A Couple of Days Later

The rain had not stopped.

Emma sat on the edge of the examination table in the medical hut, wearing only a thin shift. The air inside was warmer than outside, but the damp still clung to everything. Rachel stood at the small wooden desk, reviewing the simple test results under the dim oil lamp. Thomasin waited quietly near the door, having come to help with records.

The silence stretched too long.

Rachel finally turned. Her expression was gentle, but there was no softness in the news itself.

“You’re not pregnant, Emma.”

Emma stared at her. For a moment she said nothing. Then she let out a short, disbelieving breath that was almost a laugh.

“Of course I’m not.”

Rachel continued, voice steady. “I’ve checked carefully. No change. At your age, after repeated attempts with no result… the chances of it ever happening are now extremely low. The body simply isn’t responding the way it used to.”

Emma’s hands tightened on the edge of the table. The words landed harder than she expected. Something inside her that she had been holding carefully in place began to crack.

“So that’s it,” she said, voice rising. “All of it. The breeding nights. The waiting. The careful little schedules. All of it for nothing.”

Rachel stepped closer. “Emma—”

“Don’t.” Emma’s voice broke. She pushed off the table, the shift slipping off one shoulder. “I did everything right. I followed every rule. I let them use my body whenever the list said it was my turn. And it still means nothing.”

Her breathing grew uneven. The frustration that had been building for years — the repression, the duty, the quiet hunger she was never allowed to fully feed — came up all at once. She turned and slammed her palm against the wooden wall hard enough to sting.

“I am never going to have a child on this island. I am never going to be more than the woman who teaches the ones who will.”

Thomasin moved forward, hesitant but present. “Emma… you’re more than that to us.”

Emma’s eyes were wet now, though she refused to let the tears fall cleanly. “Am I? Then why does it feel like I’ve already been written out of the future?”

Rachel reached for her, but Emma stepped back, chest heaving. The thin shift clung to her body with sweat and leftover rain. Her full breasts rose and fell rapidly under the fabric. For a moment she looked younger and older at the same time — stripped of the composure she wore like armour.

Rachel’s voice stayed low and firm. “This does not make you less. It changes what the council will allow, nothing more.”

Emma laughed once, sharp and bitter. “That’s the part that hurts the most. Now that I’m no longer useful for breeding, I’m suddenly free to risk dying on the mainland. How convenient.”

Thomasin placed a careful hand on Emma’s arm. Rachel took the other side. Between them they guided her to sit again. Emma resisted for a second, then the strength went out of her. She sat heavily, elbows on her knees, head bowed.

Rachel crouched in front of her.

“I know it hurts,” she said quietly. “I know you’ve carried more than most people see. But you are still needed here. And if the day comes when you decide the risk is worth taking… I will not stand in your way.”

Emma didn’t answer. She only stared at the floor while the rain kept falling outside.

The frustration did not leave her. It settled deeper, harder, and quieter — a cold, sharp thing that would later become one of the strongest reasons she stood in front of the council and asked to leave the island.