All Is Not as It Seems
Before her morning rounds, Nurse Nina slipped into the office and whispered to Dr. Helen with a knowing look:
“Dr. Thompson, Miss Easton in Ward Five has been begging me all evening to let her go home with her clothes. You asked me to inform you if anything seemed amiss.”
“Thank you, Nina. I’ll handle it.” Helen adjusted a loose curl beneath her cap and made her way to Ward Five.
By the window, a young woman lay with her back turned to the room.
“Good morning, Emily. What’s the matter?”
Emily jerked upright, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
“Please discharge me. I can’t stay here any longer. At home, I could at least distract myself—do something useful. But here…” Her voice hitched, and she looked at Helen with pleading eyes.
“Now, now, no tears. It’s not good for the baby. Unless you’ve changed your mind about keeping it?” Helen asked firmly.
“No, I haven’t. I feel perfectly fine. I promise I’ll rest at home—no exertion, just walks and quiet. Please, let me go. The weather’s so lovely outside, and I’m stuck in this stifling room all day.” Emily managed a timid smile.
“Very well. Tomorrow we’ll run tests, do an ultrasound, and if everything’s in order, I’ll discharge you,” Helen conceded.
“Thank you!” Emily clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “I’ll take every precaution. And if anything feels wrong, I’ll call you at once.”
Helen left the ward, still baffled. How could her son, her bright, promising David, have fallen for this plain, mousy girl? He’d had prospects—worked for a prestigious firm. *Worked*. She corrected herself bitterly. It was his choice, and she had to respect it. If David loved her, she would try to love her too.
Back in university, David had been swept off his feet by the vivacious Clara, a whirlwind of a girl. They’d made a striking pair. But within a year, Clara had tossed him aside for some foreign businessman. He’d drowned in grief, skipped classes. Helen had feared he’d abandon his studies entirely.
Eventually, he’d recovered—graduated, secured a position at a respected firm. Yet for years afterward, he’d avoided romance. Then came Emily—pale, slight, and unremarkable, the very opposite of dazzling Clara. Perhaps he thought someone like her would never betray him.
“Mum, this is Emily,” he’d said when he first brought her home.
Helen had struggled to hide her distaste. Every Emily she’d ever known had been two-faced—fragile on the outside, calculating within. Surely this wouldn’t last. They were too mismatched.
When David announced their engagement, Helen bit her tongue.
“Have you filed the paperwork yet?” she asked instead of offering congratulations.
“Not yet. Aren’t you happy?” His voice wavered.
“What matters is that *you* are,” she replied.
He’d given Emily a diamond ring—still glittering on her slender finger. The wedding was set for August. Helen had hoped something—*anything*—would derail it.
And then it did.
At a friend’s birthday, David had drunk too much. He sent Emily home in a cab, insisting he’d walk to clear his head. In a dim alley, he saw two men forcing a girl into a car. She fought back, screaming for help.
David intervened. One of the men stabbed him in the gut. The car sped off, leaving him bleeding on the pavement. He wasn’t found until morning. Too late.
Helen couldn’t help blaming Emily. Why hadn’t she insisted he go with her? And herself—had she raised him to be so reckless?
She’d thought grief would destroy her. Yet somehow, she returned to work. Then Emily was admitted—ten weeks pregnant, at risk of losing the child. The dates aligned. David’s child. Emily confirmed it.
Helen prescribed the best treatments, ensured strict bed rest. She clung to this hope—a grandchild, a piece of David. A boy would be ideal, but a girl would be cherished all the same.
Before discharge, Helen asked if Emily’s mother would be waiting.
“She doesn’t know,” Emily admitted, flushing.
“*What?* Why haven’t you told her?”
“Mum raised me alone. Always feared I’d end up the same. And now…”
“But David proposed! You were to be married. Had we known about the baby, we’d never have postponed it,” Helen protested.
“I wasn’t sure myself. I meant to tell her when I knew for certain. Then… I never got the chance.” Emily sighed. “So I’ll be raising the child alone too.”
“You have us. This is David’s baby—our grandchild. We’ll help. Did you even tell her you were in hospital?”
Emily nodded, head bowed.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t rush home just yet. Stay a while longer?” Helen softened her tone.
“No. I want to go. I *will* tell Mum. Dr. Thompson… thank you. I thought—after David—you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Don’t be absurd. Promise you’ll visit. Call us.”
“I promise,” Emily said lightly.
Helen disliked the deception. Liars lied about everything. They were nothing alike—David and this girl. How had he fallen for her?
Days passed with no word. Helen called repeatedly, then knocked on Emily’s door. No answer.
Then, returning from a late shift, she heard laughter in the kitchen. Her husband, Richard, stood by the table, recounting some story while Emily—*wearing Helen’s slippers*—sipped tea.
She looked up first, startled.
“You’re back?” Richard faltered.
“I offered Emily tea. Why are you barefoot?” He glanced at the slippers. “Ah.”
“Hello, Emily. I’ve been calling,” Helen said evenly.
“I lost my phone. Didn’t want you to worry. I told Mum everything.” Emily’s eyes glistened.
“Grace,” Richard cut in helplessly, “her mother threw her out.”
Helen sat across from Emily. “Don’t cry. You can stay here. You’re family.” She sighed, bracing for turmoil.
“Of course, stay with us,” Richard echoed.
Helen showed Emily to David’s room. That night, she lay awake, debating whether to confront the mother. Yet having Emily close meant ensuring the baby’s safety.
The next evening, Helen visited. A striking brunette answered—Emily’s mother, though no resemblance was evident.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Emily’s mother?”
“Yes. She’s not here.”
“I’m her doctor. And David’s mother.”
The woman’s smirk faded. “Ah. What do you want?”
“Emily’s pregnant with David’s child. She’s staying with us because you threw her out.”
“Never saw the boy. Shame what happened.” She crossed her arms. “I didn’t throw her out. We argued—said things. But I’m her mother. I *worried* for her. Raised her alone, just like she’ll have to now.”
“We’ll support her. She needs you.”
The woman laughed coldly. “She’s sly, that one. Not as meek as she seems. Knows exactly what she’s doing.”
On the way home, Helen mulled over the words. That fleeting look on Emily’s face when she’d spotted Helen in the doorway—*sly indeed.*
Emily settled in. She cooked occasionally—badly. Helen tolerated it.
Then Helen left for a conference. An unease gnawed at her. Emily had chirped about roasting chicken—something she’d never attempted before.
Helen returned early. The bedroom was empty. She flung open David’s door.
Emily bolted upright from Richard’s bare shoulder.
“You’re back?” he stammered.
“What are you *doing*?”
“It’s not what you—”
“*In our son’s bed!*” Helen stormed out.
Richard followed, babbling excuses. Helen spent the night at the kitchen table.
Days later, Emily vanished. The baby—confirmed as David’s—was left at the hospital. Helen and Richard adopted her, naming her Grace: *God’s gift.*
Emily disappeared with an old flame.
Helen prayed she’d never return.
