“Just Give Her Time”
“Right. Either you help me strip Vicky of her parental rights, or I walk away, and you deal with this mess yourselves.”
“Natasha, have some mercy! Shes your sister! My daughter!” Mum threw her hands up, then clutched her chest.
“And what am I? Not your daughter?” Natashas voice cracked with hurt. “Sometimes I think I dont even matter to you… Cant you see whats happening? Ive grown to love little Alfie, and you Either help me, or Ill handle this alone. But I wont let it go.”
Mum looked away, torn. Dad kept stirring his dinner with a grim face. Realising shed lost, Natasha stood and walked to her room.
Clearly, her parents hadnt chosen her. Or Alfie.
She packed her few belongings, heart heavy but certainthis was necessary.
Then came the hardest part: tiny hands clinging to her legs, a childs sobs.
“Mummy, dont go…” Alfie begged, watching her pack.
That word*Mummy*cut deep. Natasha knelt, forcing a smile.
“Im not leaving *you*, Alfie,” she whispered, hugging him. “Im leaving so things can be better one day. Ill come back. For good.”
He wailed, not understanding why the aunt he saw as his mother was abandoning him. He clung until exhaustion took him, and only then could she slip out into the night.
In that moment, she hated Vicky. This was all her fault.
…Vicky had started her wild ways at sixteenlate nights, then days gone. Everyone knew what “friends” meant. Shed stumble home smeared with makeup, sometimes in tears, and Mum would fuss over her like she was made of glass.
A pregnancy was inevitable. At seventeen, Vicky got knocked upshe didnt even know the fathers last name. Just some “bloke from a party.”
Alfie arrived. Vicky quickly decided motherhood wasnt for her. Nights out became disappearances, then she vanished entirely.
“Im young. I wont throw my life away,” she told Natasha over the phone when pressed.
So the “life” fell to Natasha. Granddad barely noticed Alfie, buying the odd toy but little else. Grandma helped, but work kept her busy.
Natasha was eighteen. She switched to part-time studies to care for Alfie, becoming his second motherchristening him, waking nights for feeds, hauling his pram up stairs, studying after bedtime. She managed the house too; her parents worked.
It was brutal. By six months, shed adjusteduntil Vicky returned, weeping, on her knees.
“Forgive me, I was stupid… Ill change…”
They believed her. Even Natasha. For a month, Vicky doted on Alfie. Then, once the novelty faded, she boltedthis time with Mums jewellery.
“Shes struggling,” Mum insisted. “Shell come round. Just give her time.”
Natasha stopped believing. One time was chance; twice, a pattern. But where could she go? Her parents lived in denial, granting Vicky endless chances.
So Natasha enduredstudying, raising Alfie, taking him to nursery and doctors. She prayed Vicky wouldnt return.
Four years later, Vicky reappeared.
“I thought he loved me. Id take Alfie, wed be a family. But he used me… I had nothing, not even train fare…”
Natasha scoffed. “You look *starved*.”
Mum shot her a glare. Sympathy flowed to “poor Vicky.”
The worst came when Natasha brought Alfie home from nursery. Grandma pushed him toward Vicky. He cried, hiding behind Natasha.
“Dont be silly! This is your mum.”
“*Shes* not Mummy! *She* is!” He clung to Natasha.
“Natashas just your aunt. Vickys your real mum.”
Natashas heart shatteredfor Alfie, for the cruelty, for the cycle repeating.
And repeat it did.
Vicky leeched off them for two months, jobless.
“Whod hire me with Alfie? Its like maternity leave,” she snapped when Natasha asked her plans.
Then she vanished again. The truth came in photos with a new “boyfriend”a man twenty years older.
“Another drinking buddy,” Natasha thought. Hope died. But what could she do?
She confided in her friend, Nina.
“Easy. Strip her of rights. Social services will see shes absent. Then sort it.”
Natasha hesitated. “But Alfie might be taken”
“Or wait till Vicky wrecks his mind again. Is that what you want? And what about *you*? When do *you* live?”
Natasha had forgotten herself. Dates fled when they learned she had a “kid.” Only Alex, a classmate, stayed. After talking to Nina, she gave him a chance.
With him, she felt weightless. He listened. Helped.
When she gave her parents the ultimatum, she went to himnot for solutions, just comfort. But Alex surprised her.
“Move in with me. Maybe nows the time.”
“I cant. Alfie”
“So well be three.”
Natasha gaped.
“Hes not even yours”
“Nat,” he cut in, “I knew what I signed up for. If hes family to you, hes family to me.”
Something thawed in her. Hope flickered.
The next six months were hellsocial workers, paperwork. Worse, she couldnt take Alfie yet. He cried, waiting.
“You stole your sisters child!” Mum accused.
“Like she ever wanted him,” Natasha shot back.
Her parents barred her. She was the villainexcept to friends and Alex.
But after the storm, comes calm.
…Years later, Natasha watched Alfie teach little Lily to kick a ball. Alex squeezed her shoulder. She smiled. It had all been worth it.
She hadnt heard from Vicky latelydidnt care to. Nothing changed for her: men, parties. Losing Alfie was just another sob story.
Her parents never forgave her. Fine. Let them coddle Vicky.
Natasha would care for those who truly needed her.
(*Some storms clear the path for brighter days.*)
