The Weight of Choice
Walking through the park, Emily climbed the bridge and suddenly halted, stepping towards the railing to peer down. The river below was icy and darkperhaps not deep, but the thought of falling sent a shudder through her. She hurried away, unsettled by her own mind.
Shed just left her friend Sophies house, where shed stayed the night after fleeing home during a vicious row. Sophies mum, Irene, had welcomed her without question.
«Come in, love, Sophies in her room,» shed said, her voice warm. She didnt ask why Emily had shown up distraught. She knew. She fed the girls, made tea, and sent them to bed. The next morning, Emily decided to return homeshe couldnt overstay her welcome.
«Thanks, Aunt Irene. I should go. Mum and Dad must be worried,» she said, forcing a smile before leaving.
Crossing the bridge, Emily noticed a small churchodd, shed never paid it any mind before. Compelled, she stepped inside.
A quiet service was underway. Few were there. She moved forward, eyes landing on a large painting of a young woman cradling an infant. Emily couldnt look away.
Time blurred until a whisper broke her trance. An elderly woman in a headscarf leaned close.
«Dont think twice, love. Have the baby. Itll be alright.»
Emily startled. «How did you?»
«Child, Ive lived long enough to see what weighs on a heart,» the woman smiled. «Trust me. You wont regret it. Many have stood where you stand.»
The priests prayers hummed in the background. Emily lingered, then left, resolve hardening with every step.
*Whatever happens, happens.*
The day before, shed sat with Sophie on a park bench, dreading home.
«So, whatll you do? Keep it? Have you told Adam?» Sophie fired questions like bullets.
«Soph, *breathe*,» Emily muttered. Her thoughts were fog. Second year at uni, and now *this*.
«Mumll kill me,» she whispered. «Adam said hes not ready. Told me not to call again. After *years* togetherhe was my first.»
Sophie cursed Adams betrayal.
«Your mumll rant, sure,» she said, less certain, thinking of strict Margaret. «But what do *you* want?»
«What do *I* want?» Emily wiped a tear. «Im in no positionuni, no support. Its not even up to me.»
That evening, the storm broke at home.
«Have you lost your *mind*?» Margaret shrieked. «Second year! Were you *raised in a barn*? No child. Youre finishing uni. I wont let you ruin your life!»
«Margaret, think what youre saying,» her father, George, cut in.
«*You* stay out of this! Wholl raise it? *Me*! Im not spending my forties drowning in nappies!»
Emily fled to Sophies.
—
She returned to silence. George scrolled his phone; Margaret clattered pans.
«Back, then,» Margaret snapped.
«Love, youre home,» George said gently. «Were you at Sophies?»
«Yes.»
Emily stood firm. «Im keeping the baby. My choice.» Her voice didnt waver. Margaret said nothing.
Weeks later, Sophie and Emily sat in the park again. Adams mother, Helen, approached. Emily tensed.
«Girls, hello. Emilymay we talk?»
Helen sat beside her. «I know about the baby. Sophie told me. And Im glad she did.» She took Emilys hand. «Keep it. Ill helpfinancially, any way I can.»
Emily gaped.
«My sons a coward. But this babys *his*my grandchild. My daughter cant have children. Please. Let me be part of its life.»
Helens plea was raw. Emily believed her.
—
Tommy arrived at the start of Emilys third year. Rosy-cheeked, he charmed everyoneespecially Grandpa George and doting «Gran» Helen.
Margaret packed her bags before the birth.
«Enjoy your nappies. Im *not* a grandmother.»
She left for her long-time lovera colleague George never suspected. The betrayal shattered him.
Emily didnt take leave. George and Helen shouldered childcare, and she graduated. By Tommys first birthday, life steadied.
«Adam enlisted,» Helen shared once. «Maybe the armyll knock sense into him.»
Later, she added, «Hes staying on. Perhaps hes grown up after all.»
Years passed. Margaret never called.
—
Tommy started school. Emily introduced George to Oliver, her colleague.
«Dad, were serious.»
«Ill need to meet him.»
Olivertall, kind, thirtyshook Georges hand that evening.
«Good to meet you, sir.»
They talked for hours, discovering shared interestseven the same alma mater.
«Hes a good un,» George told Emily later. «Loves Tommy too.»
Soon, Tommy had a father, George a son-in-law. Helen, though fearing distance, remained close.
One evening, strolling with Oliver and Tommy, Emily rested a hand on her swelling belly.
*That woman in the church was right.*
No woman ever regretted her child.
Emily was happy. So was Oliveradoring his wife, eagerly awaiting their daughter.
