Husband left a note and walked out: “I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”
“Your mum called—your brother’s getting a divorce,” Olivia tossed out over dinner, watching her husband. Victor stayed silent, staring at his plate. “Why so quiet? You on his side? He’s leaving his three kids!” Olivia felt fury bubbling inside her.
“Liv, calm down,” Victor pushed his plate away. “He’s not abandoning them. If they’re divorcing, there’s a reason.” He stood and left the kitchen, leaving her bewildered. His icy indifference stung. The next day, Olivia returned from work to find a letter on the table—and froze, as if struck by lightning.
For 27 years, Olivia and Victor had shared a cosy flat in Nottingham. And now—divorce. How? How could two people who’d walked side by side for decades just… drift apart? And their daughter? Olivia couldn’t fathom their life crumbling like this.
They’d met when Olivia, a wide-eyed student from a tiny market town, moved to Nottingham for university. After exams, she and a friend strolled along the River Trent, where lads with guitars played on a bench. Olivia, a sucker for folk tunes, stopped to listen. That’s when Victor ambled over, grinning, eyes sparkling. And so their story began.
They dated long-distance—Olivia studied remotely, commuting for exams. No mobiles back then, just handwritten letters stuffed with longing. Love grew, and a year later, they married in a modest ceremony. They scraped by in a rented flat. Olivia worked, studied, cared for Victor’s ailing mum. Children took time—eight years later, their daughter, Emily, arrived. Olivia called it a miracle.
“Divorce” sounded like a death sentence. The end of everything. She couldn’t imagine life without Victor—tall, steady, family always his anchor. They weren’t perfect. Olivia worked late; the house often fell to him. But until recently, it worked.
Then Victor’s brother announced his divorce, leaving his wife with three kids. Olivia panicked: What if her husband had someone, too? “Midlife crisis,” she muttered, eyeing Victor over dinner. His silence unnerved her.
“You’re defending him?” she snapped. “He’s abandoning his kids!”
“Liv, drop it,” Victor cut in. “They’ve got their reasons.”
She didn’t drop it. She hounded him—calling incessantly, dissecting every conversation. Once easygoing, she now saw ghosts in every glance. Victor withdrew, fueling her suspicion.
Last summer, Emily left for uni in London. Olivia went with her to find a flat. She never imagined she’d return to an empty home. Victor didn’t meet her at the station. Didn’t answer calls. Just a note on the kitchen table. She unfolded it, and the floor dropped away.
“Liv, no easy way to say this… I filed for divorce. I waited till Emily was grown. You didn’t notice, but I changed. I endured your nitpicking, kept house while you buried yourself in work. We’ve nothing in common now. The love faded. Four years ago, I met someone. We have a son—he’s three. I’m leaving. I’ll always support Emily. The flat’s yours. Forgive me, if you can.”
Olivia slid to the floor. No tears—just numbness. The flat, once warm, felt hollow. Her life, shattered. How to tell Emily? How to live knowing he’d loved another for years, just biding his time?
She stepped outside. Rain had poured for days, matching her mood—but today, sun blazed. At the kerb, she spotted Maggie, their neighbour. Five years ago, Maggie and her husband crashed their car. He died; she was left paralyzed. Olivia often saw her in the park, alone but smiling.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Maggie chirped. “Help me down the ramp?”
Silently, Olivia obliged. Maggie thanked her, then asked, “Fancy a stroll?” Olivia nodded, unsure why. They weren’t close—but today, she needed something alive beside her.
In the park, they settled under an ancient oak. Quiet at first. Then Maggie spoke: “When Pete and I crashed, we’d dreamed of kids, a cottage in the Cotswolds. Gone in a blink. A lorry swerved into us. Pete died. I woke up thinking, ‘Why bother?’ Rehab was hell. Then Pete visited me in a dream: ‘Live, Mags—for both of us. Savour every sunrise, every raindrop.’ So I did. Found remote work, reconnected with mates. Last year, I met a bloke. Asked me out. I thought the wheelchair’d scare him off—but he didn’t care. Now we’re happy. Life’s brighter.”
“Sorry, rambling on,” Maggie chuckled. “Shall I scoot off?”
“No,” Olivia whispered. “You’ve helped. My husband left today. I thought it was the end. But you’re right—life doesn’t stop.”
Maggie smiled. “You’ll be alright. At least he was honest. No more lies.”
Olivia gazed ahead. By the café, a man waved at Maggie. She wheeled toward him, and Olivia murmured, “I’ll be alright, too.”
That chat changed her. Divorce was agony—but not the end. Life rolled on. And Olivia? She was ready to roll with it.
