Charlotte lay curled on the sofa, clutching her lower abdomen. Everything ached, throbbed, and whispered of what awaited her. The same routine every time: sharp pain, then bleeding, an ambulance, the hospital, and the hollow emptiness inside. It was a miscarriageno doubt. The third in two years, after a stillbirth, and before that, an abortion. That abortion, the one she was still paying for with the impossibility of motherhood.
She reached for her phone and dialled emergency services. Half an hour later, she was loaded into the ambulance, barely managing to call Edward to tell him she wouldnt be home for dinner.
“Again?” he asked, and Charlotte didnt reply. Tears streamed down her cheekstears of despair, of disappointment in herself. How many times? Why did it always end this way? Or did she know the reason? If she hadnt gone under the knife of that dubious doctor back then, everything would have been fine. She and Edward might have had a five-year-old by now. But there was no child, and there likely never would be.
“It hurts so much,” she gasped, but the doctor only adjusted her IV and gave her a detached glance.
Two days in the hospital dragged mercilessly. Then discharge, Edward waiting with a bouquet, the same script repeating.
“You look so pale,” he said. Charlotte managed a faint smile. There was no joy in thisshe couldnt give her husband a child, and that was painfully clear.
On the drive home, she fiddled with the roses in her lap before turning to Edward.
“I dont want to try anymore. I cant give you a baby.”
“Dont say that,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Itll happen.”
“Do you even believe that? Five years wasted. Im nearly thirty, youre nearly thirty-five. Enough. Ive played the expectant mother long enough. The doctors say theres no chancemaybe its time we listened.”
“Lottie, well have children,” Edward countered. “Remember what Professor Whitmore said. Theres still a chance if we follow his instructions.”
“And where is your professor now?” she snapped. “Hes been dead for years. His instructions vanished with him! Thats it, Edward. I wont torture youor myselfany longer.”
“What are you saying?” He frowned, eyes fixed on the road.
Charlotte took a deep breath and turned away.
“Lets separate. Youll meet someone who can give you a child. You deserve that. I dont deserve your patience, your kindness. Im hollow. Life wont stay inside meIm worthless.”
Her voice broke. Edward took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Stop talking nonsense. Well manage. People live without childrenso can we. Happiness isnt in having them.”
“Its in their number,” she whispered through tears. “Enough, Edward. Dont let me rob you of fatherhood.”
“Dont let me lose my family,” he cut in.
That was Edwardhopelessly in love, enduring her moods, willing to endure anything so long as she stayed beside him. Hed fought for her, pushed rivals aside, and once she became his wife, he decided nothing else was needed for happiness. Well, perhaps one small bundle of joybut fate refused to grant it.
He knew Charlottes past. Knew shed been married before, to an older man her tyrannical father had forced upon her. Knew about the botched abortion shed had to endure. That was why they were here now, and nothing could change it. Charlotte had long since cut ties with her father; she hadnt even spoken to her younger sister in years.
“I wouldnt be surprised if Father forces her into marriage nextsome brute for his own gain.”
Her sister, Emily, was twenty-twobeautiful, clever, just like Charlotte, but far more willing to bend to their fathers will. Hed raised them alone, barring his ex-wives from any involvement. He controlled his daughters like puppets, pulling their strings, making their decisions, forcing them to obey.
Charlotte had escaped at twenty-four, met Edward, and severed all ties. But when Emily appeared on her doorstep one day, heavily pregnant, Charlotte was stunned.
“What happened?” she asked, not immediately noticing the roundness of Emilys belly.
“I ran away,” Emily sobbed, throwing herself into Charlottes arms. It had been barely a week since the hospitalCharlotte had just begun to steady herself, and now this.
“What did he want you to do?”
“Hehe wanted me to get rid of it.”
“My God, youre pregnant!” Charlotte gasped, finally taking in her sisters state. “With whose?”
“It doesnt matter. It was love. Hes married, didnt want a child. Father said either I end it, or hed drag me to a clinic himself.”
Charlotte cried with her. Emily was so fragile, so helpless, so dear. They hadnt seen each other in five yearsEmily had blossomed from an awkward girl into a swan. But her dependence on their father ruined it all, and Charlotte was sure shed try to return home soon. That couldnt happen.
Edward took Emilys arrival in stride. He never opposed Charlottes choiceshe loved her too much to contradict her, and she never abused that trust.
But, as expected, barely a week passed before Emily grew restless.
“I cant leave Father waiting any longer.”
“Youre not going back!” Charlotte shouted, seizing her sisters wrists. “Do you want him to hurt you? To hurt the baby? If not for yourself, think of your son!”
“Its too late for an abortionno doctor would do it at twenty-one weeks.”
“But he could force early labour!” Charlotte snapped. “You wouldnt even realise. Hed slip something into your tea, and youd be in labour before you knew it. Do you know what thats like? Nobut I do!”
Her tears and frantic words convinced Emily to stay. But guilt gnawed at hershe kept speaking of their father as if she owed him something.
Emily gave birth in July and immediately prepared to leave. Charlotte snatched the baby, holding him close.
“I wont let you take him back to that monster! Do you want Father to turn your son into another version of himself? If you want to gofine. But William stays with me.”
Emily shrugged.
“Fine. Father only wanted me backnot the baby. And youre dead to him anyway. Keep the screaming little thing.”
Charlotte knew it was just postpartum depression. In a month, maybe less, Emily would return for her son. But for now, Charlotte revelled in holding the tiny, wailing bundle, breathing in his scent, listening to his coos.
“You know shell come back for him,” Edward said gently. “Sooner or later.”
“I know,” Charlotte said, though the thought tore her apart. On paper, three-month-old William wasnt hers. And there was no guarantee his father wouldnt appear one day to claim him.
Then the call came. Her fathers voice roared through the phone, threatening violence.
“If you dont return my grandson, Ill tear you and your pathetic husband apart.”
Charlotte listened, ice flooding her veins. She braced for his arrival, torn between fleeing with William or standing her ground. Without Edwardprotective, unwaveringshe might have run. She dreaded facing her father, but the confrontation never came.
Instead, tragedy struck. Emily and their father died in a car crash, leaving William in Charlottes care. She began the long process of legal guardianshipno one else contested it. Here was her chance, her last chance, to be a mother. Edward didnt object. They both knew there were no other options.
The paperwork was exhaustingcountless offices, endless signatures. Charlotte grieved for Emily, even pitied her father in a strange way. But now she had a childa son she could call her own. He already felt like hers, so much like Emily.
Amidst the chaos, she forgot her regular gynaecologist visit. The doctor scolded her, then paused.
“Waithave you missed your periods?”
Charlotte shrugged. “Stress, I suppose.”
“Stress? Have you taken a test?”
Charlotte shook her head.
“Get an ultrasound. Now.”
The impossible had happened. She was pregnanttwelve weeks along.
“Youve never carried this far before,” the doctor said. “This is good. You need bed rest.”
“I cantI have a baby!”
“You have one inside you too! Let your husband handle William while you focus on this one. Look at the screena healthy baby. He deserves life.”
Charlotte agreed. Two months later, she left the hospital, pregnancy intact, hope restored. Edward waited outsidebouquet in hand, pram beside him. Little William squealed at the sight of her. She smiled, resting a hand on her belly, embracing her husband, then her son. Inside her, their daughter stirreddue in months. A last chance. A happy chance. A dream fulfilled.
