“All questions should be for your husband.”
“Im sorry, but… weve all got kids. We… dont need trouble. Especially not like this,” her friend said, voice heavy with regret.
“Claire, what on earth are you on about?”
Emily felt like someone had upended a bin over her headdisgusting, cold, humiliating.
“We all feel awful for you,” Claire went on carefully. “We do. Honestly… But no one wants to take risks. Youve got… well, you know… a bit of a situation now.”
It was obvious Claire didnt *mean* to hurt her, but there was nothing she could do. She was just saying what she thought, protecting her own family. In a way, Emily could even understand.
But that wasnt the point.
“Im not contagious!” Emily snapped. “Whered you even get that idea?”
“Well…” Claire faltered. “Weve all heard. About your husband. What he… brought home.”
“What exactly do you *know*? Yeah, I had problems. But everythings fine now!”
“Sorry, but from what Ive heard… its permanent. We just dont want to risk it,” Claire said weakly. “Youd do the same, wouldnt you? No one would blame you. Im sorry, Em…”
The line went dead. Emily dropped her phone onto the table like itd burned her.
…Six months now. Six months since her friends had forgotten she existed. The occasional “how are you?” text, nothing more. No invitesnot even to birthdays. She couldve told herself they were keeping things small, family-only. But no. Shed seen the photos online.
Emily didnt get it. Had she upset someone? Fallen out of favour over baseless rumours? The worst part? No one even *tried* to talk to her. To let her explain.
So shed asked Claire. And Claire had told her. It didnt help.
Now everyone treated her like she had the plague.
She sighed, head in her hands. Emily had a good guess where this started. The memory hit her like a truck.
…Evening. Silence. The soup cooling on the stove, unread messages in the chat with her husbandall from her. James was *working late* again.
At first, shed been furious. Then came the gnawing dread. Eventually, just numbness. Shed gotten used to him stumbling in near midnight.
“Mad workload. Everyones taking out loans, scrambling to investbusiness is booming,” hed say.
But that wasnt all. James started obsessing over hygiene, never left his phone unattended, jumped at every weekend call from colleaguesno complaints. Even got haircuts more often. For him, that was a *miracle*.
Emily noticed, sure. But she brushed it off. Rough patchwho didnt have one? Then came the pain in her stomach. Googled it, hoped it was nothing. But *nothing* didnt go away. So she saw a doctor.
What she heard next wrecked her. Not deadly. Not forever. But…
“Sorry, but you must be mistaken. My husbands my only partner. Could it have been… I dont know, public transport?”
“Love, theres only one way this happens,” the doctor said, looking at her like she was daft. “You should be asking *him* some questions.”
Emily walked out, sat on a bench in the corridor. Stared at the floor for five solid minutes, fighting tears. The ground had vanished beneath her. The journey home was a blur.
The talk with James was short. First, he lied. Denied everything.
“Probably got it from *you* and now youre pinning it on me!” hed spat.
Then the story changed. He admitted there was someone elsebut no apologies.
“Im exhausted, and then you want *more* attention? Course I needed an escape. You saw how things were between usdid nothing.”
By then, he wasnt even angry. Just indifferent. In the end, all he asked was if they could fix it.
“Nothing *to* fix, James. Not after your little *gift*. Were done,” Emily said.
The divorce was smooth. Nothing to split, James cooperative. Almost… relieved.
She thought that was it. But no. Emilys health had always been shaky, and now this.
“Medically, youre stable,” the doctor said at her follow-up. “But fertility might be impacted.”
“You mean I cant have kids?”
“Lets say… chances are very low.”
Translation: *no chance*. Shed clung to hope, but her cousina nurselaid it bare:
“If you get pregnant, itll be a miracle.”
Thats when the dream died.
Growing up with three brothers, Emily was used to chaosfighting over the telly, nicking each others sweets, endless teasing. She gave as good as she got, but they always had her back.
Shed wanted that for her own kids. Now she sat in her silent flat, the doctors words on loop.
That night was awful. Too much to bear alone. So she let herself be weakcalled Sophie. The one shed grown up with, shared schools, even uni.
“Soph… be my sounding board tonight?”
This was normal for them. Sophie had cried on Emilys shoulder plentyrows with her mum, an ex whod hit her, losing her spaniel, Max. Emily knew it all. Always there with chocolate and a hug.
“I might not be able to have kids,” Emily said when Sophie arrived.
“You *sure*? They said its definitely impossible?”
“No. But the way they phrased it… like they were softening the blow. Or being professional.”
“Look, medicines amazing these days,” Sophie said quickly. “Dont give up. Worst casetheres always adoption.”
That night, Emily sobbed about James, her shattered dreams. Sophie held her, stroking her hair.
“Im just… terrified of ending up alone,” Emily choked out.
“Youre *not* alone. Youve got your parents, your brothers. *Me*. Youll never be alone,” Sophie promised.
Dawn crept in before Emily calmed down. As Sophie left, Emily made her swear to keep it quiet.
“Course! Im not stupid. Your secrets safe,” Sophie vowed. “Mums the word.”
Turns out, *mum* couldnt keep her mouth shut. No one else couldve spilledEmily hadnt even told her family. James wouldnt have.
After Claires call, Emily rang Sophie. She had to.
“Oh, Em! Hi! Long time,” Sophie said, pausing just a beat too long.
“Yeah. Hi. Wonder why,” Emily said flatly.
Silence.
“What dyou mean?”
“Dont play dumb, Soph. I *know*. Everyone acts like Ive got the plague! And you were the *only* one who knew.”
A sigh.
“Em… Look, I didnt tell anyone *details*. Just mentioned to Lucy youd had some… health stuff. *She* mustve jumped to conclusions.”
“You *promised* me!”
“I didnt think itd blow up! I justyou seemed wrecked. I wanted her to check on you.”
Emily closed her eyes. Good intentions, disastrous outcome.
“When you care, you *dont* gossip. I trusted you.”
“Sorry,” Sophie mumbled. “I just… couldnt stop it after. Didnt mean to.”
“Didnt *mean* to? Soph, youre just a blabbermouth. Thats *worse*.”
Emily hung up, flopped onto the bed, hugging a pillow. Her phone stayed silentno flood of messages, no invites.
Once, shed thought these people were her rock. Turned out, they were quicksand. Promises meant nothing.
“A pillows the best mate you can have,” Emily muttered, squeezing it. Doesnt talk back, always there. And it *never* tells your secrets.
