Youve arranged everything, havent you?
Youll be the loveliest bride, her mother said, adjusting the veil, and Antonia smiled at her reflection.
A white gown, lace sleeves, and Nicholas in a sharp suit. It was just as shed pictured since she was fifteen: true love, a wedding, children. Plenty of children. Nicholas hoped for a boy, she wished for a girl, so they settled on three, to keep things fair.
By next year, Ill be minding grandchildren, her mother would say, dabbing at her eyes.
Antonia believed every word.
The first months of marriage passed in a blissful haze. Nicholas came home from work, she greeted him with supper, and theyd fall asleep in each others arms. Each morning, her heart raced as she checked the calendar. Was there a delay? No, just her imagination. Another month. And another.
By winter, Nicholas stopped asking Any news? with hope in his voice. Now he simply watched in silence when Antonia left the bathroom.
Should we see a doctor? she suggested in February, nearly a year gone.
About time, Nicholas muttered, eyes glued to his phone.
The clinic smelled of bleach and despair. Antonia sat in the waiting room among other women with tired eyes, flipping through a magazine about happy mothers, convinced it was all a mistake. She was fine. Just unlucky so far.
Tests. Scans. More tests. Examinations. The names of procedures blurred into a never-ending nightmare of cold couches and indifferent nurses.
Your chances of natural conception are about five percent, the doctor said, glancing at her chart.
Antonia nodded, scribbled notes, asked questions. Inside, she felt frozen.
Treatment began in March, and with it, everything changed.
Crying again? Nicholas stood in the bedroom doorway, his voice edged with annoyance rather than sympathy.
Its the hormones.
Three months now? Maybe stop pretending. Im sick of it!
Antonia tried to explain the therapy needed time, that the doctors promised results in six months to a year. But Nicholas had already slammed the door.
The first IVF was scheduled for autumn. For two weeks, Antonia barely left her bed, afraid to disturb the miracle.
Negative, the nurse said flatly over the phone.
Antonia sank to the hallway floor and stayed there until Nicholas returned.
How much have we spent on all this? he asked instead of Are you alright?
I havent counted.
Well, I have. Nearly forty thousand pounds. And for what?
She had no answer. There wasnt one.
A second attempt. Nicholas now came home after midnight, smelling of unfamiliar perfume, but Antonia didnt ask. She didnt want to know.
Again, the result was negative.
Maybe its time to stop? Nicholas sat across from her in the kitchen, turning an empty mug in his hands. How long can this go on?
The doctors say the third try often works.
Doctors say whatever theyre paid to.
The third round, she went through almost alone. Nicholas worked late every night. Friends stopped callingtired of comforting her. Her mother cried on the phone, lamenting, So young, so beautiful, why this? When the nurse said unfortunately for the third time, Antonia didnt cry. Her tears had dried up somewhere between the second round of treatment and another argument about money.
You lied to me.
Nicholas stood in the lounge, red-faced with anger.
What do you mean, lied?
You knew. You knew you couldnt have children and married me anyway!
I didnt know! The diagnosis came a year after the wedding, you were there when the doctor
Dont lie to me! He stepped toward her, and Antonia instinctively backed away. You set this up! Found a fool to marry you, thensurprise! No children!
Nicholas, please
Enough! He grabbed a vase and hurled it at the wall. I deserve a proper family! With children! Not this!
He pointed at her as if she were something repulsive, a mistake.
Arguments became daily. Nicholas came home angry, silent all evening, then exploded over the smallest things: the remote in the wrong place, soup too salty, breathing too loudly.
Were getting divorced, he announced one morning.
What? No! Nicholas, we could adopt, Ive read
I dont want someone elses child. I want my own. And a wife who can give me one.
Give me one more chance. Please. I love you.
I dont love you anymore.
He said it calmly, looking Antonia in the eye. It hurt more than all his shouting.
Im packing my things, he told her that Friday evening.
Antonia sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, watching him throw shirts into a suitcase. But he couldnt pack in silence.
Im leaving because youre barren.
Nicholas kept pressing where it hurt.
Ill find a real woman.
Antonia said nothing.
The door closed. The flat fell silent. Only then did she crytruly, for the first time in months, sobbing until her voice was hoarse.
The first weeks after the divorce blurred into a grey fog. Antonia got up, drank tea, went back to bed. Sometimes she forgot to eat. Sometimes she lost track of the day. Friends visited, brought food, tidied up, tried to get her talkingshe nodded, agreed to everything, then wrapped herself in the blanket again and stared at the ceiling.
But time moved on. Day by day, week by week. One morning, Antonia woke up and thought: enough.
She got up, showered, threw out all the medication from the fridge, and signed up at the gym. At work, she asked for a new projectchallenging, three months, demanding her full attention. On weekends, she started going on tours, then short trips. Bath, York, Canterbury.
Life didnt stop.
She met David in a bookshopthey both reached for the last copy of a new Stephen King novel.
Ladies first, he smiled, stepping back.
What if I let you have it, and you invite me for coffee? Antonia blurted out, surprising herself.
He laughed, and something warm stirred inside her.
Over coffee, he spoke about Daisyhis seven-year-old daughter, whom hed raised alone since she was five, after her mother passed away. He told her how hard those first months were, how Daisy called for her mum at night, how he learned to braid hair from YouTube tutorials.
Youre a good father, Antonia said.
I try.
She didnt want to lie to him. On their third date, when it was clear this was serious, that David wasnt just a chance meeting, she told him everything.
I cant have children. Official diagnosis, three failed IVF attempts, my husband left. If that matters to you, best to know now.
David was silent for a long time.
I have Daisy, he finally said. I need you, even if we never have children together.
But
You can, he interrupted with a strange certainty.
What do you mean?
Be a mother. You can, if you want. My mum was told the same thing. And yet, here I am, sitting with you. Miracles happen sometimes.
Daisy accepted her surprisingly quickly. At their first meeting, she was shy and quiet, but when Antonia asked about her favourite book, Daisy lit up and talked for half an hour about Harry Potter. On the second visit, she took Antonias hand. On the third, she asked for braids like Elsas.
She likes you, David observed. Shes never warmed to anyone so fast.
Two years flew by. Antonia moved in with David, learned to make pancakes on Saturdays, memorised every episode of Paw Patrol, and found the strength to love againtruly, without fear or suspicion.
On New Years Eve, as the clock struck midnight, Antonia made a wish. Her lips whispered, I want a child. She was startled by her own wordswhy reopen old wounds?but the wish had already floated up to the stars.
A month later, she was late.
This cant be, Antonia thought, staring at two lines on the test. Must be faulty.
Second test. Two lines.
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
David, she said, emerging from the bathroom on shaky legs. I I think I dont know how
He understood before she finished. He swept her up, spun her around, kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips.
I knew it! he kept saying. I told youyou could!
The doctors at the clinic looked at her as if she were an oddity. They dug out old records, reread test results, ordered new exams.
This is impossible, the doctor shook his head. With your diagnosis Ive never seen this in twenty years.
But Im pregnant?
You are. Eight weeks. Everything looks perfect.
Antonia laughed.
Four months later, she bumped into one of Nicholass friends at the supermarket.
Heard about Nick? he asked, glancing at Antonias rounded belly. Married for the third time. Still nothing. Not with the second wife, not the third. Doctors say hes got issues. Imagine! And he always blamed you.
Antonia didnt know what to say. She felt nothingno bitterness, no satisfaction. Just emptiness where love used to be.
Her son was born in August, on a bright morning, while Daisy waited anxiously with David in the corridor.
Can I hold him? Daisy asked, peeking into the room.
Careful, Antonia said, handing her the tiny bundle. Support his head.
Daisy gazed at her little brother with wide eyes, then looked up at Antonia.
Mum, will he always be this red? Mum
Antonia cried, David hugged them both, and Daisy looked from her parents to her brother, puzzled by the tears.
And Antonia realised something important. Sometimes, you just need the right person beside you to believe in the impossible.
