**Lena’s Story: From Heartbreak to Real Happiness**
*”Lena, remember how we promised to always be honest with each other? Well… I’ve fallen in love. With someone else. I’m sorry, but I’m leaving. She’s *the one*—the woman I want to grow old with. She’s… extraordinary. Like the stars. What we have is real, huge, like the universe itself!”*
As Daniel spoke, his eyes glittered with bliss, like a man who’d lost his marbles. Across from him, Lena gripped the back of a chair, steadying herself.
*”Are you serious, Dan? ‘Love of your life’? What am I, then? Or have you forgotten we have a *daughter*? A year and a half, Dan. A year and a half! I’ve been at home, not working, while you—at thirty-five—suddenly take off into the clouds to ‘follow your heart’?”*
*”Lena, I just—”* He floundered, then, as if reality was too much, retreated into the bathroom with his phone—presumably to commune with the cosmos via WhatsApp.
That night, Lena sobbed, clutching little Emily as she slept. She didn’t sleep a wink, and the next morning, she dragged herself to her mother-in-law’s, hair in a messy ponytail, baby bundled haphazardly.
*”Oh, Lena, love, you’ve got to keep a tighter grip on your man. Look at you—scruffy jumper, no effort. No wonder he wandered off. These days, everything’s fast. Danny just knew he’d found *the one*. You’re not the first wife he’s left, won’t be the last. Bring Emily round if you need help. Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone too,”* Maureen said, waving a hand as if discussing a spoiled supermarket purchase rather than a family.
Walking home, Lena felt something inside her shrivel up—hope, illusions, daydreams. All dead.
She cried for three more days. Then she wiped her face, squared her shoulders, and did the sensible thing: filed for child support (*”Thanks, government!”*) and divorce. No more pretending this could be fixed. Let Daniel have the freedom he’d so dramatically chosen.
Maureen occasionally tossed her a lifeline—a pack of nappies like a papal blessing, fifty quid for *”treats”* with the air of a philanthropist. Lena’s own mum, living up in Manchester, sent what she could, sighing over the phone about life’s unfairness. Lena listened, gritted her teeth, and carried on.
A year passed. Emily started nursery. Lena went back to work. The first months were hell—sick days, coughs, tears, sleepless nights. But bit by bit, life settled. There was something oddly freeing about this new normal—no lies, no walking on eggshells. Sometimes, watching the grumpy, half-arsed dads at drop-off, she’d think, *”Thank God I’m doing this alone.”*
Then, one day, Maureen called.
*”Lena, love! Wonderful news! Danny’s going to be a dad again, can you believe it?”*
*”Lovely. Best wishes to the mum,”* Lena muttered. And—surprise!—it didn’t hurt. At all.
A week later, another call. This time, hysterics.
*”Lena! Disaster! Danny’s had a car crash! His Ford’s totalled, he’s in intensive care! He’ll be disabled, the poor lamb!”*
Lena went quiet. She *did* feel sorry—he was Emily’s dad, after all. But sorry wasn’t the same as stupid.
Two days later, Maureen rang again.
*”You *have* to take him in, Lena. Nurse him back. I’ll help!”*
*”Have to? Why?”*
*”You’re practically still married! And Emily needs her father! He *adored* her, asked about her all the time! He made a mistake, that’s all!”*
*”His mistake, his problem. Let his ‘soulmate’ look after him.”*
*”She *left* him! Said she didn’t sign up for a cripple! One hospital visit and she bolted, the heartless cow!”*
*”Sounds familiar. But not my circus, not my monkeys. He walked out, forgot we existed, paid peanuts in child support. Where was *his* duty then?”*
*”You’re *cruel*! I’ll tell Emily how you abandoned her dad!”*
*”Go ahead. Start with how *he* walked out when she was a baby. Or how he vanished when she had night terrors. I’m not scared of the truth.”*
In the end, Maureen took Danny in. He survived, learned to hobble with a cane. And then, Lena bumped into an old friend—one who’d known them as a couple.
*”Lena, you know Maureen’s telling everyone *you* left Danny while he was in a coma? That there *was* no other woman, just you cold-heartedly divorcing him? And that *you* keep Emily from him? Oh, and apparently he crashed because he was *devastated* over you…”*
Lena walked home in stunned silence. How could anyone spin *that* web of lies? Worse—how could people *believe* it?
Emily skipped beside her, chattering away.
*”Mummy, Mummy, we’re home! Why’re you sad? Is it Granny? Daddy?”*
Lena nodded, throat tight.
*”Don’t worry. I’ll be good for both of them. I love you *so much*, Mummy.”*
And then, hugging her daughter, Lena felt it—a strange lightness, like someone had lifted a sack of bricks off her back. The anger faded. Let them talk. Let them lie. The *real* truth was right here: small arms around her neck, eyes full of love.
*This* was happiness. Not fairy tales about “forever.” Not grand promises. Just this—a child’s pure, simple love, and the quiet certainty that everything would, somehow, be okay.
And it would.
