**A Honeymoon’s End—Bitter Truth and a Fresh Start**
Emma and James had just returned from their honeymoon in sunny Portugal. She curled up on the sofa and called toward the bathroom,
*”What film shall we watch?”*
*”I don’t know, you choose!”* came her husband’s reply.
Emma switched on his laptop, her gaze drifting absently to the unpacked suitcases in the hallway. *”I’ll sort them tomorrow,”* she muttered, looking away—just as a notification chimed. A message flashed on the screen. She clicked it—and felt like she’d been punched in the gut.
*”Miss you, babe,”* read the text from an unknown Olivia.
*”Don’t be sad, I’ll be back soon,”* James had replied.
The date? The eighth of August. One day before they’d returned home. Emma opened the thread, holding her breath as she read: *”Olivia, last night was magical…” “Are you coming over today?” “Yes, darling, I’ve missed you so much…”*
She snapped the laptop shut. Moments later, James stepped out of the bathroom.
*”Found a film yet? Fancy a comedy?”*
*”Oh, yes… the comedy’s about to begin,”* Emma said icily. *”Who’s Olivia?”*
He froze.
*”Olivia? I—I don’t know any Olivia!”*
*”Really? Then take a look!”* She flung the laptop onto his lap. *”We’ve barely been back from our honeymoon, and you’ve already been sneaking around with another woman?”*
*”Wait… It’s nothing. Just a work do, had too much to drink, she came onto me… It was a mistake! I love you!”*
*”A mistake?”* Emma spat. *”Marrying you was the mistake!”* She stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind her.
In the taxi, she stared blankly out the window, tears streaking her cheeks. *”Is this really happening to me?”*
Outside her parents’ house, her mother met her with wide eyes.
*”Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”*
*”I’m filing for divorce. I won’t stay with a cheat.”*
*”Shh, love… come inside. Let’s talk. You need to calm down.”*
A week passed. Her mother pleaded with her to stay.
*”Why rent a flat? Stay with us as long as you like.”*
*”Mum, I’m thirty. I need my own space.”*
Two days of flat-hunting later, she filed the papers. James still tried—calls, flowers, empty apologies—all ignored.
A month on, Emma had settled into her new place. Two weeks without tears. She buried herself in work, desperate for distraction. But weekends were unbearable—loneliness pressed down like a weight.
One evening, she sat numbly flipping through channels. Ice cream, jam, and complete apathy. Then—a sudden decision.
*”Enough hiding indoors,”* she told herself, stepping outside.
The park was warm and quiet. Lamplight, shifting shadows, couples whispering… But dusk came too quickly. Emma turned back—only to realise she was lost.
Footsteps sounded behind her. She quickened her pace.
*”Excuse me—”* a man’s voice called.
She broke into a run, then tripped. Strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.
*”You alright? Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Daniel.”*
He stepped back, showing empty pockets.
*”Live nearby. Saw you circling the paths…”*
Emma was still tense, but his gentle voice and warm smile softened something inside.
*”I just—can’t find the exit.”*
*”Mind if I walk you out?”*
The stroll passed in a blur. He joked, shared stories, made her laugh… At her building, they slowed.
*”Goodnight, Emma.”*
*”Goodnight, Daniel…”* A tinge of sadness.
*”Shall I wait till you’re inside? Just in case you get lost again,”* he teased.
The next morning, still flustered, she went for coffee—and froze. There, leaning in the doorway of the neighbouring flat, stood Daniel, two cups in hand.
*”Finally awake, sleepyhead? Been waiting all morning. Fancy a coffee?”*
*”You? What are you doing here?”*
*”Living here. Been your neighbour for two weeks. Seen you around but never got the chance to say hello.”*
She stared, baffled. He grinned.
*”Well? Coffee?”*
*”I’m not sure…”*
*”What if I’ve got biscuits?”*
*”…Maybe just one.”*
Her phone rang.
*”Yes, Mum… No, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m staying here. I… I like it here.”*
And for the first time in months, Emma felt warmth. Real, honest warmth.
