**Diary Entry**
Leaving the maternity centre, Emily slumped onto a bench and pulled her phone from her handbag. After a few rings, Daniel answered.
“Dan, why didnt you meet me?” she asked quietly.
“Im on my way, love! Traffic!” he blurted. Angry shouts and car horns blared in the background.
“Ive already left,” she said. “I couldnt stay there any longer.”
A sigh came through the line. He understood.
“Ill wait,” Emily murmured before hanging up.
Tucking the phone away, she exhaled and took in the scene around her. A crisp autumn breeze tugged golden leaves from the branches, and the sun warmed her skin, as though giving its last embrace before winter. It was the tail end of Indian summer. Mothers strolled with their children, soaking in the fleeting warmth. Kids tumbled laughing into piles of leaves, while the women chatted, sharing plans and proud stories of their little ones. The playground outside the centre was packedas if on purpose, as if to mock her.
Emily felt the lump in her throat return. Shed never bring her own child here. Because there would be no child. This was her fourth miscarriage. This time, shed been referred from a regular clinic to a specialist maternity centre. Daniel, her husband, hadnt hesitated to pay for the best care. Yet even here, the doctors had no answers. They were both perfectly healthycompatibility tests showed nothing wrong. “Recurrent pregnancy loss of unknown origin” still glared from her file, and her consultant had only offered quiet sympathy, urging her to “have faith.”
Her thoughts shattered when someone sat beside her. She turned. An elderly Romani woman in a long, patterned skirt and headscarf, heavy gold earrings dangling, studied her with knowing eyes.
“Youre sad, dear?” the woman began without preamble.
Emily nodded.
“Your little one didnt come this time either,” the woman said.
“How do you know that?” Emily asked, shockedthen wondered if the woman had connections at the centre. Now would come the talk of curses, hexes, demands for money
“Your dreams the answers there. Each time, before you lose the child, you have the same dream. Look closer. Theres a curse on you, girl. The child will show you. When its lifted, youll dream differently, and youll know its over.”
Emily gaped. Shed told no onenot even Danielabout the dreams.
Before she could speak, the woman stood abruptly and walked away, leaving without asking for a single pence.
***
A week earlier.
The same train station, the platform split in twoone side bright and welcoming, the other shadowed and grim.
Emily stood waiting, other women around her, all poised between light and dark.
A train whistle echoed. The rush of wind as it arrived nearly knocked her off balance.
Her heart pounded. The doors opened, and childrenboys and girls no older than threespilled out, running into their mothers arms.
On the dark side, children of all ages trudged onto the train, their faces streaked with tears.
Emily searched the windows anxiously. Some children, realising they wouldnt be met, drifted toward the darkened carriages.
Then she saw hera little girl with fair hair and green eyes, waving sadly. Something about her face felt achingly familiar. Love surged through Emily, so fierce she lunged forwardonly to be stopped by a conductor in a crisp white suit.
“You cant,” the woman said gently. “The child must come to you.”
But the girl didnt move. She mouthed words Emily understood instantly: *”Mummy, Ill come! Just not yet!”*
*”When?”* Emily cried.
*”When you free the bird!”* The girl held up her hand. A blue tit lay pierced through with a needle, blood dripping onto her palm. With a sigh, the child stepped back into the shadows.
The conductor boarded. The train pulled away, leaving the grieving women behind.
***
“Em, lovesnap out of it!” Daniels voice startled her.
She blinked, finding herself at home, staring at a painting across the rooma winter scene, two blue tits perched on a snow-dusted rowan branch. One of the birds had something glinting in its side.
“Everything alright?” Daniel touched her shoulder.
Emily gently brushed him off and approached the paintinga wedding gift from Daniels ex, Marianne, a peace offering after their messy fallout.
She turned it over. A needle was driven through the canvas, its tip barely visible, skewering one of the birds.
Goosebumps prickled her skin.
“What is that?” Daniel frowned.
“Mariannes handiwork,” Emily whispered.
“Shes not mine anymore,” he muttered.
“Doesnt matter. Its a curse.” She told him about the dreams, the Romani woman, the bird in the painting.
***
An hour later, they found the woman waiting outside the centre, as if expecting them.
“You knew?” Emily asked.
“Knew youd come. Found the thread?”
“With the needle still in it,” Emily said bitterly. “You know about these thingscan you help us? Well pay you.”
The woman smiled.
***
Five months later.
The same station. The same platform. But this time, Emily stood on the sunlit side, her heart racing as the train approached.
The conductor stepped out, radiant in her white suit.
And thenrunning, arms widecame the little girl, fair hair shining, green eyes bright. She crashed into Emilys embrace, their hearts beating as one.
A few more months. Thats all they had to wait.
After years of sorrow, it was nothing.
**Lesson learned: Some wounds are hidden, but once uncovered, even the deepest curses can be broken.**
