Please come, I am in the hospital.
Charlotte does not even take time to change her clothes. She hastily pulls on her jacket directly over her soft home sweater, barely noticing how it slightly rides up during the movement. The idea of a mirror does not occur to her all attention is taken by the short message from Emily that came half an hour ago.
The girl is seriously frightened after reading these words. She freezes for a second, trying to figure out what could have happened, but then sharply shakes her head now it is more important to be there, not to guess. Grabbing keys and phone from the bedside table, she almost runs to the door, pulling on her shoes on the way.
The road to the hospital stretches in her perception into an eternity. The usually familiar route now seems endless: traffic lights as if deliberately turn red, buses move at a snail’s pace, and pedestrians as if do not notice her haste. Charlotte keeps glancing at the phone screen, as if expecting a new message, but it remains silent. Questions spin in her head what happened? how serious? why the hospital? but there are no answers, and this silence only increases the anxiety.
Charlotte slowly approaches the needed ward and carefully opens the door a little. Her gaze immediately falls on Emily, lying on the narrow hospital bed. She looks at the ceiling with an immobile gaze, as if trying to see answers to her questions there. Usually her hair is neatly styled in an elegant hairstyle, but now it is tangled, spread over the pillow, as if it was last combed a couple of days ago.
Looking closer, Charlotte notices other alarming details: her friend’s face looks unusually pale, dark shadows lie under her eyes, and on her cheeks there are still visible dried traces of tears. All this together creates a picture of deep internal shock, from which Charlotte’s heart tightens.
She quietly approaches the bed and carefully sits on the edge, trying not to make noise. Her voice lowers to a whisper by itself, as if loud sounds could hurt:
Emily, what happened?
Emily slowly turns her head. Her eyes are dry, but in them there is such deep, almost tangible longing that Charlotte involuntarily feels a wave of concern rising inside. She suddenly realizes how fragile her friend looks now!
He left, she whispers barely audibly, and her fingers convulsively clench around the edge of the sheet. The knuckles turn white from tension, as if she is trying to hold on to something real in this collapsed world. He just packed his things and said that he cannot anymore.
Who? Andrew? Charlotte cannot hold back the impulse and instinctively grabs her friend’s hand. This gesture is almost unconscious it seems to her that this way she can bring Emily back from that dark place where her own thoughts dragged her.
Emily silently nods. At this moment, a single tear still breaks through the barrier of self-control and slowly rolls down her cheek, leaving a wet trace on the pale skin. She does not try to wipe it away, as if she no longer has the strength for such simple actions.
Charlotte swallows, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She desperately tries to find words that could at least slightly ease her friend’s pain, but her head is empty. The girl simply cannot believe that a person who so desperately dreamed of children could say such a thing!
Emily falls silent, and in the silence of the ward the quiet ticking of the wall clock becomes audible. Her shoulders tremble more and more, and her fingers are tightly interlocked, as if she is trying to hold something elusive. Then she slowly raises her hands and covers her face, as if hiding from the whole world. In this simple movement, such immeasurable fatigue is read that Charlotte’s chest tightens.
Several minutes pass, maybe more time flows differently in such moments. Gradually the trembling becomes weaker, breathing evens out. Emily slightly pulls away, wipes the tears with the back of her hand and looks at Charlotte pain still stands in her eyes, but bitter clarity has been added to it, as if she has finally accepted something inevitable.
And the reason? Charlotte asks quietly, almost in a whisper. She chooses words carefully, afraid to reopen the wound. But to help, one needs to understand what happened. He should have explained his decision somehow?
Emily smiles crookedly, and in this smile there is not a drop of fun only bitterness and bewilderment.
Children, she says, and her voice trembles. He says he is tired of sleepless nights, of constant noise, of the fact that all the time one needs to care for someone. Can you imagine, Charlotte? He himself insisted that we continue trying. He himself said: We will cope, this is our happiness, we must fight.
She pauses, as if reliving these words that once sounded like a vow, and now seem like a mockery.
We went to doctors, took tests, did procedures I have experienced so much! So much torment, pain so many tears shed!
Her voice breaks, but she immediately takes herself in hand, takes a deep breath and continues:
And I thought that if we went through all this together, then we would definitely be together to the end. No matter what happens. But apparently I was wrong.
She looks out the window, behind which evening shadows are slowly thickening, and adds almost soundlessly:
Twelve years. Eight attempts. And all this just like that?
*************************
Their history begins like in a romantic film easily, brightly, at first sight. Emily and Andrew meet at a friendly party. That evening the flat is noisy: music plays, people talk, laugh, shouting over each other. Andrew stands by the window with a glass of juice and lazily watches the guests, when Emily flutters into the room. She is animatedly telling something to her friend, waving her hands, and when she notices that she is being listened to, she laughs loudly. It is then that he pays attention to the scattering of freckles on her nose and how her gaze warms when she smiles.
He approaches to get acquainted. The conversation starts easily as if they have known each other for many years. They chat about everything in a row: about favorite films, about travels, about strange habits. Time flies unnoticed, and when the party comes to an end, Andrew understands that he does not want to part. He offers to take a walk, and they wander around the city at night until dawn, discussing dreams and plans.
After three months they already live together. The flat quickly fills with common things: his books on her shelves, her cosmetics on his bedside table, two pairs of shoes at the entrance. Everything comes together somehow by itself naturally and correctly. After six months they get married. The wedding is modest, only close friends and relatives, lots of laughter, toasts and dances until they drop.
On the first anniversary of the wedding they sit on the balcony of their flat, drink tea with cakes and recall how everything began. Andrew suddenly looks at Emily seriously, takes her by the hand and says:
I want children from you. Many children. A whole football team.
Emily laughs, hugs him around the neck and presses her cheek to his shoulder.
Of course there will be, she promises. We will have a big, noisy family.
At that moment everything seems so simple and understandable: love, joint life, children. They believe that this is only a matter of time.
The first two years they do not hurry. Both build careers Emily works as a designer in a studio, Andrew rises up the career ladder in an IT company. They travel a lot: in summer to the seaside, in winter to the mountains, on weekends to neighboring towns. They enjoy each other, learn to live together, create their own small world.
Then they decide that it is time. Time to start a family.
And then difficulties begin. At first everything looks not scary. They turn to a doctor, and he calmly says:
Do not worry, this is normal. Many couples face the fact that conception does not happen immediately. Try more.
They try. Month after month. But nothing works. Then the doctor suggests checking hormones. Tests, examinations, tests again. New consultations, new prescriptions.
Perhaps treatment will be required, the doctor says after the next appointment.
Emily tries to maintain optimism. She studies information, monitors her health. Andrew supports her goes to appointments, follows all recommendations, tries to encourage.
But fate disposes otherwise. The first failure at six weeks. Emily finds out about the pregnancy, barely having time to rejoice, and a few days later she ends up in the hospital. She remembers everything to the smallest details: the cold ultrasound room, the indifferent look of the doctor who dryly states the fact, and Andrew’s hand squeezing her palm so strongly that bruises remain on the skin.
A year later the story repeats. The second, again at an early term. The pain is as acute as the first time, only now a sense of injustice is added to it. Why are they so unlucky? What did they do wrong?
They continue to fight. They take new tests, undergo examinations, try different treatment methods. Every month Emily waits for test results with bated breath, and then, seeing a negative answer, silently puts the package in the drawer. Andrew sees her disappointment, but does not know how to help. He is just nearby holds her hand, makes tea, listens when she wants to talk, and is silent when she closes in on herself.
Time passes, and answers still do not appear. But they do not give up because they believe: sooner or later everything will work out for them.
The diagnosis of “infertility” the doctor pronounces calmly, almost routinely, but for Emily and Andrew these words sound like a blow. They sit in the office, listen to explanations, nod, try to ask questions but inside everything seems to stop. Emily squeezes Andrew’s hand so tightly that her nails dig into the skin, and he does not even wince. They look at each other and see the same thing in their eyes: “How to go on?”
But they are not going to give up. After long discussions, consultations and reflections, they decide to try IVF. The first attempt. The second. The third. Each time waiting, hope, trembling examination of tests, visits to the clinic, ultrasound And each time disappointment.
Then there is another failure. This time Emily holds herself outwardly calmer, but Andrew sees how she changes: laughs less, lingers longer looking at playing children in the yard, is silent more often in the evenings. He tries to cheer her up, jokes, hugs, says that they will cope, but understands strength is running out.
IVF again. Waiting again. Pain again. The cycle repeats, exhausting physically and emotionally. Emily keeps a diary, records all indicators, monitors her well-being. Andrew accompanies her to all appointments, holds her hand during procedures, brings tea when she is tired. They try to maintain a normal rhythm of life: work, meet friends, even go on short trips but thoughts always return to the same thing.
One evening Emily does not come out of the bathroom for a long time. Andrew knocks, opens the door a little she is sitting on the edge of the bath, clutching a test in her hand. Her gaze is empty, as if she is looking somewhere through the walls.
I cannot anymore, she says quietly, not turning. I am tired. Physically, morally I am just tired.
Andrew approaches, sits next to her, hugs her by the shoulders. He does not say loud words, does not try to convince that everything will be fine. He just presses her to himself, feeling how her shoulders shake.
We are almost at the goal, he whispers a minute later. One more attempt. The last one. Please.
Emily closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She knows that this will not be easy. She knows that ahead are again months of waiting, tests, procedures. But she sees how Andrew looks at her with hope, with love, with faith. And she agrees. Because she loves him. Because she believes that their happiness is somewhere there, around the next turn.
Preparation for the eighth attempt goes as usual tests, examinations, strict schedules. Emily tries not to look ahead, not to dream, not to imagine. She just does everything the doctors say and tries not to think about the past.
The procedure. Waiting. First tests. And a miracle a positive result.
On the ultrasound she holds Andrew’s hand so tightly that he slightly winces, but does not pull away. The doctor moves the sensor over her stomach, comments on something, and then smiles:
Look. Two hearts.
Emily cannot believe it. She peers at the screen, sees two small pulsating lights and feels nothing but overwhelming joy.
This is a miracle, she whispers, not taking her eyes off the screen. A real miracle.
Andrew is silent. Then he runs his hand over his face, and Emily sees that his eyes are full of tears. He is crying just as sincerely as on the day of their wedding, when they promised each other to be together in joy and in sorrow. Now this is joy that they have suffered through, that they have deserved, that they have waited for so long
And then
Everything changes on one of the most ordinary evenings. Nothing foreshadows a storm: the day passes calmly, the children have eaten, played, then they are washed, changed into pyjamas. Emily is just putting the little ones to bed one in the cot, the other in her arms, quietly humming a lullaby. The flat smells of milk and baby cream, in the corner a night light-projector softly glows, drawing a starry sky on the walls.
Andrew comes home later than usual. She is not surprised recently he often stays late at work. She hears him enter, take off his shoes, go to the bathroom to wash his hands. Then silence sets in. Emily thinks that he, as usual, will look into the nursery, kiss the children, ask how the day went. But he just stands in the doorway, watching.
She feels his gaze on her back, turns around. Andrew looks tired more than usual. Dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped, arms hanging limply along his body. Emily smiles at him, wants to say something, but he speaks first. Quietly, almost in a whisper:
I am leaving.
Emily freezes. The son she holds in her arms stirs, but she does not even rock him, as if time has stopped.
What? she asks again, hoping she misheard. Her voice sounds unusually high, as if someone else’s. Repeat, please.
I am tired, he repeats, not moving from the spot. Of sleepless nights, of constant noise, of the fact that there is no more time for myself. I cannot like this.
Emily slowly lowers her son into the cot, trying not to wake him, then turns to her husband completely. It does not fit in her head how can one say such a thing? They have gone through so much for this! The children this is their happiness!
But we went through all this together, her voice trembles, but she tries to speak evenly. You yourself insisted, said that you would not back down Remember how we rejoiced when we found out there would be twins? How we chose names, bought cots?
Andrew lowers his eyes, as if he cannot withstand her gaze.
I thought that I would cope. I really thought. But this is too hard… I cannot anymore.
The girl takes a step towards her husband, as if trying to see at least a drop of doubt in his face, at least a hint that he will change his mind.
You are just taking and leaving us? she finally whispers, and her voice sounds completely quiet, almost lifeless. Me and them?
Andrew takes a deep breath, runs his hand over his face, as if trying to collect his thoughts.
I need time, he answers, looking away. I do not know if I can return.
He says this without anger, without shouting just states a fact, and because of this it is even scarier. Emily stands before him, feeling everything inside grow cold. She wants to ask and what about us?, wants to shout you cannot do this to us!, but the words get stuck in her throat. Instead, she just looks at him, trying to understand when everything went wrong, when he stopped being the person with whom she shared dreams and hopes.
And behind her back two little people sleep peacefully, who do not yet understand that their world has just cracked at the seams.
He leaves. The door clicks quietly, and the flat becomes somehow especially quiet as if the whole world has muffled the sound at once. Emily stands in the middle of the room, still not believing what has happened. She slowly turns around, as if hoping that this is just a bad dream and Andrew will now appear from the kitchen with a cup of tea, as he did hundreds of times before. But the corridor is empty.
She takes a few steps to the window, mechanically adjusts the curtain, then returns to the cots. The children are sleeping both breathe peacefully, occasionally moving their hands. Their small faces are so serene, as if they know: everything will definitely be fine. Emily bends down, touches the palms warm, tender. Having made sure that the little ones are sleeping soundly, she quietly steps away.
The flat is clean and cozy everything in its place, as she likes. On the table stands a half-drunk cup of cooled tea, on the sofa lies an open magazine with advice for young mothers. Everything looks so ordinary, as if nothing has happened. But now this is a different flat a flat without Andrew.
Emily slowly sinks to the floor next to the cots. Her legs suddenly become so heavy, as if she has walked dozens of kilometers without stopping. She presses her daughter the one who sleeps closer to herself and feels the warmth of her small body. This touch usually calms, gives strength, but now everything inside is trembling.
For the first time in many years she feels completely alone. Not just tired or loaded with affairs truly alone. Before, even in the most difficult moments, when the children did not sleep at night, when she did not have time to cook dinner or forgot to call her mum, she knew: Andrew is nearby. He may not say beautiful words, may just silently bring a cup of tea or pick up a crying child but he was here. And now he is not.
The silence is broken only by the even breathing of the infants. They are sleeping, not suspecting that their world has just changed. Emily looks at them and tries to collect her thoughts. What should she do next? How to live?
Tears come unnoticed. First one, then the second, and then they flow in a stream quietly, without sobs, just rolling down her cheeks and falling on her daughter’s pyjamas. Emily does not try to stop them. She just sits on the floor, presses the child to herself and cries for the first time in many years allowing herself this weakness.
Outside the window it slowly gets dark. Evening smoothly turns into night, and Emily still sits on the floor, afraid to move, afraid to disturb this fragile moment of silence, in which there are only her and her children
****************************
Emily sits by the window in the hospital ward, hugging her knees with her hands. Behind the glass snowflakes slowly swirl, falling on the grey pavement. She looks at them, but sees not a winter landscape, but a series of events long years of struggle, hopes, small joys and big disappointments. In her head the last words of Andrew sound again and again, and each time they hurt as sharply as at the first moment.
I just do not understand, she continues quietly, not taking her eyes off the window. How can one just take and refuse them? From us? After everything we have experienced together
Her voice trembles, but she does not cry the tears, it seems, have already ended. Only questions remain, to which there are no answers.
Charlotte, sitting next to her on a chair, silently rises, approaches her friend and hugs her, pressing her to herself. She has no words. She knew Andrew as a caring husband and loving father, but it turns out that everything is not so simple. This person just took and left, leaving his wife and children alone
Emily buries herself in her friend’s shoulder, and her shoulders slightly shake.
I do not know how I will cope, she whispers. But I must. For them.
In these words there is no pathos or heroism only quiet, stubborn determination. She understands: ahead are sleepless nights, thousands of small cares, fatigue that cannot be shared. But there, in the children’s cot, lie two small people who need her more than anything in the world.
Charlotte squeezes her hand tighter. She also does not know what to say. What words could ease this pain? But in her silence there is a firm confidence: her friend will not be left alone. They will cope together step by step, day by day.
***********************
A couple of days after this conversation, Helen enters the ward without knocking. In her hands she holds a bag with fruit a banal gesture of care that looks almost like a mockery against the background of her impenetrable face. She stops at the door, glances around the ward, then shifts her gaze to Emily.
Well, she begins, not hurrying to come closer, I see you have settled in here.
Her tone is not angry, but there is detachment in it, as if she is speaking not with her daughter-in-law, but with a little-known person. Emily raises her eyes, but says nothing. She waits for what will happen next.
Helen walks to the table, puts the bag, but does not sit. She stands, arms folded across her chest, and looks at Emily as if assessing her condition.
You do understand that this was inevitable? she continues, finally breaking the silence. Andrew has always been a person who needs personal space. And here two children, constant noise, sleepless nights He just could not stand it.
Emily takes a deep breath. She wants to object, remind how Andrew himself insisted on children, how he rejoiced at every news about pregnancy, how they chose names. But she remains silent. Words are useless now in front of her stands a woman who has already decided everything for herself.
The girl slowly rises on the bed, leaning on her elbow. The movement comes out awkward she still feels strong weakness, and even such simple actions take away strength. But internal tension forces her to gather herself. An icy wave is growing in her chest, cold and heavy, like a lead plate. She looks at Helen, expecting that she will now say something that will explain everything, dot the i’s.
You must understand, Helen continues, still not sitting, Andrew does not want to raise children. But he is ready to help financially.
Emily feels her fingers clench themselves, digging into the edge of the sheet. She tries to comprehend what she has heard, but thoughts get confused.
What do you mean? she asks, trying to speak evenly. Her voice trembles a little, but she immediately takes herself in hand.
Helen slightly turns her head to the window, as if it is difficult for her to look Emily in the eyes.
He will leave his half of the flat, she continues, carefully choosing words. But this will be counted as alimony. For a long time. He does not intend to return, but he also does not want you to experience need.
A heavy silence hangs in the ward. Somewhere in the corridor muffled voices of nurses are heard, a car drives by outside the window, but for Emily all this seems to be switched off. Only the even voice of the interlocutor and her own thoughts, beating in her head like birds in a cage, remain.
She squeezes the edge of the sheet so that the knuckles of her fingers turn white.
So he wants to buy his way out? she says, and bitterness rather than anger sounds in her voice.
Helen slightly raises her chin, and her tone becomes harsher:
No need to be so sharp! He is doing everything he can. He is going through a difficult period now. But he is not refusing responsibility. Just not ready to be a father in the full sense of the word.
She says this as if explaining the obvious, as if such an arrangement was the only possible and reasonable one. Emily looks at her and tries to understand: do both of them Andrew and his mother really think that a flat instead of fatherhood is a fair exchange? That money can replace presence, support, love?
Do you really think this is the way out? she asks quietly, not taking her eyes off. That one can just take and leave, leaving the keys to the flat instead of oneself?
Helen slightly shrugs, as if the question does not require deep reflection.
This is better than nothing. Andrew is not leaving you to the mercy of fate. He is just did not calculate his strength. Not ready for fatherhood. It happens, you know. This is life, I advise getting used to it.
And am I ready? Emily asks, looking ahead. After everything we have been through? After twelve years of struggle?
These words seem to hang in the air, filling the ward with the weight of unspoken memories countless visits to doctors, tests, hopes and disappointments, long nights at the newborn’s cot. All this suddenly seems incredibly distant and at the same time painfully close to her.
This is your choice, Helen cuts off in a firm, even voice. But I must warn: it is not worth calling him, arranging scandals, creating obstacles in the divorce. Otherwise
She falls silent, but the pause stretches, hangs in the air a heavy, unambiguous threat. Emily feels everything inside clench, but by force of will forces herself to look the interlocutor in the eyes.
Otherwise what? she asks, trying to make her voice not tremble.
Helen slightly raises her chin, as if assessing how seriously Emily takes her words.
Otherwise you may lose this help too. And even the children. Andrew has good lawyers. He does not want problems, but if you go into conflict
The last words sound cold and clear, like a hammer blow. Emily feels as if the ground is going from under her feet. How is that? Now they are threatening her too! What impudence!
I am just conveying his position, adds Helen, slightly softening her tone, but there is still not a drop of sympathy in her eyes. She approaches the bedside table, puts the bag of fruit that she holds in her hands, and adjusts it, as if it is important. Think. This is the best he can offer.
After these words she turns around, the door clicks quietly and she leaves.
Emily remains alone with her thoughts. The smell of expensive perfume that Helen brought with her still lingers in the air, but gradually dissolves, leaving behind only a feeling of icy emptiness.
Emily remains alone in the ward. She slowly shifts her gaze from the bag of fruit to the window. Outside the window evening is slowly descending the sky turns from blue to lilac, and then to dark blue. Shadows lengthen, lie on the pavement in whimsical patterns, and in this quiet fading of the day Emily suddenly clearly realizes: her life has divided into before and after.
The girl looks out the window for a long time, not noticing how it gets dark outside the glass. Thoughts spin in her head, pile on each other, but she cannot grasp any. Then she takes a deep breath, reaches for the bedside table, takes out the phone and dials Charlotte’s number. Her fingers tremble slightly, but the movements are clear, as if she is afraid to lose self-control if she stops even for a second.
Charlotte, she says, and her voice sounds even, almost dispassionately, come. I need to talk to someone.
Charlotte arrives quickly apparently, she immediately drops everything. When she enters the ward, Emily is already sitting on the edge of the bed. Her back is straight, shoulders are straightened, eyes are dry. She does not try to feign cheerfulness she just takes the pose that helps her hold on.
Charlotte silently approaches, sits next to her, carefully touches her hand. Emily slightly turns her head, looks straight ahead and begins to speak calmly, without strain, as if listing long-thought-out facts:
You know what I realized? I will not let them intimidate me. I have gone through too much to retreat now. Yes, he can leave the flat. Yes, he can pay alimony. But he will not take the children. I will cope. I will be strong. For them.
There is no challenge or anger in her voice only cold, sober determination. She no longer tries to understand Andrew’s or his mother’s motives, does not look for excuses, does not torment herself with questions why and for what. All this remains in the past, in that life that is now called before.
Charlotte does not say loud words, does not try to console. She just nods, squeezes her hand a little tighter and says quietly:
Of course, you will cope. And I will be nearby. We together.
Emily finally looks at her friend. There are no more tears in her eyes only firm confidence. She knows: ahead are many difficulties sleepless nights, fatigue, the need to decide everything herself. But somewhere there, at home with their grandmother, two little people are waiting for her, for whom she fought so many years. They are her support, her motivation, her happiness.
And now she knows for sure: nothing and no one will take this happiness from her. It does not matter what other trials await ahead she is ready to meet them face to face. Because she is a mother. And this means that she is stronger than any threats, any words, any circumstances.Please come, I am in the hospital.
Charlotte does not even take time to change her clothes. She hastily pulls on her jacket directly over her soft home sweater, barely noticing how it slightly rides up during the movement. The idea of a mirror does not occur to her all attention is taken by the short message from Emily that came half an hour ago.
The girl is seriously frightened after reading these words. She freezes for a second, trying to figure out what could have happened, but then sharply shakes her head now it is more important to be there, not to guess. Grabbing keys and phone from the bedside table, she almost runs to the door, pulling on her shoes on the way.
The road to the hospital stretches in her perception into an eternity. The usually familiar route now seems endless: traffic lights as if deliberately turn red, buses move at a snail’s pace, and pedestrians as if do not notice her haste. Charlotte keeps glancing at the phone screen, as if expecting a new message, but it remains silent. Questions spin in her head what happened? how serious? why the hospital? but there are no answers, and this silence only increases the anxiety.
Charlotte slowly approaches the needed ward and carefully opens the door a little. Her gaze immediately falls on Emily, lying on the narrow hospital bed. She looks at the ceiling with an immobile gaze, as if trying to see answers to her questions there. Usually her hair is neatly styled in an elegant hairstyle, but now it is tangled, spread over the pillow, as if it was last combed a couple of days ago.
Looking closer, Charlotte notices other alarming details: her friend’s face looks unusually pale, dark shadows lie under her eyes, and on her cheeks there are still visible dried traces of tears. All this together creates a picture of deep internal shock, from which Charlotte’s heart tightens.
She quietly approaches the bed and carefully sits on the edge, trying not to make noise. Her voice lowers to a whisper by itself, as if loud sounds could hurt:
Emily, what happened?
Emily slowly turns her head. Her eyes are dry, but in them there is such deep, almost tangible longing that Charlotte involuntarily feels a wave of concern rising inside. She suddenly realizes how fragile her friend looks now!
He left, she whispers barely audibly, and her fingers convulsively clench around the edge of the sheet. The knuckles turn white from tension, as if she is trying to hold on to something real in this collapsed world. He just packed his things and said that he cannot anymore.
Who? Andrew? Charlotte cannot hold back the impulse and instinctively grabs her friend’s hand. This gesture is almost unconscious it seems to her that this way she can bring Emily back from that dark place where her own thoughts dragged her.
Emily silently nods. At this moment, a single tear still breaks through the barrier of self-control and slowly rolls down her cheek, leaving a wet trace on the pale skin. She does not try to wipe it away, as if she no longer has the strength for such simple actions.
Charlotte swallows, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She desperately tries to find words that could at least slightly ease her friend’s pain, but her head is empty. The girl simply cannot believe that a person who so desperately dreamed of children could say such a thing!
Emily falls silent, and in the silence of the ward the quiet ticking of the wall clock becomes audible. Her shoulders tremble more and more, and her fingers are tightly interlocked, as if she is trying to hold something elusive. Then she slowly raises her hands and covers her face, as if hiding from the whole world. In this simple movement, such immeasurable fatigue is read that Charlotte’s chest tightens.
Several minutes pass, maybe more time flows differently in such moments. Gradually the trembling becomes weaker, breathing evens out. Emily slightly pulls away, wipes the tears with the back of her hand and looks at Charlotte pain still stands in her eyes, but bitter clarity has been added to it, as if she has finally accepted something inevitable.
And the reason? Charlotte asks quietly, almost in a whisper. She chooses words carefully, afraid to reopen the wound. But to help, one needs to understand what happened. He should have explained his decision somehow?
Emily smiles crookedly, and in this smile there is not a drop of fun only bitterness and bewilderment.
Children, she says, and her voice trembles. He says he is tired of sleepless nights, of constant noise, of the fact that all the time one needs to care for someone. Can you imagine, Charlotte? He himself insisted that we continue trying. He himself said: We will cope, this is our happiness, we must fight.
She pauses, as if reliving these words that once sounded like a vow, and now seem like a mockery.
We went to doctors, took tests, did procedures I have experienced so much! So much torment, pain so many tears shed!
Her voice breaks, but she immediately takes herself in hand, takes a deep breath and continues:
And I thought that if we went through all this together, then we would definitely be together to the end. No matter what happens. But apparently I was wrong.
She looks out the window, behind which evening shadows are slowly thickening, and adds almost soundlessly:
Twelve years. Eight attempts. And all this just like that?
*************************
Their history begins like in a romantic film easily, brightly, at first sight. Emily and Andrew meet at a friendly party. That evening the flat is noisy: music plays, people talk, laugh, shouting over each other. Andrew stands by the window with a glass of juice and lazily watches the guests, when Emily flutters into the room. She is animatedly telling something to her friend, waving her hands, and when she notices that she is being listened to, she laughs loudly. It is then that he pays attention to the scattering of freckles on her nose and how her gaze warms when she smiles.
He approaches to get acquainted. The conversation starts easily as if they have known each other for many years. They chat about everything in a row: about favorite films, about travels, about strange habits. Time flies unnoticed, and when the party comes to an end, Andrew understands that he does not want to part. He offers to take a walk, and they wander around the city at night until dawn, discussing dreams and plans.
After three months they already live together. The flat quickly fills with common things: his books on her shelves, her cosmetics on his bedside table, two pairs of shoes at the entrance. Everything comes together somehow by itself naturally and correctly. After six months they get married. The wedding is modest, only close friends and relatives, lots of laughter, toasts and dances until they drop.
On the first anniversary of the wedding they sit on the balcony of their flat, drink tea with cakes and recall how everything began. Andrew suddenly looks at Emily seriously, takes her by the hand and says:
I want children from you. Many children. A whole football team.
Emily laughs, hugs him around the neck and presses her cheek to his shoulder.
Of course there will be, she promises. We will have a big, noisy family.
At that moment everything seems so simple and understandable: love, joint life, children. They believe that this is only a matter of time.
The first two years they do not hurry. Both build careers Emily works as a designer in a studio, Andrew rises up the career ladder in an IT company. They travel a lot: in summer to the seaside, in winter to the mountains, on weekends to neighboring towns. They enjoy each other, learn to live together, create their own small world.
Then they decide that it is time. Time to start a family.
And then difficulties begin. At first everything looks not scary. They turn to a doctor, and he calmly says:
Do not worry, this is normal. Many couples face the fact that conception does not happen immediately. Try more.
They try. Month after month. But nothing works. Then the doctor suggests checking hormones. Tests, examinations, tests again. New consultations, new prescriptions.
Perhaps treatment will be required, the doctor says after the next appointment.
Emily tries to maintain optimism. She studies information, monitors her health. Andrew supports her goes to appointments, follows all recommendations, tries to encourage.
But fate disposes otherwise. The first failure at six weeks. Emily finds out about the pregnancy, barely having time to rejoice, and a few days later she ends up in the hospital. She remembers everything to the smallest details: the cold ultrasound room, the indifferent look of the doctor who dryly states the fact, and Andrew’s hand squeezing her palm so strongly that bruises remain on the skin.
A year later the story repeats. The second, again at an early term. The pain is as acute as the first time, only now a sense of injustice is added to it. Why are they so unlucky? What did they do wrong?
They continue to fight. They take new tests, undergo examinations, try different treatment methods. Every month Emily waits for test results with bated breath, and then, seeing a negative answer, silently puts the package in the drawer. Andrew sees her disappointment, but does not know how to help. He is just nearby holds her hand, makes tea, listens when she wants to talk, and is silent when she closes in on herself.
Time passes, and answers still do not appear. But they do not give up because they believe: sooner or later everything will work out for them.
The diagnosis of “infertility” the doctor pronounces calmly, almost routinely, but for Emily and Andrew these words sound like a blow. They sit in the office, listen to explanations, nod, try to ask questions but inside everything seems to stop. Emily squeezes Andrew’s hand so tightly that her nails dig into the skin, and he does not even wince. They look at each other and see the same thing in their eyes: “How to go on?”
But they are not going to give up. After long discussions, consultations and reflections, they decide to try IVF. The first attempt. The second. The third. Each time waiting, hope, trembling examination of tests, visits to the clinic, ultrasound And each time disappointment.
Then there is another failure. This time Emily holds herself outwardly calmer, but Andrew sees how she changes: laughs less, lingers longer looking at playing children in the yard, is silent more often in the evenings. He tries to cheer her up, jokes, hugs, says that they will cope, but understands strength is running out.
IVF again. Waiting again. Pain again. The cycle repeats, exhausting physically and emotionally. Emily keeps a diary, records all indicators, monitors her well-being. Andrew accompanies her to all appointments, holds her hand during procedures, brings tea when she is tired. They try to maintain a normal rhythm of life: work, meet friends, even go on short trips but thoughts always return to the same thing.
One evening Emily does not come out of the bathroom for a long time. Andrew knocks, opens the door a little she is sitting on the edge of the bath, clutching a test in her hand. Her gaze is empty, as if she is looking somewhere through the walls.
I cannot anymore, she says quietly, not turning. I am tired. Physically, morally I am just tired.
Andrew approaches, sits next to her, hugs her by the shoulders. He does not say loud words, does not try to convince that everything will be fine. He just presses her to himself, feeling how her shoulders shake.
We are almost at the goal, he whispers a minute later. One more attempt. The last one. Please.
Emily closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She knows that this will not be easy. She knows that ahead are again months of waiting, tests, procedures. But she sees how Andrew looks at her with hope, with love, with faith. And she agrees. Because she loves him. Because she believes that their happiness is somewhere there, around the next turn.
Preparation for the eighth attempt goes as usual tests, examinations, strict schedules. Emily tries not to look ahead, not to dream, not to imagine. She just does everything the doctors say and tries not to think about the past.
The procedure. Waiting. First tests. And a miracle a positive result.
On the ultrasound she holds Andrew’s hand so tightly that he slightly winces, but does not pull away. The doctor moves the sensor over her stomach, comments on something, and then smiles:
Look. Two hearts.
Emily cannot believe it. She peers at the screen, sees two small pulsating lights and feels nothing but overwhelming joy.
This is a miracle, she whispers, not taking her eyes off the screen. A real miracle.
Andrew is silent. Then he runs his hand over his face, and Emily sees that his eyes are full of tears. He is crying just as sincerely as on the day of their wedding, when they promised each other to be together in joy and in sorrow. Now this is joy that they have suffered through, that they have deserved, that they have waited for so long
And then
Everything changes on one of the most ordinary evenings. Nothing foreshadows a storm: the day passes calmly, the children have eaten, played, then they are washed, changed into pyjamas. Emily is just putting the little ones to bed one in the cot, the other in her arms, quietly humming a lullaby. The flat smells of milk and baby cream, in the corner a night light-projector softly glows, drawing a starry sky on the walls.
Andrew comes home later than usual. She is not surprised recently he often stays late at work. She hears him enter, take off his shoes, go to the bathroom to wash his hands. Then silence sets in. Emily thinks that he, as usual, will look into the nursery, kiss the children, ask how the day went. But he just stands in the doorway, watching.
She feels his gaze on her back, turns around. Andrew looks tired more than usual. Dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped, arms hanging limply along his body. Emily smiles at him, wants to say something, but he speaks first. Quietly, almost in a whisper:
I am leaving.
Emily freezes. The son she holds in her arms stirs, but she does not even rock him, as if time has stopped.
What? she asks again, hoping she misheard. Her voice sounds unusually high, as if someone else’s. Repeat, please.
I am tired, he repeats, not moving from the spot. Of sleepless nights, of constant noise, of the fact that there is no more time for myself. I cannot like this.
Emily slowly lowers her son into the cot, trying not to wake him, then turns to her husband completely. It does not fit in her head how can one say such a thing? They have gone through so much for this! The children this is their happiness!
But we went through all this together, her voice trembles, but she tries to speak evenly. You yourself insisted, said that you would not back down Remember how we rejoiced when we found out there would be twins? How we chose names, bought cots?
Andrew lowers his eyes, as if he cannot withstand her gaze.
I thought that I would cope. I really thought. But this is too hard… I cannot anymore.
The girl takes a step towards her husband, as if trying to see at least a drop of doubt in his face, at least a hint that he will change his mind.
You are just taking and leaving us? she finally whispers, and her voice sounds completely quiet, almost lifeless. Me and them?
Andrew takes a deep breath, runs his hand over his face, as if trying to collect his thoughts.
I need time, he answers, looking away. I do not know if I can return.
He says this without anger, without shouting just states a fact, and because of this it is even scarier. Emily stands before him, feeling everything inside grow cold. She wants to ask and what about us?, wants to shout you cannot do this to us!, but the words get stuck in her throat. Instead, she just looks at him, trying to understand when everything went wrong, when he stopped being the person with whom she shared dreams and hopes.
And behind her back two little people sleep peacefully, who do not yet understand that their world has just cracked at the seams.
He leaves. The door clicks quietly, and the flat becomes somehow especially quiet as if the whole world has muffled the sound at once. Emily stands in the middle of the room, still not believing what has happened. She slowly turns around, as if hoping that this is just a bad dream and Andrew will now appear from the kitchen with a cup of tea, as he did hundreds of times before. But the corridor is empty.
She takes a few steps to the window, mechanically adjusts the curtain, then returns to the cots. The children are sleeping both breathe peacefully, occasionally moving their hands. Their small faces are so serene, as if they know: everything will definitely be fine. Emily bends down, touches the palms warm, tender. Having made sure that the little ones are sleeping soundly, she quietly steps away.
The flat is clean and cozy everything in its place, as she likes. On the table stands a half-drunk cup of cooled tea, on the sofa lies an open magazine with advice for young mothers. Everything looks so ordinary, as if nothing has happened. But now this is a different flat a flat without Andrew.
Emily slowly sinks to the floor next to the cots. Her legs suddenly become so heavy, as if she has walked dozens of kilometers without stopping. She presses her daughter the one who sleeps closer to herself and feels the warmth of her small body. This touch usually calms, gives strength, but now everything inside is trembling.
For the first time in many years she feels completely alone. Not just tired or loaded with affairs truly alone. Before, even in the most difficult moments, when the children did not sleep at night, when she did not have time to cook dinner or forgot to call her mum, she knew: Andrew is nearby. He may not say beautiful words, may just silently bring a cup of tea or pick up a crying child but he was here. And now he is not.
The silence is broken only by the even breathing of the infants. They are sleeping, not suspecting that their world has just changed. Emily looks at them and tries to collect her thoughts. What should she do next? How to live?
Tears come unnoticed. First one, then the second, and then they flow in a stream quietly, without sobs, just rolling down her cheeks and falling on her daughter’s pyjamas. Emily does not try to stop them. She just sits on the floor, presses the child to herself and cries for the first time in many years allowing herself this weakness.
Outside the window it slowly gets dark. Evening smoothly turns into night, and Emily still sits on the floor, afraid to move, afraid to disturb this fragile moment of silence, in which there are only her and her children
****************************
Emily sits by the window in the hospital ward, hugging her knees with her hands. Behind the glass snowflakes slowly swirl, falling on the grey pavement. She looks at them, but sees not a winter landscape, but a series of events long years of struggle, hopes, small joys and big disappointments. In her head the last words of Andrew sound again and again, and each time they hurt as sharply as at the first moment.
I just do not understand, she continues quietly, not taking her eyes off the window. How can one just take and refuse them? From us? After everything we have experienced together
Her voice trembles, but she does not cry the tears, it seems, have already ended. Only questions remain, to which there are no answers.
Charlotte, sitting next to her on a chair, silently rises, approaches her friend and hugs her, pressing her to herself. She has no words. She knew Andrew as a caring husband and loving father, but it turns out that everything is not so simple. This person just took and left, leaving his wife and children alone
Emily buries herself in her friend’s shoulder, and her shoulders slightly shake.
I do not know how I will cope, she whispers. But I must. For them.
In these words there is no pathos or heroism only quiet, stubborn determination. She understands: ahead are sleepless nights, thousands of small cares, fatigue that cannot be shared. But there, in the children’s cot, lie two small people who need her more than anything in the world.
Charlotte squeezes her hand tighter. She also does not know what to say. What words could ease this pain? But in her silence there is a firm confidence: her friend will not be left alone. They will cope together step by step, day by day.
***********************
A couple of days after this conversation, Helen enters the ward without knocking. In her hands she holds a bag with fruit a banal gesture of care that looks almost like a mockery against the background of her impenetrable face. She stops at the door, glances around the ward, then shifts her gaze to Emily.
Well, she begins, not hurrying to come closer, I see you have settled in here.
Her tone is not angry, but there is detachment in it, as if she is speaking not with her daughter-in-law, but with a little-known person. Emily raises her eyes, but says nothing. She waits for what will happen next.
Helen walks to the table, puts the bag, but does not sit. She stands, arms folded across her chest, and looks at Emily as if assessing her condition.
You do understand that this was inevitable? she continues, finally breaking the silence. Andrew has always been a person who needs personal space. And here two children, constant noise, sleepless nights He just could not stand it.
Emily takes a deep breath. She wants to object, remind how Andrew himself insisted on children, how he rejoiced at every news about pregnancy, how they chose names. But she remains silent. Words are useless now in front of her stands a woman who has already decided everything for herself.
The girl slowly rises on the bed, leaning on her elbow. The movement comes out awkward she still feels strong weakness, and even such simple actions take away strength. But internal tension forces her to gather herself. An icy wave is growing in her chest, cold and heavy, like a lead plate. She looks at Helen, expecting that she will now say something that will explain everything, dot the i’s.
You must understand, Helen continues, still not sitting, Andrew does not want to raise children. But he is ready to help financially.
Emily feels her fingers clench themselves, digging into the edge of the sheet. She tries to comprehend what she has heard, but thoughts get confused.
What do you mean? she asks, trying to speak evenly. Her voice trembles a little, but she immediately takes herself in hand.
Helen slightly turns her head to the window, as if it is difficult for her to look Emily in the eyes.
He will leave his half of the flat, she continues, carefully choosing words. But this will be counted as alimony. For a long time. He does not intend to return, but he also does not want you to experience need.
A heavy silence hangs in the ward. Somewhere in the corridor muffled voices of nurses are heard, a car drives by outside the window, but for Emily all this seems to be switched off. Only the even voice of the interlocutor and her own thoughts, beating in her head like birds in a cage, remain.
She squeezes the edge of the sheet so that the knuckles of her fingers turn white.
So he wants to buy his way out? she says, and bitterness rather than anger sounds in her voice.
Helen slightly raises her chin, and her tone becomes harsher:
No need to be so sharp! He is doing everything he can. He is going through a difficult period now. But he is not refusing responsibility. Just not ready to be a father in the full sense of the word.
She says this as if explaining the obvious, as if such an arrangement was the only possible and reasonable one. Emily looks at her and tries to understand: do both of them Andrew and his mother really think that a flat instead of fatherhood is a fair exchange? That money can replace presence, support, love?
Do you really think this is the way out? she asks quietly, not taking her eyes off. That one can just take and leave, leaving the keys to the flat instead of oneself?
Helen slightly shrugs, as if the question does not require deep reflection.
This is better than nothing. Andrew is not leaving you to the mercy of fate. He is just did not calculate his strength. Not ready for fatherhood. It happens, you know. This is life, I advise getting used to it.
And am I ready? Emily asks, looking ahead. After everything we have been through? After twelve years of struggle?
These words seem to hang in the air, filling the ward with the weight of unspoken memories countless visits to doctors, tests, hopes and disappointments, long nights at the newborn’s cot. All this suddenly seems incredibly distant and at the same time painfully close to her.
This is your choice, Helen cuts off in a firm, even voice. But I must warn: it is not worth calling him, arranging scandals, creating obstacles in the divorce. Otherwise
She falls silent, but the pause stretches, hangs in the air a heavy, unambiguous threat. Emily feels everything inside clench, but by force of will forces herself to look the interlocutor in the eyes.
Otherwise what? she asks, trying to make her voice not tremble.
Helen slightly raises her chin, as if assessing how seriously Emily takes her words.
Otherwise you may lose this help too. And even the children. Andrew has good lawyers. He does not want problems, but if you go into conflict
The last words sound cold and clear, like a hammer blow. Emily feels as if the ground is going from under her feet. How is that? Now they are threatening her too! What impudence!
I am just conveying his position, adds Helen, slightly softening her tone, but there is still not a drop of sympathy in her eyes. She approaches the bedside table, puts the bag of fruit that she holds in her hands, and adjusts it, as if it is important. Think. This is the best he can offer.
After these words she turns around, the door clicks quietly and she leaves.
Emily remains alone with her thoughts. The smell of expensive perfume that Helen brought with her still lingers in the air, but gradually dissolves, leaving behind only a feeling of icy emptiness.
Emily remains alone in the ward. She slowly shifts her gaze from the bag of fruit to the window. Outside the window evening is slowly descending the sky turns from blue to lilac, and then to dark blue. Shadows lengthen, lie on the pavement in whimsical patterns, and in this quiet fading of the day Emily suddenly clearly realizes: her life has divided into before and after.
The girl looks out the window for a long time, not noticing how it gets dark outside the glass. Thoughts spin in her head, pile on each other, but she cannot grasp any. Then she takes a deep breath, reaches for the bedside table, takes out the phone and dials Charlotte’s number. Her fingers tremble slightly, but the movements are clear, as if she is afraid to lose self-control if she stops even for a second.
Charlotte, she says, and her voice sounds even, almost dispassionately, come. I need to talk to someone.
Charlotte arrives quickly apparently, she immediately drops everything. When she enters the ward, Emily is already sitting on the edge of the bed. Her back is straight, shoulders are straightened, eyes are dry. She does not try to feign cheerfulness she just takes the pose that helps her hold on.
Charlotte silently approaches, sits next to her, carefully touches her hand. Emily slightly turns her head, looks straight ahead and begins to speak calmly, without strain, as if listing long-thought-out facts:
You know what I realized? I will not let them intimidate me. I have gone through too much to retreat now. Yes, he can leave the flat. Yes, he can pay alimony. But he will not take the children. I will cope. I will be strong. For them.
There is no challenge or anger in her voice only cold, sober determination. She no longer tries to understand Andrew’s or his mother’s motives, does not look for excuses, does not torment herself with questions why and for what. All this remains in the past, in that life that is now called before.
Charlotte does not say loud words, does not try to console. She just nods, squeezes her hand a little tighter and says quietly:
Of course, you will cope. And I will be nearby. We together.
Emily finally looks at her friend. There are no more tears in her eyes only firm confidence. She knows: ahead are many difficulties sleepless nights, fatigue, the need to decide everything herself. But somewhere there, at home with their grandmother, two little people are waiting for her, for whom she fought so many years. They are her support, her motivation, her happiness.
And now she knows for sure: nothing and no one will take this happiness from her. It does not matter what other trials await ahead she is ready to meet them face to face. Because she is a mother. And this means that she is stronger than any threats, any words, any circumstances.
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