Lucy said she could never be a mother. But life had other plans.
She was chopping vegetables for supper when a sharp knock rattled the front door. On the doorstep stood a woman with steel in her eyes and a smile like frost. It was Emily—Roman’s ex-wife. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside and announced,
*”We need to talk. Alone.”*
Roman frowned.
*”I don’t keep secrets from my wife.”*
Lucy, feeling like an intruder, hesitated.
*”I could pop out to the shop…”*
*”No need,”* her husband said firmly.
Emily sighed but relented.
*”Fine. Let her stay. She’ll want to hear this.”*
Lucy perched on the edge of a chair. Her wariness twisted into uneasy curiosity. She couldn’t begin to guess what was coming.
Emily spoke with the certainty of someone who’d made up her mind long ago.
*”The twins are nine. I’ve done my share. Now it’s your turn. Starting tomorrow, they live with you.”*
*”What?”* Roman shot to his feet. *”Are you mad? Have you thought what this’ll do to them?”*
*”I’ve thought,”* Emily replied, her voice devoid of guilt. *”Then I remembered—I’m a person too. I’m done. School, clubs, homework—that’s your problem now. I’ll be the weekend mum.”*
*”They’re children, not luggage,”* Lucy murmured.
Emily’s temper flared.
*”No one pitied me! I’ve told you how it is. Refuse, and I’ll take you to court. Lose your rights. Understood?”*
She left, the silence behind her pulled tight as a bowstring.
*”What now?”* Roman turned to Lucy.
She nodded slowly.
*”Take them. But we’ll make it legal. Otherwise, in a month, she’ll change her mind again. And they can’t be tossed about like toys.”*
Roman exhaled heavily.
*”And you? Are you ready?”*
*”I’ve already grown fond of them. You know I can’t have my own. Maybe this is my chance…”*
Lucy had learned of her infertility at twenty. A friend convinced her to get checked—some private clinic had a discount. Back then, it had seemed like a formality.
The doctor’s words were merciless: *”Not unless a miracle…”*
She didn’t give up. Saw three more specialists. The answer never changed. IVF wasn’t an option—her condition was too severe.
She lived through it all—tears, despair, rage, acceptance. She’d even considered adoption but feared she’d never love a child not her own.
With every man she dated, she was honest about her diagnosis. Some pretended to accept it before backing away. By thirty, she was alone—but not unhappy. She worked, travelled, lived fully.
Then came Roman. Five years older, with twins from his first marriage. He knew about her condition, but it didn’t scare him—he already had children.
He was gentle. Attentive. Loved her truly. She loved him back. They married. Built a quiet life. His children, Oliver and Sophie, warmed to her—kind, well-mannered, bright. They accepted her.
Then—Emily’s visit. Turned everything upside down. The children moved in.
At first, it was hard. Lucy rearranged their lives, turned the spare room into theirs. Helped with homework, ferried them to clubs, worried over them like her own.
Sophie grew especially close. Shared secrets, called her *Mum*. Oliver was quieter but respected her. And Lucy realised—her miracle had happened.
A year later, Emily wanted them back.
*”Enough. I’ve had my break. Send them home,”* she demanded.
Lucy wouldn’t budge.
*”No. Their living arrangements are legal now. They’ve only just settled. Think of them, not yourself.”*
Emily raged, tried guilt. But the children spoke for themselves.
*”We’re staying. With Dad and Lucy.”*
That was that.
Another year passed. The house settled into rhythm. One evening, Roman took Lucy’s hand.
*”You’re their real mother now. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for them.”*
She squeezed his fingers.
*”The doctor once said I’d only be a mother by miracle. Well—here it is. I love them as my own. And I’ll never let them go.”*
