Sunday surprise
808 Words
Sunday morning arrived quietly.
For the first time in weeks, Mathilda felt strong enough to leave the house. The old woman had been encouraging her gently, telling her that fresh air and prayer could heal wounds the world could not see.
Mathilda dressed Elijah carefully.
She wrapped him in a soft blue blanket the old woman had bought for him and placed a tiny cap on his head. He looked peaceful, his small face glowing with innocence.
“You’re going to church with me today,” she whispered softly, kissing his forehead. “We’re going to thank God for keeping us alive.”
The old woman smiled proudly when she saw them.
“You look like a real mother now,” she said warmly.
Mathilda lowered her eyes shyly.
“I am trying.”
The church wasn’t far from the house. The walk was slow, but the morning air felt refreshing. People passed by, some greeting her politely, others simply glancing at the baby with curiosity.
Mathilda kept her head down.
Her heart beat nervously as she stepped inside the church.
The smell of polished wood and soft incense filled the air. The choir was already singing, their voices rising gently toward the ceiling.
Mathilda sat quietly at the back, holding Elijah close to her chest.
For a moment, everything felt peaceful.
She closed her eyes.
“Lord,” she prayed silently, “thank you for saving me that night. Thank you for sending that woman to help me. Please help me be a good mother to Elijah.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around the baby.
“I don’t know what my future looks like… but please don’t leave me.”
Elijah stirred slightly in her arms, and she smiled softly.
The service ended peacefully, and people slowly began leaving the church.
Mathilda stood carefully and adjusted Elijah’s blanket.
She was about to walk out when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Mathilda?”
Her body froze.
Slowly, she turned around.
Standing a few steps away was a girl she knew very well.
Clara.
They had been classmates in high school.
Mathilda’s stomach tightened instantly.
Clara looked at the baby, then back at Mathilda. A slow, mocking smile spread across her face.
“Well, well,” Clara said loudly. “Look who it is.”
Mathilda lowered her eyes.
She hoped the girl would simply walk away.
But Clara stepped closer.
“So the rumors were true,” she continued, glancing at the baby again. “You actually got pregnant.”
A few people nearby began to look at them.
Mathilda felt her face burn with shame.
“I… I have to go,” Mathilda said quietly.
But Clara laughed.
“Go where?” she mocked. “Back to the streets?”
Mathilda’s chest tightened painfully.
“You used to act so innocent in school,” Clara continued. “Always quiet, always pretending to be better than everyone.”
Her eyes moved toward the baby again.
“And now look at you. Carrying a child with no husband.”
The words felt like knives.
Mathilda’s hands trembled slightly as she held Elijah closer.
“I didn’t plan this,” she whispered weakly.
Clara rolled her eyes.
“Oh please,” she scoffed. “Girls like you always say that.”
Mathilda felt tears gathering in her eyes.
People around them were now watching openly.
Clara leaned closer and whispered harshly.
“No wonder your parents threw you out.”
That sentence shattered something inside Mathilda.
Her vision blurred instantly with tears.
She turned quickly and walked away before anyone could see her break down.
The walk back home felt longer than before.
Her chest felt heavy, her mind filled with Clara’s cruel words.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe everyone saw her that way now.
Just a girl who ruined her own life.
By the time Mathilda reached the house, tears were already falling down her face.
The old woman noticed immediately.
“What happened, my child?” she asked gently.
Mathilda couldn’t answer.
She simply held Elijah tighter and cried quietly.
The old woman walked closer and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Did someone hurt you with their words?”
Mathilda nodded slowly.
The old woman sighed softly.
“My daughter,” she said calmly, “people who don’t know your pain will always speak the loudest.”
She lifted Mathilda’s chin slightly.
“But their voices do not decide your future.”
Mathilda looked down at Elijah.
He slept peacefully, unaware of the cruelty of the world.
Slowly, she wiped her tears.
“I will not let their words destroy me,” she whispered.
The old woman smiled proudly.
“That is the spirit of a mother.”
Mathilda held her son close again.
For his sake, she had to become stronger.
- Writer
