**Diary Entry – 5th October**
*She Had Made Up Her Mind*
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Emily stood in the doorway, irritation barely concealed. “Have you forgotten what day it is?”
“What’s so special about today?” James didn’t even look up from the telly, lazily flicking through channels. “Are we going somewhere *again*?”
“We’re supposed to go to the hospital! Charlotte’s had her baby—you heard that, didn’t you? She’s the first of our lot to become a mum. We *have* to go and congratulate her!”
“Congratulate her on what?” James smirked, still thumbing the remote. “On sleepless nights? On a screaming infant? On her life no longer being her own? Hardly something to celebrate.”
“What on earth are you on about? *You* were the one who said you wanted kids! You went on about little feet running around the house. About tiny arms hugging your neck. You said—three, at least! Or was that all just a dream?”
“Yeah, I said it. But come on, it sounds good, doesn’t it? Women love that sort of thing. And look—you melted right into it,” he replied coolly.
Emily sank onto the sofa in silence, her face frozen with shock.
“I just don’t want kids. What’s the big deal? Most blokes don’t, deep down. Haven’t you ever thought about living for yourself? Travel, hobbies, freedom… But no—women always jump straight to babies, nappies, settling down.”
“Will you at least drive me?” Her voice turned icy. She couldn’t hide the hurt—not today of all days, when she’d planned to tell him *her* news.
“Can’t they manage without us? I’ve no interest in that soppy nonsense—cooing and crying. Go by yourself. Might change your mind about having one.”
Without another word, Emily walked into the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, dressed sharply, elegantly. She’d already called a cab—thank heavens she wouldn’t have to listen to James’ dark mutterings.
And to think she’d been so close to happiness… She’d seen those two pink lines on the test first thing that morning. She’d wanted to tell him over dinner, to gift him the news properly. But now… now she wasn’t sure he even *deserved* to know.
Emily had always valued stability. She’d worked through uni, graduated with honours, landed a good job—steady income, a flat of her own (thanks to her parents). She’d done *everything* right. And she was ready for a child. But the man she’d imagined as the father had turned out to be nothing but a convincing actor.
James had seemed mature, dependable, serious. His age, his words, his views—all had given her confidence. Only today had he finally dropped the act.
“I’ve made my decision,” she whispered into the quiet of the cab. The driver, an older man with a quiet demeanour, glanced at her, studied her face, and then—unexpectedly—said, “Congratulations.”
Emily faltered. She thanked him and hurried into the hospital. There stood Charlotte, glowing, a tiny bundle in her arms. The baby’s father cradled him close. The air was thick with love.
“Congrats, darling!” Emily hugged her friend. “What’s his name?”
“William. After my dad. And I want you to be godmother.”
“Of course,” Emily smiled, though her heart ached. Everything she wanted was right here—just not *hers*.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte murmured when they stepped aside.
“James lied. All this time. He *doesn’t* want kids. And I… I’m pregnant. Found out today. Now I’ve got to choose.”
“Em, men are ten a penny. But a chance at motherhood? That’s rare. My sister—she *can’t* have kids. She cried when she found out I was expecting. *Don’t* walk away from your dream.”
“I won’t. If he doesn’t change his mind, I’ll leave. My parents will be over the moon to be grandparents.”
James didn’t change his mind. He called children a burden, a waste of time, money, energy. Emily didn’t argue. Inside, she’d already decided.
**Three Years Later**
“James! Blimey!” A former neighbour nearly collided with him at the airport. “Congratulations on the little one!”
“You’ve got the wrong bloke. I don’t have kids,” he said stiffly.
“What? Saw Emily just last week—with a pram. Little lad, about four months? I *can* count, you know.”
James paled. He hadn’t known. Or hadn’t *let* himself know. Now… now it was too late.
“Where is she? Where did you see her?”
“Not telling. Just bumped into her. Didn’t realise you were the sort to… well. Walk away from your own.”
James stood frozen. Only now did it hit him—what he’d lost.
By the time he tracked Emily down three years later, it *was* too late. The boy called another man Dad. James couldn’t compete—not in love, not in action, not in heart.
The ending had been decided long ago. Emily had chosen wisely.
*Lesson learnt: Some chances don’t come twice. And when a man shows you who he is, believe him the first time.*
