Sorry, but Im pregnant with your husbands child, confessed the best friend.
An ambercoloured autumn dusk soaked the kitchen with a honeyed glow. Eleanor stood at the window, lazily stirring her tea. The silver spoon clinked in the cup as her thoughts swirled around it. In the past few weeks something had felt offshe could sense it with a vague, sixthsense kind of certainty. Stephen had started staying later at the office, his replies grew clipped, his eyes darted away. Yesterday he didnt even make it home, citing a sudden business trip as his excuse.
The phone rang, tearing her reverie apart. The display read Natalie her mate of twenty years, a friendship forged back in their teachertraining days.
Ellen, we need to see each other, Natalie’s voice sounded unusually grave. Its urgent. Can I pop round?
Of course, Eleanor replied, a little taken aback by the insistence. Stephen isnt here, so well have privacy.
A pause, then Natalie whispered: Thats exactly why Im calling.
Eleanor brushed it off. She and Natalie shared everythingwork woes, broken hearts, triumphs. It was Natalie whod introduced her to Stephen at a graduation party fifteen years ago. Fifteen years of marriage, not all sunshine and roses, but mostly blissful, or so shed thought.
When the knock came, Eleanor had already laid out a tray of scones with clotted creamNatalie’s favouritestill warm and fragrant with vanilla.
Natalie entered looking pale, dark circles under her eyes, her makeup doing little to hide the exhaustion and jittery movements that screamed anxiety.
Whats happened? Eleanor asked, pulling her into a hug and leading her to the kitchen. You look knackered. Work trouble?
Natalie perched at the table but didnt touch her tea. She twiddled a napkin, as if gathering courage.
Ellen, I dont know how to start I have something to confess.
Eleanor sat opposite her, offering a reassuring smile. You know you can tell me anything. No matter what.
Natalie raised her eyes, a silent plea mixed with fear and guilt.
Sorry, but Im pregnant. With your husband, she blurted, then covered her face with her hands.
Time seemed to freeze. Eleanor stared, half expecting a prank, a nightmare, a misheard word. Then the odd patterns of the past months clicked into place: Stephens unexplained distance, his endless overtime, the tension that had settled over their home
What? Eleanor managed to sputter.
I know its horrible, Natalie said, dropping her hands, tears glistening on her cheeks. I never meant to hurt you. It was accidental. At the June office party, remember? You missed it because of the flu.
Eleanor recalled Stephens return at dawn, smelling of pricey brandy, regaling everyone with stories of a drunken boss dancing on tables. She had smiled, relieved he seemed happy.
It was just once? Eleanor asked, her voice sounding like someone elses.
Natalie looked away. No. We met a few more times. I know its unforgivable. I betrayed your trust, your friendship.
And Stephen? Does he know about the baby?
Yes. I told him last week. Hes stunned. He says he loves you, doesnt want to ruin the family, but he cant just abandon a child.
Eleanor rose and moved to the window. Outside, a centuriesold oak rustled its golden leaves. Shed watched that tree countless times while cooking dinner for Stephen, dreaming of a future with children that never materialised despite endless doctor visits. Now her husband was going to be a father to her best friends child.
Why are you telling me this? she asked without turning. What do you expect me to say?
I dont know, Natalie whispered. Maybe Im hoping for forgiveness, even though I dont deserve it. Or perhaps I just think you should hear it from me, not from the tabloids. Im ready to vanish from your lives. If you can forgive Stephen, Ill promise to never bother you again.
Dont, Eleanor cut in. Dont make promises you cant keep. Youll have his child. Youre linked forever, whether you like it or not.
She stared at Natalie, a woman who was simultaneously a familiar confidante and a stranger. All those evenings of hearttoheart talks suddenly seemed a lie.
I dont know what to say, Natalie. I need time to process this. Please, just go.
Natalie stood, hesitated, then said, Ellen, I
Just go. Now, Eleanor insisted.
When the door shut behind Natalie, Eleanor collapsed onto the kitchen floor, sobbing. Everything shed trustedher husband of fifteen years, her dear friendhad crumbled in an instant.
Stephen trudged home late. Eleanor sat in the darkened sitting room, lights off. He flicked the switch, froze at the doorway, eyes widening.
Ellen? Why are you sitting in the dark? Whats wrong?
She looked at himstill the man shed woken up to for a decade, his familiar features now tinged with foreignness. Natalie came over, she said flatly.
Stephens face went pale, his briefcase slipping from his grip.
What did she say?
That shes pregnant with you. That youve been seeing each other for months.
He shuffled to the armchair opposite her, sighing heavily.
I dont know what to say. Im to blame, thats true. But it isnt what you think.
What am I supposed to think, Stephen? That a few friendly drinks led to a baby?
No, of course not, he ran a hand over his cheek. Im not trying to justify anything. It started at that party. We drank too much, then we tried to forget it. But we met again, and it happened again.
How long did it go on?
About three months. Theres no excuse, but I never planned to leave you. It was a lapse, a foolish mistake, not love.
And now? Eleanor asked. Now youll have a childthe very child we both dreamed of but never got.
Stephens voice cracked. I know how painful this is for you. All those years we tried, all those hopes
Dont bring that up, Eleanor snapped. Dont talk about our hopes. You shattered them.
What do you want me to do? he asked quietly.
What do you want to do yourself?
Stephen rose, paced the room. I dont know, Ellen. I love you, Im your husband, weve been together for ages but this child I cant just turn my back on it.
Exactly, you cant, Eleanor replied, nodding. Its yours, his blood.
But that doesnt mean I want to be with Natalie. I dont love her. What we did was a mistake, a blip.
Does she love you?
Stephen hesitated. I dont know. We never talked about it.
Did you ever talk about anything at all? Eleanor sneered. Or was it just secret meetups for you know what?
Please, Ellen, he pleaded, reaching for her hand. We can try to fix this. I know itll be a nightmare, almost impossible, but
But what? You think Ill just forget that somewhere a child is growing inside someone else? That looking at Natalie will be a reminder of betrayal? You really expect me to turn the page like its a diary?
He lowered his head. I dont know. Im willing to try if you give me a chance.
I need to think. And you too. Im staying with my sister tonight. Well talk tomorrow.
Dont run off, Stephen, he said, getting up. Lets sort this now.
What are we sorting? You made your choice when you went to bed with my best friend. Live with the fallout.
Eleanor left for her sisters flat, where Irene welcomed her with a warm hug and a simple, Stay as long as you need.
That night, sleep eluded her. Memories of the early, happy years with Stephen swirleddoctor appointments that never bore fruit, doctors saying theres a chance, just give it time. All those plans now lay shattered.
The next morning Natalie called, voice cracked. Ellen, I need to talk again. Just once more. I have to explain.
Whats there to explain, Natalie? Eleanor sighed. Everythings clear.
No, it isnt. Please, give me a chance. Meet me at our usual café at one.
The Café on the Corner was a tiny spot by the park where theyd spent countless Fridays chatting over scones and coffee. Secrets, laughter, tearsnow another confession loomed.
Eleanor knew she should refuse, yet Natalies desperation tugged at her.
The café was nearly empty. Natalie sat at their familiar window table, a untouched mug of coffee before her. She jumped up as Eleanor arrived, then sat back down, unsure how to act.
Thanks for coming, she whispered.
Im listening, Eleanor replied, cool but attentive. What do you need to explain?
Natalie inhaled deeply. I know I dont deserve your attention, let alone forgiveness. But I have to tell you the truth. I chased Stephen. I seduced him, I wanted his focus.
Eleanor smirked. And you think that changes anything? Hes an adult, he makes his own choices.
Im not absolving him, Natalie said quickly. I just think you should know. Ive always envied you, Ellen. You had a loving husband, a nice house, a good job. Im divorced, live alone, men drift in and out. It ate at me.
So you decided to wreck my happiness?
No! I I didnt plan any of this. At that graduation party you missed, Stephen was upset, drinking heavily. I comforted him, told him youd still love him, that things would be fine. Then something happened.
Eleanor remembered that petty argument, the one that kept Stephen out of the party. She hadnt been ill; she was just sulky over a trivial issue.
And you kept seeing each other? she asked.
Yes, Natalie admitted, eyes downcast. He tried to stop. He said he loved you, said it was a mistake. But I called him, texted him, found excuses to meet. I knew his weak spots, I knew how to reach him.
Why spill all this now?
Because Stephen still loves you, Natalie said plainly. Hes always spoken about youhow he proposed, the future he imagined. I was just a placeholder, a surrogate. I knew it, but kept going because because he was part of your life. Silly, right?
Eleanor sat in stunned silence, trying to digest the mess. Was there any deeper motive than lust, or was Natalie simply trying to wring sympathy?
What about the baby? Ellen finally asked. Was that part of your plan?
No, Natalie shook her head. It was an accident. I didnt plan a pregnancy. When I found out, I decided to keep the baby. Not to tie Stephen to me, but because Im 43 nowmaybe my last chance to be a mother.
Eleanor felt a pang; shed thought about her own ticking clock countless times.
Im not asking you to understand or forgive me, Natalie continued. I know Ive smashed our friendship, betrayed your trust. But if you can forgive Stephen he isnt the villain. He loves you, Ellen. Only you.
What about the child? Ellen asked. You realise if Stephen and I stay together, the baby will still be part of our lives?
I get it, Natalie nodded. I wont intrude. I wont demand more than the law requires. And if you dont want to see me, Ill move to another city, find work elsewhere.
Eleanor stared at the woman whod been by her side for two decades, now carrying Stephens child. Anger, pain, betrayal swirled inside her.
I need time, she said, standing. I cant decide now.
Of course, Natalie replied quickly. Just dont blame Stephen too harshly. Blame me.
Ellen left the café with a heavy heart, walking through the park without noticing the golden leaves or the crisp autumn sky. Fragments of conversations, doubts, memories fluttered through her mind.
What now? Could she ever forgive Stephen? Live with the knowledge that his child was also hers? Let go of the sting and start anew?
She didnt know. Yet somewhere deep down a sliver of hope lingeredthat even the darkest night can give way to daylight, that genuine love can survive the strangest trial.
That evening Eleanor returned home. Stephen waited in the dim living room, just as shed imagined him waiting yesterday. They talked at lengthabout the past, the future, the ache, the possibility of forgiveness, the rebuilding of trust, the baby that would soon arrive, whatever they eventually decided.
By morning Eleanor realised she wasnt prepared to wipe out fifteen years of shared life because of one terrible mistake. The road to forgiveness would be long and thorny, but theyd walk it together.
A week later she phoned Natalie. I need to talk about the futureabout the three of us.
There was a pause, then Natalies voice softened. Thank you, Ellen. Thank you for not writing me off completely.
Im not saying well be best mates again, Eleanor admitted. But this child will need a mother and a father. Ill try to find the strength to accept that.
She hung up, walked to the window, and watched the golden leaves whirl in a graceful waltz. Autumntime of letting go, of bracing for winter, but also of promise that spring will follow. Perhaps, after the cold, their lives would bloom anew, deeper, wiser.
Only time will tell. For now, theyll simply keep moving forward, day by day, step by step, trusting that even the deepest scar will eventually turn into a faint linereminder of what was, not a barrier to what can be.
