The rain drummed against the iron roof of the hospital porch, sharp and relentless, a cold autumn downpour. The noise roused Emily from her restless sleep. She lay still, listening to the rhythmic hammering, then turned her attention inward. She had just undergone surgerya cyst removed, along with an ovary. Age, perhaps? Though in this ward, women of all ages lay in the narrow beds.
A dull glow seeped in from the half-open corridor door. The air smelled of disinfectant and something faintly herbalvalerian, maybe.
Then, through the metallic clamour of the rain, Emily heard ita muffled whimper. She held her breath. Silence. Then again, the sound, unmistakable now. A girl crying.
Emily sat up, her eyes adjusting. A slender figure curled beneath a thin blanket opposite her, knees sharp beneath the fabric, hair fanned across the pillow. Sixteen, maybe. She already knew the girls storycomplications from a backstreet abortion. A wire. An old, brutal method.
Swinging her legs over the edge, Emily crossed the room and perched on the empty bed beside her. She peeled the spare blanket from the unused mattress and draped it over the girls shivering frame.
The girl sniffed, wiping her nose childishly with the back of her hand. Shed been operated on earlier that day. Five hours, the nurse had whispered. An abscess. Theyd removed her uterus.
“Does it hurt?” Emily asked, her voice steady. No need to whisperthe rain drowned everything.
The girl shook her head.
“Need anything? Water?”
A pause. Then, weakly, “Yes.”
Emily fetched her thermos from the bedside table, poured lukewarm tea laced with sugar into a plastic cup. “Here. Sit up a little.” She helped her prop up against the pillow.
“Thanks,” the girl murmured, taking a sip.
“Dont cry. Whats done is done.”
The reprimands swirled in Emilys mind. *What were you thinking, you foolish girl? Youve thrown everything away!* But now wasnt the time. The girl was in painthe anaesthesia wearing off, reality crashing in.
“Im nobody now,” the girl whispered.
“Dont be daft. Youre someones daughter. Your mother”
“She doesnt know!” The words burst out, panicked. “She thinks Im at my friends in Whitby. Please, dont tell her!”
Emily hesitated. “But she *has* to know”
“No! Shell throw me out! She *will!*”
Emily exhaled. The girls fear was raw, desperate. “Alright. I wont say anything. Try to sleep.”
The girl curled onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek like a child. Emily tucked the blanket tighter around her before returning to her own bed. The other patients likely hadnt slept through the exchange, but no one spoke.
And outside, the rain softened. Dawn crept in, washing the night away.
It was a sorrow that lodged deep. A life altered, irrevocably.
—
Five years passed.
Emily had nearly forgotten that night, buried beneath the rhythm of teaching primary school, the quiet contentment of her marriage, her sons grownone at Sandhurst, the other stationed abroad.
Then, news. Her nephew, Daniel, was getting married.
A spring visit to her childhood village was planneda chance to celebrate, to meet his bride. But unease prickled. Daniel was too young, barely out of trade school. The army loomed. *Was this haste necessary?*
The drive home was familiar, the fields stretching flat and green, the woods stirring from winter. Her sisters house stood proud, extended, modernised. Daniel and his father had built the additions themselves.
Dinner was warm, full of laughter. Her mother fussed, her sister, Sarah, brimmed with wedding plans.
“So, whos the lucky girl?” Emily finally asked, lathering jam onto thick bread.
Sarah beamed. “Oh, shes lovely. Local girl. Lily Rosen. You remember her parents? Mark and Anna?”
Emily froze.
The name slammed into her like a fist. The hospital. The rain. The girl.
*Lily Rosen.*
Her fingers tightened around the knife. Mark Rosen had been her classmate. Anna, his wifesharp-nosed, quiet.
And Lilythe girl whod wept in that hospital bed, whod lost everything.
And now she was marrying Daniel.
—
The confrontation came the next morning.
Emily marched to the Rosens cottage. Anna answered, her face resigned.
“You knew Id come.”
Anna nodded. “Tea?”
They sat in the cramped kitchen, the air thick with unspoken dread.
“Anna, I wont mince words. Daniels like a son to me. Sarah *deserves* grandchildren. But Lily”
“cant give them.” Annas voice was steady. “I know.”
Emilys pulse hammered. “Does *Daniel* know?”
Anna sighed. “He does. I tried to talk sense into him. But he” She pressed her lips together. “He wont listen.”
Emilys hands shook. She reached for another scone, jam oozing between her fingers.
Later, she cornered Daniel in the garden.
“You *know* what youre giving up,” she hissed. “A family! Children! And for *what?*”
Daniels jaw tightened. “Because I love her.”
“Love?” Emily scoffed. “She threw her life away once. And now shes taking yours with her!”
He turned away, shoulders rigid. “Its my choice.”
—
The wedding went ahead.
A bright July day, bunting strung between lampposts, a festival of love and family in the village square. Storks adorned banners, symbols of fertility.
And there stood Lily, pale and beautiful, Daniel beside her.
Emily watched her flinch every time children were mentioned.
Two years later, Emily joined the local child welfare board. She visited homes where neglect festered, where children curled in filth.
One evening, she drove to Daniel and Lilys flat.
“Theres a girl,” she said abruptly. “No parents. A good kid.”
They exchanged a glance. Then, in unison, nodded.
