«Yvonne! Yv, whyve you stopped dead like that? Were gonna miss the film if you dont hurry! And we still need to grab popcorn,» called out her friend Emily.
Yvonne blinked, snapping out of it, her heart suddenly racing. «Huh?»
«Whats wrong with you? Come on, the others are waiting!» Emily said, a bit impatient now.
«Em listen, I dont feel right. You go aheadIll head back to halls,» Yvonne muttered.
«Should we call an ambulance? Youve gone proper pale,» Emily frowned.
«No, no just tell Oliver sorry for me, alright?» Yvonne tried to steady her voice, but it shook anyway.
«Fine, go lie down. Maybe exam stress is getting to you,» Emily sighed.
«Yeah maybe,» Yvonne forced a weak smile.
Emily left, glancing back a few times. Yvonne sank onto a bench, gulped some water, and wiped her face. The tightness in her chest eased slightly.
She hadnt told Emily what really shook her. It wasnt exams. Minutes earlier, a pregnant woman had walked past, pushing a pram with two toddlers in tow. Emily probably hadnt even noticedbut Yvonne had. Rubbing her cheeks, she let herself drift back ten years
«Yv, whyre you faffing with the dishes? Hurry up. I need you to run out for nappies,» her mum snapped, barging into the kitchen.
Yvonne dropped a plate. It clattered loudly in the sink. From the next room, baby George started wailing.
«Clumsy cow! Now go settle himI just got him down! Useless,» her mum yelled.
«Alright» Yvonne rasped, shuffling to the cot.
As the eldest in a house where Dad had left before she turned two, Yvonne was used to this. Mum cycled through men, having kids with each. The chores and childcarelooking after Sophie, Lily, little Tommy, and now Georgealways fell to her.
«He asleep?» Mum asked, cracking open a jar of jam.
«Mhm,» Yvonne whispered, turning back to the dishes.
«Leave those. Nappies first. You can finish after school.»
«But Im already lateMrs. Hughesll have my head,» Yvonne protested.
«Ten minutes wont kill you. I skipped school all the time, and lookstill standing,» Mum shrugged.
On her way back with the nappies, Yvonne bumped into classmates licking ice creams.
«Oi, Jess, lookits Mum-of-the-Year,» one sneered.
The nickname had stuck since Yvonne started dragging the pram around. She just wanted to be normalhanging out, going to the cinema, reading books, gossiping about boys. Not hauling nappies. She didnt hate her siblings but she resented Mum.
At eighteen, Yvonne craved escape: uni, moving to London. After Georges maternity leave, Mum went back to work.
Then one May morning, Mum looked queasy.
«You alright?» Yvonne asked.
«No. Make eggs. The smell of foods making me sick.»
«Whats wrong?» Yvonnes voice trembled.
«Honestly, youre so daft. Pregnant, arent I? Me and Dave are having another,» Mum said flatly.
«Why? Youre forty»
«Think I wanted this? Dave insisted. Hes moving in, too. Well have to squash up. Now go fry those eggs.»
That sealed it. Yvonne aced her A-levels, left in August, and never looked back.
In the city, Yvonne found freedom: a part-time job, friends, a promise to herselfno kids, ever. Just living for *her*.
«Miss? You okay?» A mans voice yanked her back.
«Sorrywhat?»
«You looked faint. Need help?»
«Just tired, I think.»
«Fancy a coffee? Theres a nice place round the corner,» he offered warmly.
She went. His name was Henry. They hit it off, started dating. But the longer they were together, the heavier Yvonnes dread grew. She mightve wanted marriagebut kids? Panic.
One evening, Henry took her to a fancy restaurant. She braced herself.
He slid over a velvet ring box.
«Yv, I love you. But before you say yes theres something you should know.»
«Yeah?» Her vision blurred with tears.
«I cant have children. Its definite. If you marry me, I need you to be sureno adoption, either. Im just not cut out for it.» His voice cracked.
«Ill marry you,» she blurted, crying properly now.
«Yvonne, think hard»
«I *have*. I dont want kids. Never have.»
They married. Moved to Bristol. Mum and the siblings dont even know where Yvonne is. She cut ties, finally happy with Henry.
Some might call it odd, but happiness is different for everyone. Their little house is warm, quiet. Henrys in finance; Yvonne runs the art studio shed always dreamed of. Evenings are tea on the balcony, chatting softly. No drama. No chaos.
Sometimes she thinks of her childhoodbut it doesnt hurt anymore. Its just part of her story, the one that led her here. And when Henry smiles at her, she knows: she chose right.
