**Diary Entry**
The blow came out of nowhere. Emily had gone to her parents’ cottage in the countryside—just for a couple of weeks—to rest, clear her head, and recover after sleepless nights with the baby. Her husband, Oliver, was supposed to pick her up over the weekend as usual. That Saturday morning, she packed the last of the potatoes, tidied the bags, dressed their little boy, and sat by the window, waiting. When a car pulled into the drive, her heart leapt—but instead of Oliver, his grandfather, Albert Thompson, stepped out.
“Where’s Oliver?” she asked, stepping outside, confused. “Could he not make it?”
Albert’s expression was grim. He didn’t mince words.
“He’s alright. But there’s something you need to know… and I thought you should hear it from me.”
Emily froze. A cold dread settled in her stomach. She braced herself.
Oliver’s childhood hadn’t been easy. His father left when he was three—ran off with another woman. His mother, working long shifts, couldn’t manage alone and handed him over to her parents. They’d just retired, still strong, and threw themselves into raising him. They loved him fiercely, treating him like their own son, and even as a grown man, they still saw the little boy who once chased pigeons in the garden.
Oliver studied hard, graduated, landed a decent job in the city. One day, he fell ill and went to the clinic—and there she was. A young nurse, quiet and warm, like sunlight. Emily. She was from the countryside, studying at college, sharing a flat with a friend. They fell in love. Oliver introduced her not to his parents but to his grandparents—his mother and stepfather meant nothing to him. The old couple welcomed her warmly, and after the wedding, they suggested they all live together. The upstairs of their house stood empty.
Emily settled in quickly—gentle, hardworking, kind. Two years later, their son was born. Oliver was happy—for a while. But the baby was restless, crying through the nights, mixing up days and nights. Oliver moved to the spare room. Then he started staying late at work. Emily felt the distance growing, but she didn’t complain—not to him, not to his grandparents.
One day, worn thin, she decided to visit her parents. She told Oliver she’d stay a fortnight. To her surprise, he seemed… relieved. Too quickly. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling. It was no use.
A week passed. And then Oliver turned up at Albert and Margaret’s house—with another woman.
“Meet Jessica,” he said brightly, gesturing to a tall blonde with thick red lips.
“And who’s this?” Albert frowned.
“My girlfriend. She’s moving in with me.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Margaret cut in. “What about Emily? What about your son?”
“We’re divorcing,” Oliver said flatly.
Jessica stepped forward. “Are we standing here all day? Oliver, let’s go. Clearly, we’re not welcome.”
“You’re right,” Albert said sternly. “This isn’t your home.”
The next day, Albert drove to fetch Emily with his great-grandson. She blinked in surprise. “Where’s Oliver? Is he ill?”
“Busy,” Albert muttered. Then, when the moment was right, he told her everything.
Emily wept. Silent tears—the kind that come when you’ve already guessed the truth and were just waiting for someone to say it aloud.
“You’re not a guest here,” Albert said. “You’re family. There’s work nearby, a school down the road. Stay.”
Later, they learned Oliver had rented a flat for himself and Jessica—forgetting his son entirely. Not a penny in support—just silence.
“I can’t live off you,” Emily said one day. “I need to work. But he’s still so small.”
“Then you’ll file for child support,” Albert said firmly. “If he won’t help willingly, the law will make him.”
Oliver raged. Jessica sneered, “Maybe he should get a DNA test. How do we know it’s even his?”
Oliver stayed quiet. He knew.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jessica went on. “His grandparents won’t live forever. Once they’re gone, we’ll throw this nobody out.”
But Albert heard every word. He knew his time wasn’t endless. So one day, he handed Emily a deed—the house was hers now.
“This… this isn’t right,” she whispered. “He’s your grandson.”
“And you’re our family,” Albert said. “He betrayed you. We’re just setting things straight.”
That night, Emily cried for hours. But for the first time—it wasn’t from despair. Her heart was broken, but her soul knew: she wasn’t alone. She had people who truly loved her. And for their sake—she’d stand firm.
