*Teddy?*
His pulse hammered. *”Where do you live?”*
“A dorm. I’m in nursing school. My father would disown me if he knew…”
The pieces locked into place.
“Holly… I’ve a room to spare. My daughter’s your namesake. Come meet her.”
How she agreed, she’d never know. But they collected *Teddy* and drove home. When Holly saw the locket—then the baby—she shrieked with joy.
*”Mummy sent her! And Teddy’s real!”*
A DNA test confirmed the truth. Within a year, Thomas and Holly married.
“Now I’ve two Snowflakes,” he’d tease.
Holly adored her new mother—*Claire’s gift from heaven*, she decided. On her first day of school, she marched proudly, flanked by her parents, Teddy giggling in his pram.
Thomas cherished his son, now toddling to greet him after work.
They were whole again.
