The Big Decision
Wandering through the park, Emily climbed onto the bridge and suddenly stopped, leaning over the railing to peer down. The river below was cold and darkmaybe not even deepbut the thought of falling in sent a shiver down her spine. Shaking off the eerie feeling, she hurried on.
She was returning from her friend Sophies house, where shed spent the night after fleeing home during a terrible row. Sophies mum, Auntie Irene, had been wonderfully kind, welcoming Emily without question.
“Come in, love, Sophies in her room,” shed said, not prying into why Emily had turned up so upset. She just knew. She fed the girls dinner, poured them tea with biscuits, and sent them off to bed. The next day, a Sunday, Emily decided to head home, not wanting to overstay her welcome.
“Thanks, Auntie Irene. Id better goMum and Dad must be worried,” she said before leaving.
Crossing the bridge, she noticed a small churchstrange, shed never really seen it before, even though shed walked this way countless times. On impulse, she stepped inside.
A quiet service was underway, the pews sparsely filled. Emily slipped in, glancing around. Shed never been to church before. Her eyes landed on a large painting of a young woman cradling a baby, and she couldnt look away. Time blurred until an elderly woman in a headscarf whispered beside her:
“Dont overthink it, love. Have the baby. Itll all work out.”
Emily startled. “How did you know?”
“Ah, pet, Ive lived long enough to see whats weighing on a heart,” the woman smiled warmly. “Trust me, you wont regret it. Many have stood where you are now. Not one has ever wished they hadnt kept their child.”
The vicars voice murmured prayers; the old woman crossed herself. Emily lingered a moment longer, then stepped back into the sunlight, heading home with a quiet resolve. “Whatever happens, happens,” she thought. “Shes right.”
The day before, after classes, Emily and Sophie had sat on a park bench, dreading the inevitable.
“So, whats the plan?” Sophie pressed. “Keeping it? Have you told Adam? And your parents?”
“Soph, slow down!” Emily sighed, her mind foggy. She was only in her second year at universityhow had this happened? She didnt know how to break it to her parents, especially her mum, Patricia. Stern and unpredictable, Patricia would *not* take it well.
“Mum might actually kill me,” Emily muttered. “Adam said hes not ready to be a dadtold me not to call him again. After *five years* together! I never thought hed do this.”
Sophie launched into a tirade about Adams cowardice, while Emily wiped away tears.
“Your mumll shout, sure,” Sophie said, less confidently, remembering Patricias sharp tongue. “But what do *you* want?”
“What do I want?” Emily laughed bitterly. “Im twenty, dumped, and Mumll lose it. Its not even up to me.”
That evening, the explosion came. Patricias eyes bulged as she yelled, “How could you? Second year at uniwheres your common sense? No baby! Youre finishing your degree. I wont let you ruin your life!”
“Patricia, are you mad?” Emilys dad, George, cut in sharply. “Is this really how you treat your own daughter?”
“George, stay out of it!” Patricia snapped. “Shes not dropping out to play mum, especially when Adams bolted. Wholl want her with a kid and no degree? Shes getting rid of it!”
“*Well* help raise our grandchild,” George shot back. “Or are you forgetting we exist?”
“Oh, of course*you* wont be up at night with nappies, will you?” Patricia screeched. “Im forty! Im not spending my weekends babysitting!”
Emily, coiled tight on the sofa, bolted when the shouting turned vicious. Her parents didnt even notice shed gone.
Back home now, the air was heavy. George scrolled through his phone; Patricia clattered pans in the kitchen.
“Oh, youre back,” Patricia glowered.
“Love, youre home,” George said gently. “Were you at Sophies?”
Emily stood firm, voice steady. “Im keeping the baby. Thats my decision.” The silence that followed was louder than any argument.
Weeks passed, the storm settling. Then, one afternoon, Adams mother, Margaret, approached Emily and Sophie in the park.
“Girls, hello. Emily, may I speak with you?”
Sophie tactfully left. Margaret sat beside Emily, who braced herself.
“I know about the baby. Sophie told meand she was right to. Emily, please keep it. Ill help you, in every way I can.”
Emily blinked. This was the last thing shed expected.
“My sons a coward,” Margaret admitted. “But this is *his* childmy grandchild. My daughter cant have children, and Adam well, I may never get another chance. Please.”
Something in Margarets plea felt achingly sincere.
Little Tommy arrived at the start of Emilys third yearrosy-cheeked, grinning at everyone. Grandpa George adored him; Margaret visited often, babysitting whenever she could.
The only shadow was Patricia. Weeks before the birth, shed packed her bags. “Have fun with your nappies and no sleep. Im done.” She moved in with a colleaguea long-term affair George had somehow missed. The betrayal shattered him.
Emily juggled uni and motherhood thanks to George and Margarets support. By the time Tommy turned one, things felt lighter.
“Adam enlisted,” Margaret mentioned once. “Maybe the armyll knock sense into him.” Later, she added, “Hes staying on. Maybe hes growing up after all.”
Years rolled by. Tommy started school. Patricia never called, never asked.
Then one evening, Emily told George, “Dad, Im seeing Oliver. Hes lovelyworks with me.”
George grinned. “Bring him round, then!”
Olivertall, warm, and thirtyshook Georges hand that night. “Pleasure, sir.”
Emily watched, amazed, as they chatted like old friendssame uni, same interests.
“Hes a good one,” George said later. “And Tommy adores him.”
Soon, Tommy had a doting stepdad, and George, a son-in-law he respected. Even Margaret was happy for them, though she worried shed see less of Tommy. She neednt havenothing changed.
One Sunday, strolling through the park with Oliver and Tommy, Emily rested a hand on her swelling belly and smiled.
“That old woman in the church was right,” she murmured. “No one ever regrets having their child.”
And as the sun dipped behind the trees, Emily knewshed never been happier.
