Once, not so long ago, my life seemed like a dream. I had a loving man, I believed I would soon be a mother, and I was preparing for our wedding with joy in my heart. But a single visit to the hospital shattered everything, leaving me empty and broken.
My fiancé, Edward, and I had built a life together. We rented a charming little flat in Bristol, dreaming of the day we would marry. Evenings were spent in quiet contentment, wrapped in each other’s warmth. A month before the wedding, I began to feel unwell in the mornings. My heart whispered it was the miracle I’d longed for, but I kept it from Edward, wanting to surprise him with the news. That day, I went to visit my parents to share my happiness with my mother.
In the cab, my head spun, but I dismissed it—perhaps just fatigue. At home, Mother brewed chamomile tea, and I felt better. But that night, a fever seized me, burning through my bones. I tried to fight it, but Mother, ignoring my protests, called for the doctor. When he examined me, his face paled.
“Straight to hospital,” he said. “There’s a chance it’s an ectopic pregnancy.”
The words struck like lightning. I had longed to give Edward a child—now that dream had crumbled into dust, leaving only fear and pain.
When I woke after surgery, the weary doctor looked down at me with pity.
“Forgive me, lass,” he murmured. “We nearly lost you.”
Only upon leaving did I understand his apology. They had saved my life—but taken away any hope of motherhood. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Edward the truth. The fear that he might turn away, knowing I could never give him children, choked me. He adored little ones so! At home, I lied, claiming it had been a routine check-up. I don’t know if he believed me, but his mother, Margaret, certainly suspected something.
A week before the wedding, Edward and I had planned a short holiday—a quiet retreat before the celebration. But work kept me late, finishing an urgent project while Edward tidied the house. When I returned early, eager to see him, I froze at the threshold. Margaret’s sharp voice rang out.
“I told you she’s still seeing that Thomas! A week in hospital, and you’re none the wiser?”
“Mother, it was only a check,” Edward protested weakly.
“Open your eyes! She’s had an abortion—and botched it, no doubt. I know why women end up in those wards. And you’re blind with love! Call off the wedding. It’d be a disgrace!”
The room spun, and I fainted. When I came to, Edward and Margaret stood over me. She forced a smile.
“Awake, dear? Have some tea. You and Edward ought to talk. I’ll leave you.”
Terror left me mute. Edward cleared his throat.
“Emily, how are you? We ought to… delay the wedding. You’re too unwell. Rest first—then we’ll marry.”
“Delay?” My voice cracked. “You don’t care about my health.”
“What?”
“I heard you! Do you truly believe I had an abortion? That I betrayed you?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes—worse than any admission.
“I love you. I’ll forgive you. But I need time.”
“Forgive me? I never betrayed you! It was ectopic—I nearly died! I hid it to spare you. And now you abandon me over your mother’s lies?”
“Thomas still loves you. He told me himself. Perhaps you—”
“Never!”
“Then why hide it?”
“I was afraid of losing you! Now I can never give you a child!”
“Emily… I don’t know what to believe. The wedding is postponed. I’ll stay with my parents.”
He packed his things and left without a glance. My pain, my heart—none of it mattered. His mind was poisoned by false suspicion.
While he’s gone, Margaret will whisper more lies into his ear. Now I am alone—no fiancé, no child, no hope. How does one go on when all they’ve loved turns to ashes? I do not know.