Well, at long last… or is it just the beginning?
When Emily married James, she never imagined her husband had long been trapped in the grip of addiction. They’d met in a whirlwind—fast, dizzying, overwhelming—and within weeks, he’d proposed, slightly drunk, reeking of alcohol as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Emmy, what d’you say we tie the knot?” he slurred, grinning.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” She huffed, more surprised than angry. After all, she’d wanted to marry—her friends all had rings already.
“Just celebrating,” James laughed. “Isn’t this a happy occasion? I just proposed!”
“Fine, but on one condition—only drinking on holidays,” she warned.
“Well, today’s my holiday,” he shot back.
Young and naive, Emily had no idea James’s father had been drinking his whole life. And his son had long followed suit, though his mother, Margaret, could only protest weakly.
“You’ve ruined yourself, and now you’re dragging him down too!” she’d scold.
“Let him be a proper bloke,” his father would smirk, pouring James a shot at dinner.
After the wedding, the couple moved into a small flat Emily had inherited from her grandmother. At first, things were bearable—James worked, came home regularly, though always with that telltale smell. He always had an excuse:
“Rob’s just had a baby—had to celebrate! Mike’s birthday, couldn’t skip a toast… And Dave had us over—couldn’t say no.”
Then their son, Oliver, was born. But fatherhood didn’t sober James. He came home less and avoided the baby.
“Why won’t you spend time with your son?” Emily would ask.
“You’re the one who says not to breathe on him when I’ve been drinking,” he’d shrug.
“Then stop drinking! How long can this go on?” Tears would trail down her cheeks.
Eight years passed. Alcohol became James’s whole life. Jobs came and went. Emily carried the weight alone, though Margaret helped—buying things for Oliver, slipping her money when needed.
“Emily’s a saint,” Margaret confided in her sister. “But James… he’s getting worse. I don’t even recognise him anymore.”
James became a ghost of himself—hollow-cheeked, missing teeth, devoid of spark. No love, no care, nothing left.
“Leave him,” everyone urged—friends, coworkers, even neighbours.
But Emily pitied him. Like a stray dog. Until she realised Oliver was growing up, watching, absorbing it all—already avoiding the house that reeked of ruin.
Then she told Margaret:
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Maybe he could get help?” Margaret whispered. “Maybe it’s not too late?”
“How long did you try with his father?” Emily gave a bitter smile. “I want Oliver to grow up different. Better he never sees his dad again.”
Margaret sighed.
“Where will he go? To us, of course. What else can I do?”
But there was another reason. Emily had long felt something for her colleague, Daniel. New to the office, he was well-kept, fair-haired, with piercing blue eyes and old-fashioned manners. Divorced, no drama, moved to town to be near his father. Women in the office—subtly or not—tried catching his eye, but Daniel kept his distance.
When Emily filed for divorce, James didn’t even blink. Bags by the door, a short talk, and he was gone—back to his parents.
Two weeks later, Daniel approached her after work.
“Emily, fancy a coffee? Just to talk.”
She nodded, cheeks warm. Over coffee, between laughter and quiet words, he finally said:
“I knew right away—you weren’t just a colleague. You’re it for me.”
From that night, everything changed. There were whispers at work, especially from Lucy.
“Would you believe it? Our quiet one snagged Daniel. And here I was trying so hard.”
Emily just shrugged. She didn’t owe explanations.
Soon, Daniel proposed—a simple ring, sincere eyes, and her heart beat fast again.
That Saturday, she invited Margaret over. The flat smelled of fresh scones, tea steaming on the table.
“I’ve got news,” Emily said, pulse racing. “I’m getting married. To Daniel.”
Margaret froze. Then… she hugged Emily, tears in her eyes.
“Well, at long last. Love, you deserve this. I’ll help with the wedding—we’ll make it perfect!”
As they sat planning dresses, flowers, guests, Emily realised—she hadn’t just kept an ex-mother-in-law. She’d gained a friend. And Margaret? She’d found the daughter she never had.
