A Momentous Decision

**A Weighty Decision**

One evening, as Evangeline walked through the park, she climbed the old stone bridge and paused unexpectedly, leaning against the railing to gaze down. The river below was dark and coldperhaps not deep, but the thought of falling sent a shiver down her spine. Startled by her own dark musings, she hurried on.

She had spent the night at her friend Sophies after fleeing home during a terrible row. Sophies mother, Mrs. Irene, had greeted her warmly, asking no questions.

“Come in, love, Sophies in her room,” she had said, sensing the distress without pressing for answers. She fed the girls suppertea and sconesbefore sending them to bed. The next morning, Evangeline resolved to return home, not wishing to overstay her welcome.

“Thank you, Aunt Irene,” she murmured. “Id best go backmy parents must be worried.”

As she crossed the bridge, she noticed a small chapelodd that shed never paid it mind before, though shed passed it countless times. Compelled by some unspoken urge, she stepped inside.

A quiet service was underway. Few were present. She moved forward, eyes drawn to a large painting of a young woman cradling an infant. Evangeline stood transfixed until an elderly woman in a shawl whispered beside her,

“Dont you think twice, dearhave the babe. All will be well.”

Evangeline startled. “How did you know?”

“Ah, love, Ive lived long enough to see what weighs on a soul,” the woman smiled. “Trust meno mother ever regretted keeping her child. You wont be the first, nor the last.”

The vicars voice droned on, the old woman crossed herself, and after a while, Evangeline left, resolved. *Come what may.*

The trouble had begun the day before, sitting on a bench with Sophie after lectures.

“What will you do, Eva? Keep it? Have you told Anthony?” Sophie pressed.

“Soph, stop fussinglet me breathe!” Eva snapped, her mind a fog. She was only in her second year at universityhow could this happen?

“Mum will kill me,” she whispered. “Anthony said he wasnt readytold me not to call again.”

Sophie cursed him roundly.

“And Aunt Margaret will rant, no doubt,” she added, thinking of Evas stern mother. “But what do *you* want?”

“What choice have I?” Eva wiped a tear. “Second year, abandonedMum wont allow it.”

That evening, the storm broke. Margarets voice rang shrill.

“How could you? *University*have you no sense? No childyoull finish your degree!”

“Margaret, have you lost your mind?” her father, George, cut in.

“George, *hush*! Wholl raise it? *I* wontfortys too young for nappies again!”

Eva, crushed between their shouts, slipped out unnoticed and fled to Sophies.

When she returned home, silence hung thick. Her father glanced up from his paper.

“Back, then?” her mother clipped from the kitchen.

“Yes, Dad. I was at Sophies.”

Then, loud enough for her mother to hear:

“Im keeping the baby. Thats final.” The words landed like stone. No reply came.

Time passed. One afternoon, as Eva and Sophie lingered in the park, Anthonys mother, Mrs. Eleanor, approached.

“GirlsEva, might we talk?”

Once Sophie left, Mrs. Eleanor sat beside her. “I know about the baby. Sophie told merightly so. Eva… keep it. Ill helpin every way.”

Eva stared. *This* she hadnt expected.

“My sons a cowardbut this child is *his*. My eldest cant bear children, and Anthony…” She smiled sadly. “Let me be its grandmother.”

Little Timothy arrived at the start of Evas third yeara rosy, laughing babe doted on by Grandpa George and Mrs. Eleanor, who took leave to help. Eva studied on, refusing to pause her degree.

Margaret, however, packed her things weeks before the birth.

“Stay and drown in nappies. I wont play granny.”

She left for a colleaguea man shed secretly courted for years. George, ever faithful, was shattered.

Years slid by. Timothy grew. Eva graduated, secured work. Then one evening, she told her father:

“Dad, Im seeing Oliverfrom work. Hes wonderful.”

“Bring him round, then.”

Olivertall, earnestshook Georges hand that night. Within minutes, they were deep in shared interestseven alma maters.

“Hes a good man, Eva,” George said later. “And Timothy adores him.”

Soon, Timothy had a father, George a son-in-law, and Mrs. Eleanorthough fearing distancefound her bond with the boy unbroken.

One evening, walking the park with Oliver and Timothy, Eva rested a hand on her swelling belly and smiled.

*That old woman in the chapel was right. No mother ever regrets her child.*

And now, awaiting a daughter, she was happyas was Oliver, who cherished her beyond measure.

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A Momentous Decision
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