She Had Made Up Her Mind
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Tanya stood in the doorway, her voice tight with irritation. “Have you forgotten what day it is?”
“What’s so special about today?” Ilya didn’t even glance away from the telly, lazily flicking through channels. “Are we supposed to go somewhere again?”
“We’re meant to go to the hospital! Lena’s had her baby—you heard it yourself. She’s the first in our circle to become a mother. We *have* to congratulate her!”
“Congratulate her for what?” The man smirked, still clicking the remote. “For sleepless nights? A screaming infant? For life no longer being her own? Bit of a dubious reason to celebrate, if you ask me.”
“What on earth are you saying? You used to *talk* about wanting children! You said you longed for little feet running around the house. That you wanted tiny hands hugging your neck. You said—three, at least! Or did I dream that?”
“I might’ve said it. But let’s be honest—it sounds nice. Women eat that sort of thing up. You certainly melted at the time,” Ilya replied calmly.
Tanya sank onto the sofa without a word. Her face had gone utterly still with shock.
“Well, I don’t want kids. What’s the big deal? Most blokes don’t. Ever think about living for yourself for once? Travel, hobbies, freedom… But no, you lot jump straight to nappies and settling down.”
“Will you at least drive me?” Her voice had turned icy. She couldn’t hide the hurt—not today, of all days, when she’d planned to share the most important news of her life with him.
“Can’t they manage without us? I’ve no interest in all that fuss and cooing. Go by yourself later. Might even put you off the idea of babies.”
Without another word, Tanya walked into the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged in a polished, elegant outfit. The taxi had already been called—thank God she wouldn’t have to endure Ilya’s gloomy remarks.
And to think she had been so close to happiness… Just that morning, she’d seen those two little lines on the test. She’d planned to give him the news that evening. But now… now she wasn’t sure he even had the right to know.
Tanya had always craved stability. She’d worked through university, graduated with honours, and now had a fine job, a steady income, her own flat—a gift from her parents. She’d done everything *right*. And she was ready for a child. But the man she’d believed would be the father had turned out to be nothing more than a convincing actor.
Ilya had seemed mature, dependable, serious. His age, his words, his views—all had inspired confidence. Only today had he finally dropped the act.
“I’ve made up my mind,” she whispered into the emptiness of the taxi. The driver, a quiet older man, turned his head, studied her for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, said, “Congratulations.”
Tanya blinked. She thanked him and hurried inside. There, glowing with joy, stood Lena, cradling a tiny bundle. The baby was already safe in his father’s arms. The air was thick with love.
“Congratulations, darling!” Tanya hugged her friend. “What’s his name?”
“William, after his granddad. And I want you to be his godmother.”
“I’d love to,” Tanya smiled, though her heart ached. Everything she wanted was right there—yet not hers.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Lena murmured once they’d stepped aside.
“Ilya’s been lying all along. He doesn’t want children. Not really. And the worst part is… I’m pregnant. Found out this morning. Now I… now I have to choose.”
“Tanya, men aren’t rare. But the chance to be a mother? That is. My sister—she can’t have children. She cried from happiness *and* heartache when she found out I was expecting. Don’t turn away from what you truly want.”
“I won’t. If he doesn’t change his mind, I’ll leave. My parents will be over the moon to be grandparents.”
Ilya didn’t change his mind. He called children a burden, a waste of energy, time, and money. Tanya didn’t argue. Inside, she’d already settled it.
Three years later.
“Oh—Ilya!” A former neighbour nearly collided with him at the airport. “Congratulations on your son!”
“You’ve got the wrong bloke. I don’t have kids,” he replied coldly.
“Really? I saw Tanya—with a pram. The little one must be about four months. I *can* count, you know.”
Ilya went pale. He hadn’t known. Or hadn’t *wanted* to know. And now… now it was too late.
“Where is she? Where did you see her?”
“Not telling. Bumped into her by chance. So, you’re *that* sort of man, eh? The kind who disowns his own child.”
Ilya stood frozen. Only now did he begin to grasp what he’d lost. But by the time he tracked Tanya down—three years on—it *was* too late. The boy called another man “Dad.” Ilya couldn’t compete. Not in love, not in action, not in heart.
The ending had been decided long ago. Tanya had chosen wisely.
