**The Youngest Son**
“Lesh, maybe skip this trip? My heart’s uneasy… Ask someone to cover for you,” murmured Olivia, fighting the tremor in her voice.
“This job pays well, love. The baby’s due soon—every penny counts now,” replied Alex, holding her tight before kissing the heads of their twin daughters, Daisy and Katie.
Olivia nodded silently. Her heart ached, but reason won out—their savings were stretched thin. Brushing away tears, she whispered as he left, “Come back soon… We’ll be waiting.”
The door clicked shut. Pulling herself together, she fed the girls and took them out. The day passed oddly calm—no tantrums, as if even they sensed something amiss.
Each evening at ten, Alex called. Olivia chattered about the girls’ antics and her sewing commissions. He’d laugh and promise, “Be home tomorrow, kitten.”
But he never made it.
On the return route, his lorry collided head-on with a reckless truck. No time to swerve. Alex died instantly.
That night, the phone rang. Olivia answered—and her world shattered.
Stumbling to Aunt Nelly next door, she begged her to watch the twins before collapsing. Doctors rushed her into surgery; the baby arrived frail and early.
She named him Alex. Home again, she counted their dwindling savings—enough for two months. After that… she’d manage.
Life became survival. Aunt Nelly helped where she could. Olivia sewed tirelessly, clients trickling in by word of mouth.
The girls started Year Two; little Alex, nursery. They were her anchors. Yet…
She loved them fiercely. But her son? No, she didn’t hate him—she just couldn’t bear his resemblance to the man she’d lost. Every glance at him whispered: *You didn’t stop him. You failed.*
Quiet and kind, Alex never complained—reading, helping, patching hand-me-downs while his sisters got new dresses.
“Poor lad… A orphan with a living mother,” Aunt Nelly sighed, watching him tidy his sisters’ toys.
Years flew. The girls married and moved away. Only Alex stayed.
He qualified as an engineer at the local confectionery factory in Sheffield. Olivia’s sight faded—sleepless nights and loneliness taking their toll.
Alex cared for her tenderly: cooking, laundry, guiding her through the park. “Forgive me, son,” she’d whisper. “I don’t deserve you. Live your life.”
He’d smile. “Plenty of time for wives and babies, Mum.”
Then came shy, gentle Lizzie.
“Mum, she’s staying with us. She’s got no one,” Alex said softly.
Three months later, they married. The house brimmed with daughters, grandchildren, laughter. Olivia smiled through the pain.
The diagnosis was cruel—cancer. Time was short.
Yet fate granted her joy: holding her first grandson.
She left this world peacefully, clutching the hand of the boy she’d once struggled to love—her youngest son… her only… her dearest.
