Ally grew up in an orphanage, surrounded by children just like her and the carers who looked after them. Life was far from easy, but she learned to stand up for herself and protect the younger ones. She had a strong sense of fairness and couldnt bear to see the weak mistreated. Sometimes she paid the price for it, but she never criedshe knew she was suffering for what was right.
Her name had always been Albinia, but at the orphanage, they shortened it to Ally. The moment she turned eighteen, she was sent out into the world to fend for herself. Luckily, shed trained as a cook and had already been working as a kitchen assistant in a small café for a few months. She was given a room in a hostel, but it was in such a state that it was hard to even look at.
Around that time, shed started seeing Victor, who was three years older and worked as a delivery driver for the same café. Before long, they moved in together at his grandmothers old one-bedroom flat.
“Albinia, come live with me,” he said. “That hostel rooms a messthe lock doesnt even work properly. Needs a proper refurb.” She agreed without hesitation.
Victor appealed to her because he was older and seemed more dependable. But one day, when the conversation turned to children, he made himself clear.
“I cant stand kids. All they do is make noise and cause trouble.”
“Victor,” she said, taken aback. “But if it was your own childyour flesh and bloodhow could you say that?”
“Enough,” he waved her off. “Ive said my piece. No kidsend of.”
His words stung, but Ally brushed it off. *Maybe hell change his mind once were married. Children are part of life, after all.*
At the café, she worked hard, even covering for the head chef, Valerie, when she called in sickthough everyone knew Valeries headaches came from drinking too much.
“One more slip-up, and youre out,” the manager, Max, would warn her, though he knew she was a talented cook. “Vals the best,” regulars would say. So Valerie clung to her job, gritting her teeth through the warnings. She could see how capable Ally was, thoughquick, passionate, putting heart into every dish. Even Max had started noticing.
Once, Ally overheard him talking to the floor manager.
“If Valerie skips work again, shes done. Albinias young, but shes got skilljust as good, if not better. Shes responsible, doesnt take things for granted.”
*So Max has been watching me. But I feel bad for Valshes kind, just ruined by her habits.* She kept the conversation to herself, not even telling Victor.
Time passed. Valerie missed a whole week, and Ally took over. Not a single customer complainedno one even noticed the switch. When Valerie finally returned, she was a wreck: shaking hands, dark circles under her eyes, barely able to look up.
Max called her into his office and fired her on the spot. Then he stepped into the kitchen and announced,
“From today, Albinias our new head chef. Youve got talentroom to grow, too. Good luck.”
“Thank you,” she said, nerves fluttering. This was real responsibility.
She was thrilled. The pay was decent, and at her age, being head chef was impressive. *I wont let Max down.*
That evening, Victor brought home a bottle of champagne.
“Lets celebrate your promotion. Youve earned it.”
Theyd been together for years, but marriage never came up. Ally wondered sometimes. *Maybe if I get pregnant, hell change his mind. A proper family* She remembered his words about hating children, but pushed the thought aside.
Then she realised she *was* pregnant. A visit to the clinic confirmed itstill early, but she was overjoyed.
“Ive got no family,” she whispered, rubbing her still-flat stomach. “But youll be mine.”
When Victor came home and saw her beaming, he asked, “Whats got you so happy?”
“I saw the doctor today. Were going to have a baby.”
His face darkened. Calmly, coldly, he said, “I dont want it. Either get rid of it, or get out. I told youI cant stand kids. You made your choice. Deal with the consequences.”
His tone sent a chill through her. Hed never hidden his feelings, but shed hoped hed soften when it was his own child. Instead, he clenched his jaw and turned away.
“Youre an orphan,” he added harshly. “Where will you go, pregnant and alone? Think about it. Get rid of it. Thats the only way we stay together.”
The next day, after her shift, Ally packed her things and left for the hostel. The door to Room 35 was peeling, the number scrawled in marker over a faded plaque. She shoved it openit wasnt even locked.
The hinges groaned as she stepped inside. *Can you even call this a home?* The air was musty, the ceiling flaking, dead flies on the windowsill. A rusty bed, a grimy mattress, a stained blanket. A lopsided table, a rickety chair, a battered wardrobe with a door hanging off.
She set down her baga few clothes, some books, plates, and cupsthen rested a hand on her stomach. Still flat, but someone was there.
“Well manage,” she whispered.
Next door, a drunk neighbour shouted obscenities before slamming his door. Ally jumped.
“Welcome home, Ally,” she murmured.
The shared kitchen was worse: a greasy stove, a wheezing fridge, cockroaches by the bin.
Back in her room, she locked the flimsy bolt. She wanted to cry, but didnt. Instead, she feltfree. Victors voice echoed: *Where will you go?*
*Here. To this room. My room.*
Shed make it a home. She wasnt afraid of hard work. This was her fresh start. She wasnt alone anymore.
She opened the grimy window. Overcast, but no mattershed clean it till it shone.
“Well manage,” she repeated. *Because theres no other choice. Because I chose this. Because I wont do what my parents didabandon my child. Ive got a job. I wont starve. Ive saved a little.*
She got to work. By evening, the room was spotlessfresh air blowing in, floors gleaming.
“Right,” she said. “Time for the shopsblankets, towels, soap, a new lock.”
Life slowly settled. The lock was fitted by Pete, the hostel handymana cheerful, kind man who cracked jokes to keep her spirits up.
At the café, a new waiter, Timothy, started. It wasnt his main job, but he watched Ally closely. Soon, everyone knew shed be going on maternity leave.
One evening, he walked her home. Out of politeness, she invited him for teaand he accepted. That night, she realised he cared for her, but pushed the thought away. *Im pregnant. No one would want this.*
Yet Timothy kept trying. One day, he said,
“Albinia, marry me. Youre alone, Im alonewell, except for my gran up in Yorkshire. I love you. I think about youand your babyall the time.”
“But, Tim,” she gestured to her stomach.
“Its my baby too,” he said softly. “I want a house full of children.”
She thought of Victorhow different they were. Tim was warm, caring, working two jobs without complaint. She said yes.
When the time came, Tim rushed her to the hospital, waited anxiously, then brought her and their newborn son home to a room she barely recognised. Hed repainted, hung balloons, set up a crib.
As she stepped inside, she smiled. *Well manage.*
And she knewlove wasnt about blood. It was about choice. And shed chosen right.
