“Oy, Jen! Jen, whyve you gone all rooted to the spot? Come on, well miss the film! We were meant to grab popcorn and all,” called her friend Chloe.
“Huh?” Jen blinked, her heart suddenly hammering as if shed just sprinted upstairs.
“Whats up with you? Lets go! The lads are already waiting,” Chloe huffed, tapping her foot.
“Honestly, Chlo, Im not feeling great. You go aheadIll head back to halls,” Jen mumbled.
“Dyou need an ambulance? Youve gone proper pale,” Chloe frowned.
“Nah, sfine. Just apologise to Stevie for me, yeah?” Jen forced a calm tone, but her voice wobbled like a washing machine on spin cycle.
“All right, then. Get some rest. Maybe its exam stress?” Chloe offered, already backing away.
“Yeah, probably,” Jen managed a weak chuckle.
Once Chloe had vanished, Jen slumped onto a bench, swigging water and wiping her face. The queasiness easedbut she hadnt told Chloe the real reason. Exams werent to blame.
Minutes earlier, a frazzled mum had bustled past with a pram and two toddlers in tow. Chloe hadnt batted an eyelid, but Jen Rubbing her cheeks, she was suddenly ten years back in her cramped childhood home.
—
“Jen! Whyre you faffing with the dishes? Need you to nip out for nappies,” her mum barked, barging into the kitchen.
Jen dropped a plate. It clattered into the sink. From the next room, baby Jake wailed.
“Oi, butterfingers! Now go settle himjust got him down, an all,” her mum snapped.
“Kay,” Jen croaked, shuffling off to the cot.
As the eldest in a dad-less household, Jen had been chief babysitter, cleaner, and errand-runner since she could reach the countertop. Mum cycled through blokes, each leaving behind a sibling: Lily, Mia, little Tommy, and now Jake.
“Asleep?” Mum called, cracking open a jar of jam.
“Mhm,” Jen whispered, returning to the dishes.
“Leave thosenappies first. You can finish after school.”
“Mum, Ill be late again. Mrs. Higginsll have my head.”
“Ten minutes wont kill you. I used to bunk off entirelyturned out fine, didnt I?” Mum shrugged.
Outside the shop, nappies in hand, Jen collided with classmates licking ice creams.
“Oi, lookits Mumzy!” one giggled.
The nickname had stuck since Year 7, when Jen started pushing prams instead of going to the park. Shed wanted sleepovers, cinema trips, gossipnot nappy runs. She didnt hate the kids, but Mum? That was another story.
At eighteen, Jen dreamed of escape: uni, a flat, a life where her time was her own. Mum had gone back to work after Jake. Then, one morning
“Mum, you alright? Youre green.”
“Peachy. Fry us some eggs, love. Feel too queasy to look at food.”
Jens stomach dropped. “Why?”
“Dont be daft. Me and Dave are having a baby. Hes moving in, so well need to squeeze up. Eggs, Jen.”
“But youre forty-two”
“Not my idea, was it? Daves dead set.”
That sealed it. Jen aced her A-levels, packed her bags, and left with a slammed door.
—
“Miss? You okay?” A blokes voice yanked her back to the present.
“Wha? Oh. Yeah, just knackered,” Jen lied.
“Fancy a coffee? Theres a decent spot round the corner.”
The strangerOliverwas charming. They hit it off, started dating. But as things got serious, Jen spiralled. Marriage? Maybe. Kids? Instant panic.
One evening, Oliver booked a fancy restaurant. Jen braced for a proposaland rehearsed her “no.”
He slid a velvet ring box across the table.
“Jen, I love you. But before you answer, theres something you should know.”
“Yeah?” Her vision blurred.
“I cant have kids. Full stop. If you marry me, thats itno IVF, no adoption. I need you to be sure.”
Jen burst into tears. “Yes.”
“Really?”
“Dead serious. Ive got my own reasonsnot now, but I dont want kids. Ever.”
They married, moved to Bristol. Mum and the sibs dont even have her address. Jens life now? Cosy. Olivers in finance; she runs a little art studio. Evenings are for tea on the balcony, no drama, no chaos.
Some folks dont get it. But Jen? Shes happy. Properly happy. And when she catches Oliver grinning at her, she knowsshe chose right. The past aches less now. Its just part of the road that led her here.
