Ally grew up in an orphanage, surrounded by other children and caretakers for as long as she could remember. Life had never been easy, but she learned to stand up for herself and defend the younger ones. She had a strong sense of fairness and couldnt bear to see the weak mistreated. Sometimes she got hurt too, but she never criedshe knew she was suffering for what was right.
Her full name was Alison, but everyone in the orphanage called her Ally. The moment she turned eighteen, she was sent out into the world on her own. Thankfully, shed already trained as a cook and had been working as a kitchen assistant at a café for a few months. She was given a room in a hostel, but it was barely livable.
Around that time, she had started seeing Victor, who was three years older and worked as a van driver at the same café. Soon enough, they moved in together at his grandmothers old one-bedroom flat.
“Alison, just come live with me,” he said. “That hostel rooms a dumpthe lock doesnt even work properly. Needs renovating anyway.” She agreed without hesitation.
She liked Victor because he was older and more serious. But one day, when they talked about children, he said flatly, “I cant stand kids. All they do is make noise and cause trouble.”
“Victor!” Alison was stunned. “But if its your own childyour own flesh and bloodhow can you say that?”
“Whatever. Topic closed. I dont like them, end of story,” he dismissed.
His words stung, but she pushed the thought aside. Maybe if they got married, hed change his mind.
At work, Alison was diligent. She could even replace the head chef, Valerie, when she called in sickthough everyone knew Valeries “headaches” were just hangovers.
“One more slip-up, and youre fired,” the manager, Mark, warned her, though he knew Valerie was a talented cook, well-liked by customers.
Valerie saw how quickly Alison picked things up, cooking with real heart. Mark noticed too.
Once, Alison overheard him talking to the floor manager. “If Valerie skips work again, shes out. Alisons young, but shes got potentialworks hard, takes responsibility.”
She felt a pang of guilt for Valerie but kept quiet, even to Victor.
Time passed. Valerie missed a full week, and Alison covered without a single complaint. When Valerie finally returned, she was a wreckshaking, dark circles under her eyes. Mark called her into his office and fired her on the spot.
Then he turned to Alison. “Starting today, youre head chef. Youve got talentkeep pushing yourself.”
She was thrilled. The pay was good, and shed earned it.
That evening, Victor brought champagne. “Lets celebrate. You finally got recognised,” he smirked.
Theyd been together nearly three years. He didnt drink much, rarely raised his voice, and never hit herbut he never mentioned marriage either. She wondered if a baby might change things.
Then she found out she was pregnant.
When she told Victor, his face darkened. “I dont want this. Get rid of it, or get out. I told youI hate kids.” His tone was icy. “Where will you even go? Youve got no one.”
The next day, after her shift, she packed her things and left for the hostel.
Room 35 greeted her with peeling paint, a damp smell, and a rusted bed. The window was grimy, the floor filthy. But she placed a hand on her stomach and whispered, “Well manage.”
She cleaned relentlessly, scrubbing until the room felt like hers. Then she bought bedding, towels, and a new lock.
Gradually, life settled. At work, a waiter named Timothy started walking her home. One evening, he confessed, “Marry me, Alison. Youre alone, Im alone. I love youand your baby will be mine too.”
She hesitated, but his kindness won her over. When she gave birth, he was there, waiting with flowers.
Returning home, she barely recognised her room. Timothy had painted, hung balloons, and set up a crib.
As she held her son, she realised: some paths are hard, but the right person makes all the difference.
