Margaret Thompson leaned in with that insistent, almost demanding tone, eyeing the potential daughter-in-law. “Your relationship is getting quite serious, isn’t it? So, when’s the wedding, then?”
Emily forced a smile, picking her words carefully so as not to ruffle her future mother-in-law’s feathers. “It’s probably not the time yet. We’ve only been living together for a month. Better to wait, see how we get on with the day-to-day stuff… You never know, we might start bickering over the smallest things.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow but wasn’t about to let it go. Truth be told, she liked Emily a lot more than Oliver’s last girlfriend, Chloe that one was a nightmare, all attitude and no manners! Lucky Oliver had the sense to call it quits.
“And how’s young Harry getting on?” she asked, switching gears but keeping her eyes sharp. “He’s a grown lad now, but still…”
Emily’s heart warmed at the thought of Oliver’s son. She remembered those early days, fretting about how a teenager might react to a new woman in the house would he see her as some sort of threat trying to replace his mum?
“He’s brilliant,” Emily said sincerely, her smile turning genuine. “I was nervous at first, wondering if Harry would be standoffish or worse. But it’s worked out perfectly! He’s such an open and friendly kid!”
She paused, recalling how one day Harry came home from school, tried her baking, and announced that from now on, there’d always be decent grub at home.
“Plus,” Emily continued with a wry grin, “he was thrilled that someone who actually knows their way around the kitchen would be handling the meals, unlike his dad. He’s even asked me to show him a few tricks.”
Oliver, who’d been quiet till then, looked up and gave a short nod, a tiny smile flickering across his face clearly chuffed that things between his son and Emily were going so well.
“And he’s not asking for a little brother yet?” Margaret enquired, not so subtly.
Oliver winced and shot his mother a quick reproachful glance, his eyes saying “must we go there again?” He knew his mum’s ways she never shied away from the touchy subjects, oblivious to how awkward it made everyone.
“What’s wrong with that?” Margaret replied, unfazed, her voice bright and almost playful, as if chatting about the weather. “Harry loves kids, always mucking about with his cousins. And you’re only thirty-five plenty of time to have a couple!”
Emily felt a wave of discomfort. It was awkward discussing such private, sensitive matters with someone she hardly knew. She gripped her hands under the table, keeping her expression steady.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she said calmly, voice even. “The doctors have advised against me having children.”
A silence fell. Margaret’s eyebrows lifted as she processed it, her face shifting from friendly to cool and distant.
“Some women’s issue, is it?” she said with put-on sympathy, a trace of condescension creeping in. “But don’t lose hope medicine moves on. Things that seemed impossible are straightforward now.”
Emily sighed inwardly. She wanted to drop the subject, but knew silence wouldn’t cut it. She glanced at Oliver for backup, but he just shrugged, like “you’re on your own.”
“In my case, it wouldn’t work,” she said quietly, staring ahead. Honestly, why did she have to spill her guts to this virtual stranger? But clamming up might lead to wild assumptions… “I have serious eye problems. Diagnosed at eighteen I’ve accepted it by now: no kids for me.”
Margaret froze for a moment, genuinely puzzled. Her brows shot up, face showing real confusion like this was some baffling puzzle. “Whats vision got to do with it?” she asked, head tilted. She couldn’t see the link and wondered if it was just a feeble excuse. “I don’t follow.”
Emily took a deep breath, choosing words. She didn’t want to get into medical details, but couldn’t dodge.
“There’s a ninety percent chance I’ll lose my sight,” she explained steadily. “That kind of strain on the body is a no-go, far too risky! It’s not worth it. What good is having a child you might never even see?”
She stopped, letting it sink in. Emily fiddled with her glasses. She needed Margaret to get that this wasn’t some vanity thing or fad it was a real danger.
She could feel the disappointment building in the room. Margaret stopped trying to chat, just gave her occasional looks full of clear disapproval. Obviously, this wasn’t the daughter-in-law she’d pictured a robust woman ready to pop out grandchildren.
But Emily didn’t feel guilty or the need to justify. She and Oliver had talked it through ages ago, pros and cons. Doctor chats, late nights researching, honest talks all led to the same conclusion. The health risk was too high, and neither wanted to put her in danger. Worst case, they could look at adoption or a surrogate. Easy enough these days.
When they finally got ready to leave, the mood eased a tad. Margaret hugged her son, nodded at Emily, but it was more polite than warm. As they put on their shoes in the hallway, Emily caught Oliver’s eye a silent “sorry” there.
Out on the street, they both breathed easier. The evening air felt fresher after the tense chat. Emily took Oliver’s hand, and he squeezed back right away. They didn’t say a word about it, but both knew the parent meet hadn’t gone swimmingly. Still, it didn’t change the main thing their choice to stick together, no matter what others expected…
Three months on.
Emily had been feeling off lately. At first, she shrugged it off as work stress or a bug. But when it dragged on for days, worry crept in.
Constant mild weakness, morning queasiness, familiar smells turning her stomach. She tried handling it solo grabbed some remedies from the chemist, drank plenty of water, hit the sack earlier. No luck. She caught herself zoning out at work, and by evening she was knackered even if she’d not done much.
One evening, on the phone with her mum, Emily let slip about her woes. Her voice a bit flat from the lingering tiredness.
“Emily,” her mum asked after a pause, carefully, “you’re sure you’re not pregnant?”
Emily was taken aback. She paused, thinking, then replied confidently: “Completely! I’ve not missed a single pill. They were prescribed after a full check-up, followed to the letter.”
Her mum didn’t argue but pressed on: “Buy a test anyway, for your own peace of mind. This is too important to ignore.”
Emily wanted to protest it couldn’t be, but something in her mum’s tone made her think twice. A test was quick and simple, extra certainty wouldn’t hurt.
“Fine, Mum. I’ll pop to the chemist now. Oliver’s at work, so I’ve got time,” Emily said and hung up.
She grabbed her things, threw on a jacket, and headed out. The chemist was just round the corner five minutes’ walk. Emily walked a bit briskly, as if to outpace her thoughts. Questions looped: “What if Mum’s right? But how? Everything was under control…”
At the chemist, she paused before the test kits. Loads of options, different brands. Emily looked at the pharmacist, then the shelves. Finally, she picked two mid-range ones no point skimping. Paid up, pocketed them, and hurried home.
Back, she stopped in the hallway to steady her nerves. Hands shook a little as she unpacked the tests. Followed the instructions, then waited.
The first minutes dragged. Emily kept checking the clock, then the tests. And there two clear lines appeared. She checked the second same.
“How on earth?!” she blurted, a mix of confusion bubbling up. “This can’t be! I was so careful!”
Just then, the doorbell rang loudly. Emily jumped. Checked the time not expecting visitors. Then it hit her probably Harry, who often forgot his keys after school.
She quickly tossed the tests in the bin, fixed her hair, and dashed to the door. Opening it, there was a slightly out-of-breath Harry with his backpack.
“Forgot your keys again?” she smiled, letting him in.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded sheepishly, kicking off his trainers. “Rushed out, didn’t realise till I was halfway there…”
Emily hurried to the kitchen to feed the clearly hungry teen. She didn’t know yet that one test hadn’t made it to the bin and was lying traitorously on the floor…
“Oliver, I’m off to Mum’s for a week she’s under the weather,” Emily said, avoiding her fiancé’s eyes. Lying to someone she loved felt rotten, but she couldn’t spill the beans right now. And she couldn’t do otherwise! Health risks weren’t worth it; the decision was made…
Oliver looked up from his laptop, concern in his eyes.
“Need any help?” he offered right away. “Grab some medicine? Or come with you? Mum’s on her own…”
Emily smiled warmly, a touch guilty. His eagerness to help was touching, but it only made things trickier now.
“Nothing needed for now, thanks for offering,” she replied as calmly as she could. “I’ll call if anything comes up.”
She turned away and quickly packed a small overnight bag. Jumper, a pair of jeans, a few tops, underwear, toothbrush… Minutes ticked in her head the last bus to the next town over left in under an hour, and she still had to get to the station. Mum would meet her there, which was a small comfort: someone whod understand without too many questions.
“Keep in touch, yeah? Call straight away if you need anything. I can be there in no time.”
“Of course,” Emily nodded, giving him a quick hug. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
The journey to the station was a blur. She checked her phone constantly had Oliver texted, was Mum calling? Thoughts swirled, but she clung to the plan: get there, sort it out, come back. Then, once settled, talk to Oliver properly. Honestly, openly, no half-truths.
The next day, Emily went to a private clinic. She’d booked online, picked a doctor with good reviews, arranged everything to avoid awkward questions. The appointment was straightforward: exam, tests, ultrasound. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a calm voice, reviewed the results, checked dates, confirmed the history.
“Yes, you’re pregnant,” she confirmed finally. “Early stages, about five or six weeks.”
Emily nodded silently. Deep down, she’d hoped it was a mix-up, tests wrong, results swapped. But now it was clear.
“But I was taking the pills! How could this happen?” her voice wavered, full of bewilderment and barely contained emotion. How? She’d followed instructions to the T!
The doctor tilted her head slightly. She took her time, neatly stacking papers on the desk before looking up.
“Perhaps the pills weren’t up to standard,” she suggested in a professional tone. “Or something interfered with their effectiveness: like taking antibiotics or other meds at the same time, not sticking to the schedule, stomach issues. It happens, though rarely.”
She paused, watching Emily’s reaction, then continued gently: “From what I gather, you’re not planning to continue the pregnancy?”
Emily closed her eyes briefly. She’d asked herself this countless times lately. Memories of old doctors’ warnings about the risk flooded back. She sighed deeply and answered firmly: “The risk of losing my sight is nine to one. What do you think can I take that chance?”
The doctor nodded understandingly. She’d seen the patient’s notes and knew the risk was real. In this situation, Emily’s choice made sense.
“I understand,” she said softly. “It’s a big decision, and it’s your right to make it based on your health. I’ll write up some test referrals now. They’ll give a clearer picture and help plan the next steps.”
She turned to the computer, typed quickly, printed a few forms. Folding them neatly, she handed them to Emily.
“See you tomorrow for a follow-up. By then we’ll have the results and can discuss options. If any questions or concerns come up, ring the clinic and ask for me.”
Emily took the papers, absently smoothing them. Her thoughts were still racing but starting to organise. She thanked the doctor with a quick nod and stood up slowly. In the corridor, she paused, leaning against the wall, taking a deep breath in and out. Tomorrow was another day and another stage in this tricky situation…
“Emily!” Oliver’s voice boomed excitedly down the phone, so lively that Emily tensed up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emily felt everything inside tighten. She gripped the phone, trying to stop the sudden shake.
“Tell you what?” she asked warily, keeping her voice steady. Her mind raced: “Has he found out? But how?”
“That you’re pregnant!” Oliver said with genuine delight, sounding like he was already picturing their future.
Emily closed her eyes for a second to gather herself.
“What makes you think that?” she replied calmly, though her heart was pounding.
“Found a test with two lines on the floor,” Oliver explained, no doubt or worry in his tone just pure excitement. “I’ve booked you in with a top specialist. Shall we go together? I want to be there for you.”
Emily sighed deeply, choosing words. She needed to temper his enthusiasm without hurting him.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said gently but firmly. “It’s probably a mistake. Remember, I’m on the pills. Followed everything exactly, no misses. This just can’t be real.”
A pause on the line. Emily could almost feel Oliver processing.
“Well, about that…” he hesitated, a bit sheepish now. “You see, Mum popped round recently. Spotted your pills and started saying your condition isn’t that serious after all. Claimed loads of people have kids with much worse problems and it’s fine. Gave examples from friends, talked about modern pregnancy care… She was so insistent that… well, I caved.”
Oliver went quiet, waiting. Emily listened silently, a swirl of conflicting feelings. On one hand, she got that he wanted to believe in the best. On the other, it annoyed her that someone was meddling in their private life, deciding for her.
“So you’re saying she talked you into messing with my pills?” she clarified evenly, though inside she was fuming.
“No, of course not!” Oliver protested quickly. “Nothing like that. Just… she convinced me not to stick so rigidly to the instructions. That we could take a chance. I didn’t realise it might lead to this. Sorry.”
Emily felt a chill down her spine. Words stuck, but she managed: “What exactly did you do?”
Oliver looked down, nervously fiddling with the table edge. He felt awkward but pushed on: “I… accidentally dropped your bottle, and the pills spilled. Then I thought maybe it’s a sign? So I swapped them for vitamins. Wanted us to have a baby. Mum persuaded me everything would be okay…”
Emily froze, trying to take it in. It didn’t compute that the man she loved could do this. She’d explained so many times how crucial the daily meds were, what even one skip could mean, the potential fallout…
“Are you kidding?!” her voice cracked. She clenched her fists, anger rising. “You did this on purpose? Listened to your mum and swapped out the medicine?”
Oliver shifted uncomfortably, like he was looking for an out.
“I thought it would be better for our family…” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.
“For our family?!” Emily couldn’t hold back anymore. Her voice shook with anger, but she spoke clearly so he’d get it. “You didn’t even ask me! You knew about my diagnosis, the risks and you went ahead behind my back!”
She paused, trying to calm her trembling hands. Her temples throbbed, thoughts jumbled, but one thing clear: she couldn’t continue this chat now.
“I just wanted kids…” Oliver tried, his voice almost pleading. “Thought we could manage it all together.”
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself. She needed time to think, sort her head out.
“I can’t talk about this right now,” she said, calmer now, though emotions still raged inside. “Can you come the day after tomorrow? Meet me at the park around midday?”
“Sure, I’ll be there!” Oliver responded immediately, hope returning to his voice. “Everything will work out, I’m sure!”
Emily didn’t argue or explain. She just needed to end the call.
“See you then,” she said shortly and hung up.
Emily was seething! Her mind kept replaying Oliver’s words about “accidentally” dropping the bottle then deliberately swapping the vital meds for vitamins. He knew all the risks, the years of doctors’ warnings, how critical it was not to miss doses. But he’d chosen to believe his mum, who, without any medical background, confidently declared “it’ll all be fine.”
It burned inside. How could he take her health, her life, so lightly? Emily realised that with this kind of attitude towards basics like trust, respect, care there was no future for them. And the day after tomorrow, she was determined to make that clear.
On the appointed day, Oliver arrived at the park half an hour early. He’d bought a bunch of white roses her favourites and now paced nervously by the entrance, glancing at his watch. Hope flickered: maybe Emily had just been worked up, and now they’d talk it through, and he’d explain he meant well. He imagined her taking the flowers, her expression softening, them figuring it out together.
But when Emily showed up right on time, arm in arm with her brother, her face was icy and unreadable. She didn’t even glance at the flowers Oliver quickly offered. Instead, she silently pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and handed it to him.
“What’s this? I don’t understand,” Oliver stammered, thrown by her frosty tone. He tried to catch her eye, but Emily was looking elsewhere.
“It means there won’t be a baby,” she said coldly. “You knew my diagnosis. Knew and deliberately risked my health by listening to your mum. I’ll never forgive this! I’ll come for my things tomorrow. And I won’t be alone I’ll bring my brother to keep things straightforward.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked off. Oliver instinctively stepped after her, calling out:
“Emily, wait! Let’s talk!”
She didn’t turn, just sped up. So he rushed after her, no longer holding back his distress, but suddenly Ben Emily’s older brother blocked his path. Ben stood firm, feet planted, looking at Oliver without a shred of sympathy. His stance said loud and clear: “Don’t even think about following her.”
Oliver tried to sidestep, but Ben kept him at bay, hand slightly raised.
“You’re lying!” Oliver shouted, voice shaking with fury and desperation. He felt everything crumbling, the future he’d imagined slipping away. “I spoke to doctors specially! They said with today’s medicine the risks are tiny! You just don’t want a kid that’s why you’re making up excuses!”
Emily slowly turned. Her face was pale, but her expression stayed calm, almost detached. No tears just the resolve she’d built up over these days.
“You went to doctors without me? Talked about my health with strangers?” she said quietly, but each word landed like a punch. “Do you even know my exact diagnosis? Or did you just waltz in and say, ‘my fiancée reckons she might go blind’?”
Oliver flinched. He hadn’t expected that he’d thought his actions were understandable, that Emily would see his side. Clenching his fists, he tried to rally.
“I was thinking of our future! Our family!” his voice strained but sincere. “You said yourself you’d consider adoption or surrogacy. Why not give our own child a shot?”
Emily sighed deeply. Pain flashed in her eyes the kind she’d tried to hide behind her cold determination.
“Because this isn’t a game, Oliver!” emotion broke through for the first time. “This is my life, my body, my sight. Do you get that I could go blind? End up helpless, unable to work or look after myself? Have you thought what it’s like living in permanent darkness?”
She paused for him to take it in, but he was already opening his mouth to object.
“But the doctors said…”
“What doctors?!” she cut in sharply, bitterness in her voice. “The ones you saw on the sly? Did you even ask them about complication rates? Real cases? Do you know how many women with my condition lose their sight during pregnancy? No, you just heard what suited you!”
Oliver fell silent. His eyes still burned with hurt, but something else showed a vague realisation that he might have messed up badly.
“You betrayed my trust,” Emily continued, quieter but no less firm. “You knew how important those pills are to me. Knew I’ve spent years learning to live with this diagnosis, accepting it… And you wiped it all out with one action.”
At that, Ben stepped closer. The man’s hands itched to teach the ex-fiancé a lesson! But he held back, only because his sister had asked.
“I don’t want anything to do with you!” Emily straightened up, her voice cold and even again. “I don’t want to spend every day worrying you’ll pull another stunt!”
Oliver opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come. He looked at her, searching for any doubt, any chance to fix it! But there was only cold and disdain…
Emily turned and walked away. Oliver wanted to call after her but couldn’t. He stood watching her figure fade into the evening gloom. Beside her walked Ben silent, steady, like he was guarding her peace.
When they were out of sight, Oliver sank onto the nearest bench. He still clutched the bunch of white roses never given, never accepted…
He stared at the delicate petals and realised for the first time that he’d lost not just the child he’d wanted so much. He’d lost the woman he loved.
One thought hammered in his head: “What if she was right?” But it was already too late.Margaret Thompson leaned in with that insistent, almost demanding tone, eyeing the potential daughter-in-law. “Your relationship is getting quite serious, isn’t it? So, when’s the wedding, then?”
Emily forced a smile, picking her words carefully so as not to ruffle her future mother-in-law’s feathers. “It’s probably not the time yet. We’ve only been living together for a month. Better to wait, see how we get on with the day-to-day stuff… You never know, we might start bickering over the smallest things.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow but wasn’t about to let it go. Truth be told, she liked Emily a lot more than Oliver’s last girlfriend, Chloe that one was a nightmare, all attitude and no manners! Lucky Oliver had the sense to call it quits.
“And how’s young Harry getting on?” she asked, switching gears but keeping her eyes sharp. “He’s a grown lad now, but still…”
Emily’s heart warmed at the thought of Oliver’s son. She remembered those early days, fretting about how a teenager might react to a new woman in the house would he see her as some sort of threat trying to replace his mum?
“He’s brilliant,” Emily said sincerely, her smile turning genuine. “I was nervous at first, wondering if Harry would be standoffish or worse. But it’s worked out perfectly! He’s such an open and friendly kid!”
She paused, recalling how one day Harry came home from school, tried her baking, and announced that from now on, there’d always be decent grub at home.
“Plus,” Emily continued with a wry grin, “he was thrilled that someone who actually knows their way around the kitchen would be handling the meals, unlike his dad. He’s even asked me to show him a few tricks.”
Oliver, who’d been quiet till then, looked up and gave a short nod, a tiny smile flickering across his face clearly chuffed that things between his son and Emily were going so well.
“And he’s not asking for a little brother yet?” Margaret enquired, not so subtly.
Oliver winced and shot his mother a quick reproachful glance, his eyes saying “must we go there again?” He knew his mum’s ways she never shied away from the touchy subjects, oblivious to how awkward it made everyone.
“What’s wrong with that?” Margaret replied, unfazed, her voice bright and almost playful, as if chatting about the weather. “Harry loves kids, always mucking about with his cousins. And you’re only thirty-five plenty of time to have a couple!”
Emily felt a wave of discomfort. It was awkward discussing such private, sensitive matters with someone she hardly knew. She gripped her hands under the table, keeping her expression steady.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she said calmly, voice even. “The doctors have advised against me having children.”
A silence fell. Margaret’s eyebrows lifted as she processed it, her face shifting from friendly to cool and distant.
“Some women’s issue, is it?” she said with put-on sympathy, a trace of condescension creeping in. “But don’t lose hope medicine moves on. Things that seemed impossible are straightforward now.”
Emily sighed inwardly. She wanted to drop the subject, but knew silence wouldn’t cut it. She glanced at Oliver for backup, but he just shrugged, like “you’re on your own.”
“In my case, it wouldn’t work,” she said quietly, staring ahead. Honestly, why did she have to spill her guts to this virtual stranger? But clamming up might lead to wild assumptions… “I have serious eye problems. Diagnosed at eighteen I’ve accepted it by now: no kids for me.”
Margaret froze for a moment, genuinely puzzled. Her brows shot up, face showing real confusion like this was some baffling puzzle. “Whats vision got to do with it?” she asked, head tilted. She couldn’t see the link and wondered if it was just a feeble excuse. “I don’t follow.”
Emily took a deep breath, choosing words. She didn’t want to get into medical details, but couldn’t dodge.
“There’s a ninety percent chance I’ll lose my sight,” she explained steadily. “That kind of strain on the body is a no-go, far too risky! It’s not worth it. What good is having a child you might never even see?”
She stopped, letting it sink in. Emily fiddled with her glasses. She needed Margaret to get that this wasn’t some vanity thing or fad it was a real danger.
She could feel the disappointment building in the room. Margaret stopped trying to chat, just gave her occasional looks full of clear disapproval. Obviously, this wasn’t the daughter-in-law she’d pictured a robust woman ready to pop out grandchildren.
But Emily didn’t feel guilty or the need to justify. She and Oliver had talked it through ages ago, pros and cons. Doctor chats, late nights researching, honest talks all led to the same conclusion. The health risk was too high, and neither wanted to put her in danger. Worst case, they could look at adoption or a surrogate. Easy enough these days.
When they finally got ready to leave, the mood eased a tad. Margaret hugged her son, nodded at Emily, but it was more polite than warm. As they put on their shoes in the hallway, Emily caught Oliver’s eye a silent “sorry” there.
Out on the street, they both breathed easier. The evening air felt fresher after the tense chat. Emily took Oliver’s hand, and he squeezed back right away. They didn’t say a word about it, but both knew the parent meet hadn’t gone swimmingly. Still, it didn’t change the main thing their choice to stick together, no matter what others expected…
Three months on.
Emily had been feeling off lately. At first, she shrugged it off as work stress or a bug. But when it dragged on for days, worry crept in.
Constant mild weakness, morning queasiness, familiar smells turning her stomach. She tried handling it solo grabbed some remedies from the chemist, drank plenty of water, hit the sack earlier. No luck. She caught herself zoning out at work, and by evening she was knackered even if she’d not done much.
One evening, on the phone with her mum, Emily let slip about her woes. Her voice a bit flat from the lingering tiredness.
“Emily,” her mum asked after a pause, carefully, “you’re sure you’re not pregnant?”
Emily was taken aback. She paused, thinking, then replied confidently: “Completely! I’ve not missed a single pill. They were prescribed after a full check-up, followed to the letter.”
Her mum didn’t argue but pressed on: “Buy a test anyway, for your own peace of mind. This is too important to ignore.”
Emily wanted to protest it couldn’t be, but something in her mum’s tone made her think twice. A test was quick and simple, extra certainty wouldn’t hurt.
“Fine, Mum. I’ll pop to the chemist now. Oliver’s at work, so I’ve got time,” Emily said and hung up.
She grabbed her things, threw on a jacket, and headed out. The chemist was just round the corner five minutes’ walk. Emily walked a bit briskly, as if to outpace her thoughts. Questions looped: “What if Mum’s right? But how? Everything was under control…”
At the chemist, she paused before the test kits. Loads of options, different brands. Emily looked at the pharmacist, then the shelves. Finally, she picked two mid-range ones no point skimping. Paid up, pocketed them, and hurried home.
Back, she stopped in the hallway to steady her nerves. Hands shook a little as she unpacked the tests. Followed the instructions, then waited.
The first minutes dragged. Emily kept checking the clock, then the tests. And there two clear lines appeared. She checked the second same.
“How on earth?!” she blurted, a mix of confusion bubbling up. “This can’t be! I was so careful!”
Just then, the doorbell rang loudly. Emily jumped. Checked the time not expecting visitors. Then it hit her probably Harry, who often forgot his keys after school.
She quickly tossed the tests in the bin, fixed her hair, and dashed to the door. Opening it, there was a slightly out-of-breath Harry with his backpack.
“Forgot your keys again?” she smiled, letting him in.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded sheepishly, kicking off his trainers. “Rushed out, didn’t realise till I was halfway there…”
Emily hurried to the kitchen to feed the clearly hungry teen. She didn’t know yet that one test hadn’t made it to the bin and was lying traitorously on the floor…
“Oliver, I’m off to Mum’s for a week she’s under the weather,” Emily said, avoiding her fiancé’s eyes. Lying to someone she loved felt rotten, but she couldn’t spill the beans right now. And she couldn’t do otherwise! Health risks weren’t worth it; the decision was made…
Oliver looked up from his laptop, concern in his eyes.
“Need any help?” he offered right away. “Grab some medicine? Or come with you? Mum’s on her own…”
Emily smiled warmly, a touch guilty. His eagerness to help was touching, but it only made things trickier now.
“Nothing needed for now, thanks for offering,” she replied as calmly as she could. “I’ll call if anything comes up.”
She turned away and quickly packed a small overnight bag. Jumper, a pair of jeans, a few tops, underwear, toothbrush… Minutes ticked in her head the last bus to the next town over left in under an hour, and she still had to get to the station. Mum would meet her there, which was a small comfort: someone whod understand without too many questions.
“Keep in touch, yeah? Call straight away if you need anything. I can be there in no time.”
“Of course,” Emily nodded, giving him a quick hug. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
The journey to the station was a blur. She checked her phone constantly had Oliver texted, was Mum calling? Thoughts swirled, but she clung to the plan: get there, sort it out, come back. Then, once settled, talk to Oliver properly. Honestly, openly, no half-truths.
The next day, Emily went to a private clinic. She’d booked online, picked a doctor with good reviews, arranged everything to avoid awkward questions. The appointment was straightforward: exam, tests, ultrasound. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a calm voice, reviewed the results, checked dates, confirmed the history.
“Yes, you’re pregnant,” she confirmed finally. “Early stages, about five or six weeks.”
Emily nodded silently. Deep down, she’d hoped it was a mix-up, tests wrong, results swapped. But now it was clear.
“But I was taking the pills! How could this happen?” her voice wavered, full of bewilderment and barely contained emotion. How? She’d followed instructions to the T!
The doctor tilted her head slightly. She took her time, neatly stacking papers on the desk before looking up.
“Perhaps the pills weren’t up to standard,” she suggested in a professional tone. “Or something interfered with their effectiveness: like taking antibiotics or other meds at the same time, not sticking to the schedule, stomach issues. It happens, though rarely.”
She paused, watching Emily’s reaction, then continued gently: “From what I gather, you’re not planning to continue the pregnancy?”
Emily closed her eyes briefly. She’d asked herself this countless times lately. Memories of old doctors’ warnings about the risk flooded back. She sighed deeply and answered firmly: “The risk of losing my sight is nine to one. What do you think can I take that chance?”
The doctor nodded understandingly. She’d seen the patient’s notes and knew the risk was real. In this situation, Emily’s choice made sense.
“I understand,” she said softly. “It’s a big decision, and it’s your right to make it based on your health. I’ll write up some test referrals now. They’ll give a clearer picture and help plan the next steps.”
She turned to the computer, typed quickly, printed a few forms. Folding them neatly, she handed them to Emily.
“See you tomorrow for a follow-up. By then we’ll have the results and can discuss options. If any questions or concerns come up, ring the clinic and ask for me.”
Emily took the papers, absently smoothing them. Her thoughts were still racing but starting to organise. She thanked the doctor with a quick nod and stood up slowly. In the corridor, she paused, leaning against the wall, taking a deep breath in and out. Tomorrow was another day and another stage in this tricky situation…
“Emily!” Oliver’s voice boomed excitedly down the phone, so lively that Emily tensed up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emily felt everything inside tighten. She gripped the phone, trying to stop the sudden shake.
“Tell you what?” she asked warily, keeping her voice steady. Her mind raced: “Has he found out? But how?”
“That you’re pregnant!” Oliver said with genuine delight, sounding like he was already picturing their future.
Emily closed her eyes for a second to gather herself.
“What makes you think that?” she replied calmly, though her heart was pounding.
“Found a test with two lines on the floor,” Oliver explained, no doubt or worry in his tone just pure excitement. “I’ve booked you in with a top specialist. Shall we go together? I want to be there for you.”
Emily sighed deeply, choosing words. She needed to temper his enthusiasm without hurting him.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said gently but firmly. “It’s probably a mistake. Remember, I’m on the pills. Followed everything exactly, no misses. This just can’t be real.”
A pause on the line. Emily could almost feel Oliver processing.
“Well, about that…” he hesitated, a bit sheepish now. “You see, Mum popped round recently. Spotted your pills and started saying your condition isn’t that serious after all. Claimed loads of people have kids with much worse problems and it’s fine. Gave examples from friends, talked about modern pregnancy care… She was so insistent that… well, I caved.”
Oliver went quiet, waiting. Emily listened silently, a swirl of conflicting feelings. On one hand, she got that he wanted to believe in the best. On the other, it annoyed her that someone was meddling in their private life, deciding for her.
“So you’re saying she talked you into messing with my pills?” she clarified evenly, though inside she was fuming.
“No, of course not!” Oliver protested quickly. “Nothing like that. Just… she convinced me not to stick so rigidly to the instructions. That we could take a chance. I didn’t realise it might lead to this. Sorry.”
Emily felt a chill down her spine. Words stuck, but she managed: “What exactly did you do?”
Oliver looked down, nervously fiddling with the table edge. He felt awkward but pushed on: “I… accidentally dropped your bottle, and the pills spilled. Then I thought maybe it’s a sign? So I swapped them for vitamins. Wanted us to have a baby. Mum persuaded me everything would be okay…”
Emily froze, trying to take it in. It didn’t compute that the man she loved could do this. She’d explained so many times how crucial the daily meds were, what even one skip could mean, the potential fallout…
“Are you kidding?!” her voice cracked. She clenched her fists, anger rising. “You did this on purpose? Listened to your mum and swapped out the medicine?”
Oliver shifted uncomfortably, like he was looking for an out.
“I thought it would be better for our family…” he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.
“For our family?!” Emily couldn’t hold back anymore. Her voice shook with anger, but she spoke clearly so he’d get it. “You didn’t even ask me! You knew about my diagnosis, the risks and you went ahead behind my back!”
She paused, trying to calm her trembling hands. Her temples throbbed, thoughts jumbled, but one thing clear: she couldn’t continue this chat now.
“I just wanted kids…” Oliver tried, his voice almost pleading. “Thought we could manage it all together.”
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself. She needed time to think, sort her head out.
“I can’t talk about this right now,” she said, calmer now, though emotions still raged inside. “Can you come the day after tomorrow? Meet me at the park around midday?”
“Sure, I’ll be there!” Oliver responded immediately, hope returning to his voice. “Everything will work out, I’m sure!”
Emily didn’t argue or explain. She just needed to end the call.
“See you then,” she said shortly and hung up.
Emily was seething! Her mind kept replaying Oliver’s words about “accidentally” dropping the bottle then deliberately swapping the vital meds for vitamins. He knew all the risks, the years of doctors’ warnings, how critical it was not to miss doses. But he’d chosen to believe his mum, who, without any medical background, confidently declared “it’ll all be fine.”
It burned inside. How could he take her health, her life, so lightly? Emily realised that with this kind of attitude towards basics like trust, respect, care there was no future for them. And the day after tomorrow, she was determined to make that clear.
On the appointed day, Oliver arrived at the park half an hour early. He’d bought a bunch of white roses her favourites and now paced nervously by the entrance, glancing at his watch. Hope flickered: maybe Emily had just been worked up, and now they’d talk it through, and he’d explain he meant well. He imagined her taking the flowers, her expression softening, them figuring it out together.
But when Emily showed up right on time, arm in arm with her brother, her face was icy and unreadable. She didn’t even glance at the flowers Oliver quickly offered. Instead, she silently pulled a sheet of paper from her bag and handed it to him.
“What’s this? I don’t understand,” Oliver stammered, thrown by her frosty tone. He tried to catch her eye, but Emily was looking elsewhere.
“It means there won’t be a baby,” she said coldly. “You knew my diagnosis. Knew and deliberately risked my health by listening to your mum. I’ll never forgive this! I’ll come for my things tomorrow. And I won’t be alone I’ll bring my brother to keep things straightforward.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked off. Oliver instinctively stepped after her, calling out:
“Emily, wait! Let’s talk!”
She didn’t turn, just sped up. So he rushed after her, no longer holding back his distress, but suddenly Ben Emily’s older brother blocked his path. Ben stood firm, feet planted, looking at Oliver without a shred of sympathy. His stance said loud and clear: “Don’t even think about following her.”
Oliver tried to sidestep, but Ben kept him at bay, hand slightly raised.
“You’re lying!” Oliver shouted, voice shaking with fury and desperation. He felt everything crumbling, the future he’d imagined slipping away. “I spoke to doctors specially! They said with today’s medicine the risks are tiny! You just don’t want a kid that’s why you’re making up excuses!”
Emily slowly turned. Her face was pale, but her expression stayed calm, almost detached. No tears just the resolve she’d built up over these days.
“You went to doctors without me? Talked about my health with strangers?” she said quietly, but each word landed like a punch. “Do you even know my exact diagnosis? Or did you just waltz in and say, ‘my fiancée reckons she might go blind’?”
Oliver flinched. He hadn’t expected that he’d thought his actions were understandable, that Emily would see his side. Clenching his fists, he tried to rally.
“I was thinking of our future! Our family!” his voice strained but sincere. “You said yourself you’d consider adoption or surrogacy. Why not give our own child a shot?”
Emily sighed deeply. Pain flashed in her eyes the kind she’d tried to hide behind her cold determination.
“Because this isn’t a game, Oliver!” emotion broke through for the first time. “This is my life, my body, my sight. Do you get that I could go blind? End up helpless, unable to work or look after myself? Have you thought what it’s like living in permanent darkness?”
She paused for him to take it in, but he was already opening his mouth to object.
“But the doctors said…”
“What doctors?!” she cut in sharply, bitterness in her voice. “The ones you saw on the sly? Did you even ask them about complication rates? Real cases? Do you know how many women with my condition lose their sight during pregnancy? No, you just heard what suited you!”
Oliver fell silent. His eyes still burned with hurt, but something else showed a vague realisation that he might have messed up badly.
“You betrayed my trust,” Emily continued, quieter but no less firm. “You knew how important those pills are to me. Knew I’ve spent years learning to live with this diagnosis, accepting it… And you wiped it all out with one action.”
At that, Ben stepped closer. The man’s hands itched to teach the ex-fiancé a lesson! But he held back, only because his sister had asked.
“I don’t want anything to do with you!” Emily straightened up, her voice cold and even again. “I don’t want to spend every day worrying you’ll pull another stunt!”
Oliver opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come. He looked at her, searching for any doubt, any chance to fix it! But there was only cold and disdain…
Emily turned and walked away. Oliver wanted to call after her but couldn’t. He stood watching her figure fade into the evening gloom. Beside her walked Ben silent, steady, like he was guarding her peace.
When they were out of sight, Oliver sank onto the nearest bench. He still clutched the bunch of white roses never given, never accepted…
He stared at the delicate petals and realised for the first time that he’d lost not just the child he’d wanted so much. He’d lost the woman he loved.
One thought hammered in his head: “What if she was right?” But it was already too late.