Alice set the table, placed a pot of hearty pea soup on the stove, and browned a batch of savory pies filled with potato and cabbage—ever since she was a girl, she’d believed the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. She tried, she hoped, she waited. Five years of marriage, and still nothing. No patter of tiny feet, no midnight cries from a cradle. Doctors would nod reassuringly: “There’s still hope.” But her husband, Edward, dismissed the idea of tests with a wave of his hand. He grew more distant by the day—short-tempered, cold, quicker to anger. And her mother-in-law, Margaret, never missed a chance to lay blame at Alice’s feet.
“You’ve given me no grandchildren because you can’t,” Margaret would snap. “My son is healthy—it’s you who wasted your youth!”
Alice wept through the nights. She visited dozens of specialists, endured procedures, submitted to tests. But none of it mattered without Edward’s cooperation. He saw no reason to support her—just stormed out, slamming the door, shouting that nothing held them together now except the mortgage.
Still, she clung to hope.
…That evening, as always, Alice waited for him to return from work. The scent of home-cooked meals filled the air, but instead of a greeting, she heard:
“What’s this mess in the kitchen?” Edward grumbled, eyeing the unwashed dishes.
“I was cooking…” Alice began, but he cut her off.
“Never mind. Sit. I’ve something to tell you.”
Her heart clenched in her chest.
“All of this…” He gestured around the room. “Everything between us—it’s pointless. There’s someone else. We’re in love. I’m filing for divorce.”
She froze. Just moments ago, there had been warm pies on the table. Now her life was crumbling.
“What about our plans? Our dreams?” Alice whispered.
“I’ve new plans now. I still want a child—just not with you.”
He left. For good.
What followed was a nightmare—court dates, dividing possessions, bitter words, humiliation. Margaret demanded the flat—after all, her “golden boy” had no heir. No one pitied Alice. Not even her mother could comfort her.
“You’re still young,” Evelyn would say. “Your life’s just beginning.”
“I don’t want love. I don’t want any man,” Alice sobbed. “I’m broken.”
But Evelyn refused to give up. She dragged her daughter to doctors, pulled her out of despair, insisted again and again that Alice not give up on herself.
Reluctantly, Alice agreed—if only for her mother’s sake. More tests, more treatments, work, the occasional outing with friends. She tried not to dwell on the past, lived as best she could. And she believed her heart would never open to love again.
Until she met Henry.
“I don’t ask about the past,” he said. “I want to build a future with you.”
“But I might never give you a child,” she confessed.
“Then we’ll have a cat. A dog, if you like. As long as you’re beside me.”
They moved in together. Five months later, they married. Bought a house on a mortgage, adopted a tabby. For the first time in years, Alice laughed. She learned how to be happy—and found she was good at it.
Five years passed. A daughter and a son arrived—Lily and little Jack. Alice could hardly believe it was real. She loved, and was loved in return. Life was gentle now. She rarely thought of the past.
But one day, in town, she crossed paths with Margaret.
“You’re looking well,” the older woman remarked sourly. “Found yourself a wealthy new husband?”
“I’m simply happy,” Alice replied calmly. “And you?”
“Struggling with Edward,” Margaret sighed. “His third wife now. Never the right one. Turns out you were the best of them.”
Alice smiled but said nothing. There was no satisfaction in gloating.
“Do you have children?” Margaret pressed.
“We’re not close enough for such questions,” Alice said politely.
“Edward still has none… Perhaps you two should try again?” Margaret called after her.
“No, thank you,” Alice tossed back without turning.
Only once she rounded the corner did Alice truly understand—everything had happened for a reason. The one who wasn’t meant to stay had left. So the one who truly belonged could find her.
And with him, the ones who made her life worth living.
