**Diary Entry – 28th May**
“Mum, I’m off to the cinema with Emily tonight! Keep your phone close, yeah?” Tom called out, kissing Marina on the cheek before disappearing into the bathroom. She could hear him humming under his breath, the sound of running water blending with his careless tune. Happy… free. The way she’d never been. “Mum, I’m leaving!” He popped his head back around the door, grinning in his favourite blue shirt. “Good luck, love!” Marina waved as he left, then sank into her armchair. A quiet ping from her phone—another message. She opened it absently… and froze.
A muffled sob broke the evening silence. Marina lay curled into herself, clutching her knees, silent tears soaking into the pillow.
“Mum, you alright?” Tom had come back early, concern etched across his face. She wiped her eyes hastily, forcing a smile.
“Just tired, sweetheart.”
He sat beside her, studying her face. A grown man now—tall, composed, with the same charming grin he’d had as a boy. Only now, it was more often meant for his Emily than for her…
Memories crashed over her without warning. Eighteen. James. Married. A love so fierce it stole her breath. The naive belief that love alone could conquer anything. But… it hadn’t.
“Mum! Where’s my blue shirt?” Tom’s voice snapped her back.
“Top drawer, left side!” she called back, managing a faint chuckle.
She caught her reflection in the mirror. Forty-two. Eyes heavy with a sorrow no one noticed anymore. As if life had paused somewhere in the past…
She remembered that day clearly. A Tuesday. The corner shop. Bread, milk. And… James. A shopping bag in one hand, baby formula in the other. Nappies. His smile faltered before his eyes gave him away.
“It’s… not what you think,” he’d muttered.
“Oh? Should I think you’re just babysitting for… what’s her name? Jane?!”
Then came the blur. Shouting. Divorce. The hollow quiet of being alone. But also… freedom.
She’d learned to live without him. Without the rows. Her mother-in-law had stayed by her side, a quiet support. She’d raised her son, relearned how to smile… tried to forget the betrayal.
Sometimes, though, it still crept up—like today, watching Tom hug Emily goodbye, their love built on something steady, no silly promises of “forever.”
Another ping. A friend request. Paul… bloody hell, was that Paul from school?!
The playground flashed in her mind. Her, the prettiest girl in class. Him, waiting by the gates with a handful of daisies. Then James had swept in, and Paul faded into the past.
“Liz, you’ll never believe it—Paul from school just messaged!”
“That one who fancied you rotten till graduation?” Liz cackled. “James used to lose his mind over him!”
“He just sent a friend request.”
“So accept it! I heard he’s doing well—something in finance, divorced now…”
The next few weeks felt like magic. Messages. Flirting. Laughing till dawn. Paul was witty, attentive, effortless. But now there was a certainty about him—a man who’d lived a life.
“Tom,” she ventured one evening, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet…”
“Paul?” Tom grinned. “Mum, it’s obvious. You’re glowing. I’m happy for you.”
Tears welled up. But soon, Paul’s replies grew shorter. Rarer. Until—
*”Marina, sorry. There’s someone else. You chose James once—it hurt. Now you know how it feels.”*
She stared at the screen, numb. A grown man… holding a grudge for twenty bloody years?
“Right, no more crying!” Liz bustled in. “Let’s give this prat a piece of our minds.”
They crafted a reply—equal parts humour, bite, and relief:
*”Dear Paul, thank you! I haven’t laughed, flirted, or felt this alive in years. You made me feel twenty again. Hope your new lady appreciates your theatrics. X (platonically). Marina.”*
His reply was instant—a torrent of outrage. But Marina was already laughing. Properly, for the first time in ages.
Then, a week later, a blonde woman cornered her in Tesco:
“You! Homewrecker! You ruined Paul and me!”
Marina blinked. Then—unexpectedly—she smiled.
“Oh, love, you’ve got the wrong woman. The real wreckers over on Oak Street. Number 15. Jane nicked my husband first, now she’s after yours. Proper professional.”
The woman gaped. Marina, biting back laughter, walked off, picturing Jane’s face…
Evening sunlight warmed her skin. And suddenly, she realised—she was happy. Just like this. No man. No drama. No need to prove a thing.
A text from Tom:
*”Mum, Emily’s moving in. We’ll see how it goes. Wedding after, maybe?”*
Marina smiled. This—this was real happiness. Watching her son choose wisely.
And her? She’d just… live. No fear. No past. Only hope.
Because life doesn’t stop at betrayal. It starts when you learn to love yourself.
