**The Realisation**
“Al.” Emily stepped into the room, hands behind her back, a mysterious smile playing on her lips, her eyes alight with happiness.
Alex grinned back, already anticipating good news or perhaps a little gift.
“What’ve you got there?” He shifted forward on the sofa, leaning in. “Don’t keep me waiting—show me.”
“Here.” She held out her hand, something small resting on her palm. Alex hadn’t yet grasped what it was—his smile still lingered, though the brightness of it faded.
“What’s that?” he asked, sinking back against the cushions as if recoiling from an unwelcome surprise.
“Look!” Emily took a step closer, still cradling the tiny object. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted, her voice trembling with barely contained joy.
*Pregnant.* The word echoed in Alex’s mind. His smile vanished. He stared at her as if she weren’t Emily anymore, but someone else entirely.
Her smile dimmed slowly, like stage lights fading before a performance. She closed her hand around the pregnancy test and let her arm drop.
“You’re not happy?” Her voice wavered now, not with excitement, but with tears.
“Em, we agreed we’d wait,” Alex snapped, finding his words. “Did you stop taking the pills?” His voice grew louder, sharp with accusation in the quiet room.
“I forgot once, and then…” Emily sank onto the sofa beside him. He edged away immediately, as if afraid of catching something.
“What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me? Do you *really* want to spend your nights awake, wiping bottoms and soothing tantrums? You’re still a kid yourself!” He stood, pacing the room.
“Em, let’s talk about this properly—”
“I’m not getting rid of it. He’s already here. I *know* it’s a boy. He’ll look just like you,” Emily said, tears welling.
Her words froze Alex in place. She stared at him with desperate resolve, tears now spilling down her cheeks. A sob escaped her.
“Em, listen.” He sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. *Screaming won’t help. Gotta tread carefully, coax her gently…*
Emily shrugged off his arm and leapt up, as if she’d heard his thoughts.
“I. Am. Not. Getting. Rid. Of. It.” She spoke slowly, emphasising each word.
“Em, I didn’t say that. I was just shocked. I didn’t expect this. I’m sorry.” He caught her hand, tugging her onto his lap. “Silly girl. I love you so much,” he murmured, stroking her back. “Don’t cry. It’s not good for the baby.”
“You mean it? You’re happy?” She wiped her cheeks.
“Of course,” Alex said lightly, though his mind raced. *Nine months—nearly a year. Anything could happen.*
Soon, things returned to normal. Alex saw no change in Emily. He began wondering if she’d made a mistake—tests *could* be wrong, right? He’d heard that somewhere. But a month later, the nausea hit. She turned pale, lost weight, barely ate.
They used to go out almost every night—cinema, dinners with mates, cafés. Now, Emily refused to leave the house. She lay on the sofa, complaining of feeling sick. The smell of meat made her gag. Alex was bored. He wasn’t used to being cooped up.
“Em, it’s Dave’s birthday on Saturday,” he said hesitantly.
“Go alone. I won’t last five minutes at a table anyway,” she muttered, turned to the wall.
Alex was relieved. He’d hoped she’d refuse—just not *this* easily.
At the party, he relished the freedom, joked, drank heavily. He came home late. Emily lay unmoving, still facing the wall.
Then her belly grew. She struggled to get comfortable, tossing and sighing, disrupting his sleep. She became weepy, irritable, rejecting his advances. His resentment swelled with her waistline.
“When are you two finally getting married?” his mum asked during a visit. “It’s about time. I’m not *thrilled* about Emily, but it’s done now. Have you picked a name?”
“Oliver. After her dad. Mum, who’d marry someone with a bump?”
“Just sign the papers. I warned you—”
“Don’t start! I can’t get a moment’s peace anywhere!”
On the way home, Alex stopped at a pub. He’d barely fallen asleep when Emily shook him awake.
“Al! Wake up!”
“What?” He groaned, eyes still shut.
“I don’t feel right. My stomach’s cramping, my back hurts—”
“The ambulance?” He sat up, fumbling for his jeans. His phone was dead. He grabbed hers. “I’ll call a cab—get dressed.”
In the hallway, Emily sat hunched on the stool, a coat over her nightdress. A bulky bag sat at her feet.
“You got your notes? Let’s go.”
They moved slowly downstairs, pausing often. The cab was waiting.
“St. Mary’s Maternity, quick,” Alex barked, sliding in beside her.
Emily clutched her belly, breathing hard. In the cramped car, her bump seemed enormous. She bit her lip, muffling groans.
“Almost there,” Alex muttered, hiding his own fear.
At the hospital, he half-carried her inside.
“Anyone here? Help!” He banged on the glass door.
“Keep your voice down!” A midwife’s sleepy face appeared. The lock clicked. “Come in, love,” she said, ushering Emily inside and taking the bag. “You, Dad—go home. Call this number.” The door shut in his face.
Through the glass, Alex watched the midwife lead Emily away, hand on her back.
“Em!” he called. She didn’t turn.
Four hours later, she had a boy. Dazed, Alex went to his mum’s.
“Congrats. Right, Dad—let’s shop for your son. We’ll celebrate after,” she ordered.
They bought half the baby shop, barely fitting it all in the cab. That evening, Alex drank with mates, toasting loudly as they shared tips on surviving the newborn phase.
“What are we celebrating?” a familiar voice purred behind him. Soft hands settled on his shoulders. “Hello, handsome,” a woman murmured, resting her head against him, her hair tickling his cheek.
“Nat?” He startled, then grinned.
“Careful, sweetheart. He’s a dad now. Eight pounds, bruiser. Join us.” A mate handed her champagne.
Alex remembered nothing after that. He woke disoriented, head pounding.
“Rise and shine, Daddy.” Nat smirked by the bed.
“I’m at yours? How?”
“Drove you. Fancy me taking you *home*? Didn’t think you’d want me seeing your cosy setup.”
“Why am I naked?” he croaked.
“Relax. You stayed loyal to Emily.” She rolled her eyes.
“Then why undress me?”
“People sleep naked. I missed you—thought I’d get some gratitude.” She leaned in, lips brushing his chest. He twisted away, sitting up. The room spun.
“Breakfast, or are you leaving?”
Alex dragged on his jeans.
“I’ll wait,” Nat said, shutting the door behind him.
Three days later, Alex arrived at the hospital with flowers, his mum, and Emily’s mum.
“Here you go, Dad.” The midwife handed him a bundle. He expected a chubby-cheeked angel like in ads—instead, a tiny, red, wrinkled face peeked from white lace. He felt nothing but distaste.
The drive home was quiet, but as soon as they laid Oliver down, he wailed like a broken toy. The women bustled around him. Alex felt useless.
That night, exhausted Emily rocked their son, but he screamed whenever set down.
“Do something. I’ve got work,” Alex begged.
It repeated nightly. Alex couldn’t fathom how such noise came from something so small. He stumbled through work, desperate for sleep. Emily grew gaunt, ghostlike.
Autumn came. Alex inhaled crisp air outside his office, dreading home. A car honked—Nat’s.
“Get in. You look rough. Parenthood not all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Not sleeping,” he admitted.
“Come to mine. I won’t pounce.” She laughed.
Morning brought his first proper rest in ages. Nat had made breakfast.
“Thanks, Em,” he mumbled, wolfing down bacon.
“You’re welcome—except I’m Nat.”
“Did I call you that?” He blinked. “Gotta run.” He kissed her cheek.
“Door’s open,” she called after him.
Days later, he stood at her door again.
“Knew you’d come. Waited.” In the hallway, she yanked at hisHe held his son tightly, whispering to Emily, “I’ll never let go again,” as the weight of fatherhood settled into his heart at last.
