“Daughter That Never Was”
“Will you stop wailing?! Our neighboring tables are staring at us. Thank goodness none of my friends are here; I’d be mortified!” Kirill’s voice dripped with arrogance and irritation.
“Kirill, why…?” came the choked reply from the young woman across the small table, her tears increasing in intensity.
“Here we go again! Why? What child are you talking about? We didn’t agree to have a baby, did we? We were together for a couple of months—end of story!” His voice boomed, drawing the attention of patrons in the café.
“What are you saying? We love each other! You confessed your feelings to me! You said…” Alia began, but Kirill cut her off.
“Listen, enough of this nonsense… whether I said it or not… I’m moving to America with my parents in a few days. We’ve sold our house, and my dad’s transferred all his assets. So, as they say, ‘adios, darling!’” He shot a glance at her, his frustration palpable.
“Kirill…” she whispered, struggling to contain another wave of tears threatening to spill.
“Waiter! Can I get the bill?! How long do I have to wait?!” Kirill raised his hand, signaling the waitstaff standing near the bar.
As the staff scrambled, Kirill waved them away, pulled out a couple of folded notes from his wallet, and carelessly tossed them onto the table.
“Anyway! I’m late, and I’m tired of your hysterics. I didn’t promise you anything! I’m leaving; if you want more, feel free to order whatever you’d like—it’s all yours.” He pointed at the money, striding towards the exit.
Alia watched him walk away, covering her face with her hands and sobbing even harder. Moments later, a waiter approached to clear the table.
“Would you like anything else?” the waiter asked gently.
“No, thank you,” Alia murmured, avoiding eye contact with her tear-streaked face. Slowly, she stood, gathered her bag, and made her way out. Kirill’s car was already gone.
Stepping outside, the fresh air felt surprisingly rejuvenating. The tears on her cheeks dried, leaving only the remnants of swollen eyes. Automatically, she pulled out a small mirror and a tissue from her bag, touched up her make-up, and walked away from the disastrous café.
She didn’t want to go home. Instead, she turned into a quaint little square where she used to stroll with her classmates during school.
Sitting on a bench, memories of carefree school days flooded back. “Everything seemed so simple back then, and life was still ahead of me. The only worries were whether the disco would be canceled that Saturday or receiving a low mark in geography! But now? Now, my life is spiraling into chaos! What am I supposed to do now? Get rid of the baby or give birth to join the ranks of single mothers, struggling to raise a child while working two jobs because there’s no other way to make ends meet!” she mused to herself, and the tears began to flow again.
“Miss, is everything okay? Can I help you with something? Here, take this handkerchief, please,” a pleasant male voice interrupted her thoughts, offering a paper tissue.
Alia accepted the handkerchief, then looked up at the source of the voice.
“Ally! Is that you?!” the man exclaimed joyfully.
“Tom…,” Alia replied, stunned as she attempted to rise from the bench.
Tom instantly moved to embrace her, repeating, “Ally! Ally! I’m so glad to see you! You won’t believe it; I was just asking my mum about you this morning!”
After a moment, he finally released her.
“Why are you sitting here all alone, crying?”
“I just walked by, stepped into the square, remembered our school days, and it all hit me…” Alia fabricated a story on the spot to shield her true emotional turmoil.
“Got it. You’re still as sensitive as before! And just as beautiful—if not more so!” he grinned, and she smiled at her former classmate.
“Tom, let’s not go to a café. How about we stroll through the park and get some ice cream? It’s lovely out here,” Alia suggested.
“Sure, let’s do that,” he replied with a smile.
They wandered through the park for a couple of hours, reminiscing about their school days. For that time, Alia forgot about Kirill and her unplanned pregnancy.
“Are you still single?” Tom cautiously inquired.
“Nope, things didn’t work out,” she answered with a knowing look.
“It’s the same for me,” he replied, a mix of optimism and uncertainty in his tone.
Alia and Tom had begun dating back during their school years, and they were once dubbed “fiancée and groom”—their parents slowly paving the way for a wedding. But when Tom was drafted into the army for a year, their plans shifted. Alia waited for six months before she realized she had fallen for someone else.
Anton, the man who came next, initially showered her with affection. She thought a proposal was imminent, but he took his time. After four years, with attempts to cohabitate, Alia discovered a painful truth when he was caught with another woman. Despite his apologies, she recognized she needed to break free from such relationships.
For months, Alia was trapped in sadness, trying to forget the betrayal until she met Kirill. The pattern seemed to repeat; she genuinely fell for his charming ways and the lavish gifts he offered. She dared to believe in sincere love again, ready to settle down. But unbeknownst to her, for Kirill, it was merely a game—disguised as affection while secretly planning his move to America.
Tom bore no ill will towards Alia for not waiting. He had always been rational. She had conveyed her decision in a letter, and all he wished for was her happiness. However, he chose not to return home after his service, instead heading to London, where he planned to stay.
In the capital, Tom managed to get an education, date a girl, and find a job. However, things took a turn when the company he worked for downsized, and he was laid off as the last hired. Without hesitation, he decided to return to his hometown, assuming Alia had long since gotten married.
What Tom hadn’t anticipated was that Fate had a stunning twist in store: his long-lost love was not only single but also free. Naturally, he seized the moment.
Two months had passed since their encounter in the square. Tom and Alia were now dating. He was genuinely elated with how things were progressing in his life. Alia, too, recognized she still loved Tom. However, the burden of carrying another man’s child loomed ominously over her happiness. Each time they planned a date, the reality weighed heavily on her—these budding relationships seemed doomed.
Tom invited her to a restaurant one evening. After dinner, he pulled out an engagement ring from his pocket, looking eagerly at her.
“So, what do you say? Will you marry me and share a life of joy and sorrow together?” he asked, beaming with confidence.
“No,” Alia replied, her gaze dropping.
“What do you mean no? Why not, Ally? We love each other! Where are you going?” Tears spilled from her eyes as she dashed for the exit.
Ten years later…
“Mum, who will pick me up from after-school club today? You or Dad?” Lada asked at breakfast.
“I’m not sure. We’ll see later, sweetheart,” Alia replied while preparing sandwiches for her husband.
“We’ll both come to get you! And then we’re heading to the cinema! It’s Friday!” Tom exclaimed, walking into the kitchen.
“Hooray! Daddy! Yay! Cinema…” the excited Lada shouted.
“Eat up, or you’ll be late for school.”
Tom noticed Alia fussing nervously on her phone.
“Is it him again?” he asked her.
“Yes. Tom, he’s saying he’ll take Lada through court and take her to America,” Alia said before breaking into tears.
“This needs to stop. Give me his number; I’ll handle this myself,” Tom stated firmly.
“No, Tom. I’m worried about you.”
“Everything will be fine. Lada, are you ready? Let’s go!” He and their daughter exited the building.
“Look who it is! So this is where Ally ran off to! Her ex-fiancé!” Kirill’s voice taunted from outside their building.
“Lada, get in the car. I need to talk to your uncle,” Tom said, and the little girl obediently climbed into the back seat.
“Ally tricked you, didn’t she? Did you know you’re raising another man’s child? You were her backup plan, nothing more—while her heart belongs to me!” Kirill sneered.
“Listen here! Alia and I are in love. I’m raising my child. You were the biggest mistake she made, one she corrected. Get lost—and don’t show your face around here again, or you’ll regret it,” Tom shot back, pushing Kirill away. He stumbled but regained his balance.
“Dad, are you coming soon? We’re going to be late!” Lada called from inside the car.
“I’m coming, honey,” he replied.
Tom and Lada drove off, leaving Kirill staring after them, realizing he had lost. A question echoed in his mind—was it worth fighting for a love that wasn’t there? For a daughter he never had, and now never would…
That evening, he flew away, never to return to his hometown. Sometimes, all that’s left is to put a full stop on a chapter, even when you crave a continuation…
