You lied to me! Nicholas stood in the middle of the living room, red-faced and fuming.
What are you on about?
You knew! You knew you couldnt have children, and you married me anyway!
Youll be the most beautiful bride, mum fussed with the veil, and Antonia smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
White dress, lacey sleeves, Nicholas in a serious-looking suit. Everything just as shed dreamed since she was fifteen: great love, a marvellous wedding, children. Lots of children. Nicholas wanted a son, she fancied a daughter, so theyd compromised at three, so no ones feelings would be wounded.
Ill be babysitting grandkids in a year, mum kept saying through tears.
Antonia believed every word.
The first months of marriage floated by in a rosy fog. Nicholas came home from work, she greeted him with dinner, theyd fall asleep in each others arms, and each morning, shed eye the calendar with baited breath. Late? No, false alarm. Another month. Still nothing.
By winter, Nicholas had given up asking Well? with that tiny glimmer of hope. Now he just watched in silence as Antonia left the bathroom.
Maybe we should see a doctor? she suggested in February, nearly a year in.
Its about time, Nicholas muttered, glued to his phone.
The clinic reeked of bleach and quiet despair. Antonia sat in the waiting room among women whose eyes had lost their shine, leafed through a magazine full of blissful mothers, and told herself there must be a mistake. She was fine. Just unlucky. For now.
Tests. Scans. More tests. Procedures whose names all blurred together, delivered by chilly receptionists, all too used to these faces.
Your chances for a natural pregnancy? About five percent, the doctor informed her, not looking up.
Antonia nodded, scribbling in her notebook, asking questionswhile inside, everything froze.
Treatment started in March. The changes werent far behind.
Crying again? Nicholas hovered in the doorway. His voice held annoyance, not concern.
Its the hormones.
Third month now? Maybe knock it off with the dramatics. Honestly, Im done with it.
She wanted to explain how therapy worked, how these things took time, how the doctors had said six months, maybe a year, for a result. But Nicholas was already gone, the door slammed for effect.
First round of IVF was scheduled for autumn. For two weeks, Antonia barely left her bed, petrified shed do something to ruin her miracle.
Negative result, said the nurse on the phone, like reading out the weather.
Antonia sank to the hallway floor and stayed there till Nicholas returned.
How much have we spent on this by now? he demanded without preamble, instead of asking after her.
I havent counted.
I have. Nearly forty thousand quid. And what for?
She didnt answerthere was nothing to say.
Another try. Now Nicholas didnt come home until after midnight, smelling suspiciously of unfamiliar perfume. Antonia didnt ask. She didnt want to know.
Another negative.
Maybe its time we stopped? Nicholas idly twisted his empty mug in his hands, sitting opposite her in the kitchen. How much more of this?
The doctors say third times usually the charm.
Doctors say whatever you pay them for!
She went through the third round all but alone. Nicholas worked late every evening, her friends stopped callingexhausted from offering support. Her mum wept down the phone, wailing about how unfair it was for someone so young and lovely.
When the nurse said sorry a third time, Antonia didnt even cry. The tears had run dry somewhere between the second batch of pills and Nicholass latest rant about money.
You lied to me!
Nicholas, crimson with anger, stood in the sitting room.
Excuse me?
You knew! You knew you couldnt have kids, but you married me!
I didnt know! They gave the diagnosis a year after the wedding, you were there
Dont lie to me! He strode towards her and she recoiled instinctively. You set this up! Found an idiot to marry you, thensurprise! No kids!
Nicholas, please
Enough! He snatched a vase and hurled it at the wall. I deserve a family! With children! Not this!
He pointed at her as if she were something unpleasant smeared on his shoe.
Arguments became daily routine. Nicholas would come home sulking, bark about nonsense: the remotes gone missing, the soups too salty, or she breathes too loudly.
Were getting divorced, he announced one morning, as if reporting the weather.
What? No! Nick, we could adopt, Ive been reading
I dont want someone elses kid! I want my own! And a wife who can bloody well have one for me!
Just give me one more chance. Please. I love you.
And I dont love you anymore.
He said it plainly, looking straight at her. That hurt more than any shouting ever could.
Im packing up, he declared on Friday night.
Antonia sat on the sofa, wrapped in a throw, silently watching him stuff shirts into his suitcase. He couldnt pack in silence, of course.
Im leaving because youre barren.
Nick kept twisting the knife.
Ill find myself a proper woman.
Antonia said nothing.
The flat fell silent when the door shut. Only then did she cryfor the first time in months, properly, huge sobs until her voice gave out.
The first weeks post-divorce blurred into one smudgy grey. Wake up. Tea. Back to bed. Sometimes she forgot to eat. Sometimes she lost track of what day it was.
Her mates dropped in, brought food, tidied up, tried for conversationshe nodded, agreed with everything, then retreated under her blanket and stared at the ceiling again.
But time ticked by. Day after day, week after week. Until one morning, Antonia woke up and thought: enough.
She showered, binned every last medication in the fridge, and signed up for the gym. At work, she asked for a difficult new projectthree months, all-consuming.
She started taking weekend trips. Oxford, York, the Lake District. Life plodded on.
She met Daniel at a bookshopboth reaching for the last copy of the latest Stephen King.
Ladies first, he smiled, letting go.
If I let you have it, will you invite me for coffee? Antonia blurted, surprising herself.
He laugheda sound so warm it thawed something inside her.
Over coffee, he told her about Daisyhis seven-year-old daughter, whom hed been raising alone for five years, since her mum passed away.
How hard those early months were, how Daisy called out for her mum every night, how hed learnt to do pigtails off YouTube.
Youre a good dad, Antonia said.
Im trying my best.
She refused to lie to him. By the third date, when it was clear Daniel wasnt a one-off, she told him the truth.
I cant have children. Official diagnosis, three failed IVFs, my ex left. If thats a dealbreaker, better you know now.
Daniel was quiet for a long time.
Ive got Daisy, he said finally. I only need you. Even if we never have children together.
But
Youll manage, he interrupted, a strange smile creeping in.
What do you mean?
To be a mum. You could do it, if you want. My own mum was told the same thing. And yethere I am. Miracles do happen, you know.
Daisy warmed up to her with surprising ease. At the first meeting, she was grumpy and monosyllabic, but when Antonia asked about her favourite book, Daisy lit up, chattering about Harry Potter for half an hour. Second visit, she took Antonias hand. Third timeasked for those plaits like Elsa has.
She likes you, Daniel noted. Shes never accepted anyone this quickly.
Two years went past in a blink. Antonia moved in, learned to make pancakes every Saturday, memorised every episode of Paw Patrol, and found it in herself to love againproperly, with no fear and no waiting for the rug to be pulled.
On New Years Eve, as the clock struck midnight, Antonia made a wish. Her lips whispered it out before shed even thoughtI want a baby.
Straight away, she panickedwhy poke at old scars?but her wish was out there, whizzing toward the stars.
A month later, she missed a period.
No way, she muttered, staring at two lines on the test. Dodgy kit.
Second test. Two lines.
Third! Fourth! Fifth!
Daniel she emerged from the bathroom, knees wobbling, I I think I dont know how this is possible
He understood before she could finish, swept her up, spun her around, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips.
I knew it! he kept repeating, beaming. Told youyou could do it!
The clinic staff eyed her like some medical mystery. They dug out her old records, re-read the tests, ran new ones.
This is impossible, the consultant said, shaking his head. With your diagnosis Ive never seen this in twenty years.
But am I really?
You are. Eight weeks. Everythings going perfectly.
Antonia laughedand it was the real sort, from the belly.
Four months later, in the supermarket, she bumped into one of Nicholass old mates.
Have you heard about Nick? he asked, eyeing Antonias rounded belly. Married a third time, apparently. Still nothing. Not a squeak.
Nothing?
Yeah, no kids. Not with the second wife, not the third. Doctors say its his problem, turns out. Funny, he always blamed you.
Antonia didnt know what to say. Inside, there was nothingnot triumph, not resentment. Just an empty space where love used to be.
Her son was born in August, on a bright, sunny morning. Daisy and Daniel waited in the corridor, Daisy absolutely frantic.
Can I hold him? Daisy asked, peeking in.
Careful, Antonia said, passing her the tiny bundle. Mind his head.
Daisy stared wide-eyed at her new brother, then looked up at Antonia.
Mum, is he always going to be this red? Mum
Antonia cried, Daniel pulled them both into a hug, and Daisy looked from her parents to her baby brother, baffled as to why everyone was blubbering.
It was only then that Antonia truly realised: sometimes, all it takes is the right person to believe in the impossible with you.
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