Once, my life seemed like a dream. I had a loving man by my side, I felt motherhood drawing near, and I trembled with joy as I prepared for our wedding. But a single visit to the hospital shattered everything I held dear, leaving me hollow and broken.
My fiancé, Edward, and I had made plans—renting a snug little flat in York, dreaming of our future. Evenings were spent in quiet contentment, wrapped in each other’s warmth. A month before the ceremony, I began to feel unwell in the mornings. My heart whispered it was the miracle I’d longed for, but I kept it from Edward, wanting to surprise him with the joy of it. That day, I went to visit my parents to share the news with my mother.
In the cab, my head swam, but I brushed it off—perhaps just weariness. At home, Mum brewed me chamomile tea, and I felt a little better. Yet that night, a fever seized me, burning through my limbs as if I were being consumed from within. I tried to fight it, but Mum, ignoring my protests, called for an ambulance. The doctor examined me, paled, and delivered his verdict:
“Straight to emergency. Suspected ectopic pregnancy.”
The words struck like lightning. I had longed to give Edward a child, and now that dream crumbled to dust, leaving only fear and pain.
I woke after surgery to find a weary doctor gazing at me with pity.
“Forgive me, lass. We nearly lost you.”
Only upon leaving the hospital did I understand what he meant. They had saved my life, but taken from me any hope of motherhood. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Edward the truth—the fear that he might turn away, knowing I could never give him children, choked me. He adored little ones so dearly! At home, I lied, claiming it had been a routine check-up. I don’t know if he believed me, but his mother, Margaret, certainly suspected something was amiss.
A week before the wedding, Edward and I had planned a few days away to rest before the celebrations. But work kept me late, and while I finished a pressing project, he busied himself at home. When I finally returned early, eager to see his smile, I overheard a conversation that froze my blood. Margaret’s voice rang out:
“I told you she’s still running back to that Thomas! A week in hospital for women’s troubles, and you’re none the wiser?”
“Mum, it was just an examination—” Edward tried to argue.
“Open your eyes! She’s had an abortion, and a botched one at that! I’m a woman—I know what they admit you for. And you’re just a blind fool in love! The wedding must be called off. It’ll be no celebration, but a disgrace!”
The world spun, and I collapsed. When I came to, Edward and his mother stood over me. Margaret forced a smile.
“Awake, dear? Have some sweet tea. You and Edward need to talk. I’ll step out.”
My throat locked in horror, but Edward spoke first:
“Eleanor, how are you? We must discuss this. The wedding must be postponed. You’re still too weak. Get your strength back, then we’ll marry.”
“Edward, are you serious? This isn’t about my health—”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you! You believe I had an abortion because I’ve been unfaithful?”
He looked away, and that was worse than any words.
“I love you, so I’ll forgive you. We all err. But I need time.”
“Forgive? I’ve never betrayed you! I had an ectopic pregnancy—I nearly died! I hid it to spare you grief, and now you abandon me over your mother’s lies?”
“I know Thomas still loves you. He told me himself. Perhaps you gave in to old feelings—”
“That never happened!”
“Then why keep your condition a secret?”
“I was afraid of losing you! Now I can never give you a child!”
“Eleanor, forgive me, but I don’t believe you. I need space. We’ll delay the wedding. I’ll stay with my parents.”
He packed and left without a backward glance. My pain, my suffering—none of it mattered to him. He was lost in his own suspicions. It was over. My world had ended in an instant.
While he’s with his parents, Margaret will poison his mind completely. I’m left alone—no fiancé, no child, no hope. How does one go on when all they’ve loved has turned to ashes? I don’t know.
