**A Difficult Choice**
Walking through the park, Emily climbed onto the bridge and suddenly stopped, leaning over the railing to peer down. The river below was cold and darkperhaps not deep, but the thought of falling sent a shiver through her. Terrified by her own mind, she hurried on.
She was returning from her friend Sophies house, where shed spent the night after fleeing her own home during a terrible argument. Sophies mum, kind-hearted and warm, had welcomed her without question.
«Come in, Emily, love,» shed said, not pressing for answers about why her daughters friend had arrived so distressed.
Sophies mum, Margaret, understood. She fed the girls, served tea with biscuits, and sent them to bed. The next day was a Sunday, and Emily decided to return homeit wouldnt do to overstay her welcome.
«Thank you, Auntie Margaret,» she murmured before leaving. «Mum and Dad must be worried.»
Crossing the bridge, Emily noticed a small churchoddly, shed never paid attention to it before, though shed walked this way countless times. Compelled by something unseen, she stepped inside.
A service was underway, the pews sparsely filled. She moved forward, glancing aroundher first time in a church. A large painting caught her eye: a young woman cradling an infant. Emily couldnt look away. After a while, an elderly woman in a headscarf whispered beside her:
«Dont even think twice, love. Have the baby. Itll be alright.»
Emily startled. «How did you?»
«Oh, child,» the woman smiled, «Ive lived long enough to see what troubles a heart. Trust me. You wont regret it. No mother ever does.»
The priest chanted prayers, the old woman crossed herself, and Emily lingered a moment longer before stepping back into the world, her mind made up.
The day before, after lectures, she and Sophie had sat on a park bench, dreading home.
«So whatll you do?» Sophie pressed. «Keep it? Have you told Adam?»
«God, Sophie, let me breathe!» Emily sighed. Her thoughts were a fogsecond year at uni, and now this. Adam, her boyfriend since secondary school, had coldly refused the baby and cut her off.
«Mum will kill me,» Emily whispered. «Shes always been strict. And AdamI never thought hed abandon me like this.»
Sophie cursed Adams betrayal but faltered when speaking of Emilys mother, Patriciaa force unto herself.
«Patricia will rage, no doubt,» Sophie said hesitantly. «But what do *you* want?»
«What choice do I have?» Emily wiped her cheek. «I cant do this alone.»
That evening, the storm broke at home.
«How could you?» Patricia shrieked. «Second year at uni! Do you *ever* think? No babyI wont allow it!»
«Patricia, think what youre saying,» her father, George, cut in sharply.
«Stay out of this!» she snapped. «Wholl want her with a child and no degree? Adams goneshell ruin her life!»
«And what about *us*?» George countered. «Well help raise our grandchild.»
«Oh, *youll* help?» Patricia scoffed. «*You* wont be up at midnight with nappies! I refuse to be a grandmother at forty!»
Emily fled to Sophies, her parents still screaming.
—
She returned home to silence. Her father glanced up from his paper; her mother scowled from the kitchen.
«Youre back,» Patricia said coldly.
«Glad youre home, love,» George said gently. «Were you at Sophies?»
Emily stood firm. «Im keeping the baby. Thats final.»
The words hung, unargued.
Weeks later, as tensions eased, Sophies mother, Margaret, approached them in the park.
«Emily,» she said softly, «I know about the baby. Sophie told me. Pleasekeep it. Ill help. Adams a fool, but this child is family.»
Stunned, Emily listened as Margaret vowed supportmoral, financial. «My eldest cant conceive,» Margaret admitted. «This baby its a gift.»
—
Little Timothy arrived at the start of Emilys third year. Pink-cheeked and grinning, he became Georges joy and Margarets pride. Patricia, however, packed her bags before the birth.
«I wont be a nappy-bound grandmother,» she spat, leaving for a colleague shed long been seeinga secret George never suspected.
Emily juggled motherhood and studies with George and Margarets help. By the time Timothy turned one, life steadied. Adam enlisted, then chose to stay in the army»Maybe itll mature him,» Margaret sighed.
Years passed. Timothy started school. Emily met Oliver at worka tall, kind man who adored Timothy. George approved instantly; they shared alma maters and interests. Soon, Oliver became Timothys doting stepfather, and George a proud father-in-law.
One evening, walking the park with Oliver and Timothy, Emily rested a hand on her swelling belly. The setting sun painted the river gold, and Timothy, now five, pointed at the ducks with glee. Oliver squeezed her hand, his quiet presence a steady warmth beside her. As they passed the old church, Emily glanced at the steeple, remembering the woman in the headscarf, her words like a whisper on the breeze. She didnt know if it was faith or stubborn hope that had carried her, but looking at her sons laughter, her husbands smile, and feeling the new life within her, she knew one thing for certainshed chosen right.
