He called her a pitiful maid and left for another woman. But when he returned—he got an unexpected answer.
Olivia had heard the same words from her grandmother and mother since she was a child: *“In our family, women are cursed in love.”* Her great-grandmother had been widowed at twenty-two, her grandfather died in a factory accident, and her mother had been left alone with a baby before Olivia even turned three. She didn’t believe in curses, but deep down, she always expected love to end in pain. Even though she wished for warmth, a home, a husband, and children.
She met her future husband—Edward—at the factory where she worked as a packer. He was in a different department, but they ate in the same canteen. That’s how it began. Everything moved quickly: a few dates, a proposal, a wedding. Edward moved into her two-bedroom flat—inherited after her grandmother’s death. Her mother was already gone. At first, life was peaceful. Their first son was born, then the second. Olivia worked tirelessly—cooking, cleaning, raising the boys. Edward worked, brought home money, but came home less often, spoke even less.
When he started staying late, returning exhausted, the scent of another woman’s perfume clinging to his shirt—she knew. She didn’t dare ask, terrified of being left alone with two children. But one day, she broke.
*“Think of the boys. Please. I’m begging you.”*
Silence. Just a cold stare. No explanations. No shouting. The next morning, she set breakfast before him—he didn’t touch it.
*“All you’re good for is being a servant,”* he spat with disgust.
A week later, he was gone. Packed his things and walked out the door.
*“Don’t leave us!”* she sobbed in the hallway. *“The boys need their father!”*
*“You’re a pathetic maid,”* he repeated as he left. Their sons heard it. Two little boys huddled together on the sofa, wondering what they’d done wrong. Why had their father left? Were they to blame?
Olivia refused to crumble. She lived for them. Worked as a cleaner, scrubbed stairwells, carried water by hand, taught the boys to read, washed their clothes without a machine when it broke. The boys grew up fast, helping where they could. She forgot about herself—about being a woman, about dreams. But fate, as always, had surprises in store.
One day in the shop, a bag of tea slipped from her grasp. A stranger picked it up and smiled.
*“Need help with those?”*
*“No, thank you,”* she said automatically.
*“Too late, I’m already helping,”* he said, taking the bags from her.
His name was Arthur. He started coming to that same shop every day. Then he walked her home. Then he appeared at her door, offering to help with chores. The boys were wary at first, but he was kind. Patient. For their first dinner together, he brought cake and white roses. When her eldest joked, *“Were you a rugby player?”* he laughed.
*“Played in school. A long time ago.”*
Later, he admitted the truth.
*“Had an accident. Move slower now. Speech isn’t what it used to be. Wife left. Afraid you’ll want me gone too.”*
*“If the boys are happy with you here—stay,”* she said simply.
He offered her his hand. His heart. Asked to speak with the boys.
*“Maybe I could be a proper father to them.”*
That evening, Olivia explained everything to her sons. They hugged her tight.
*“Our dad left and forgot us,”* the youngest whispered. *“Would be nice to have one who stays.”*
So Arthur became family. He taught the boys how to throw a ball, helped with homework, fixed shelves, joked, encouraged. Friends came over. The house filled with life. Years passed. The boys became men. When her eldest, Thomas, fell in love, he went to Arthur for advice.
And that’s when the doorbell rang.
Edward stood on the doorstep.
*“I was a fool. Take me back. We’ll fix everything—”*
*“Get out,”* Thomas snapped.
*“Is that how you speak to your father?!”* Edward roared.
*“Don’t you dare talk to my son like that,”* Arthur said, voice steel.
*“We don’t need you,”* the youngest added. *“We’ve got someone to call Dad.”*
The door slammed shut. For good.
Olivia stood there, looking at the three men—her protectors, her family, the life she had fought for, rebuilt from nothing.
She was happy. At last.
