**Shattered Illusions**
Emily and James got married ten years ago in Bristol. Their family seemed like the picture of happiness—two kids, a cosy home, and big plans for the future. They were saving up for a bigger house, and their parents, who had become close friends, supported them in everything. But then, like a bolt from the blue, life cracked apart: James fell seriously ill. A few days later, the doctors delivered a worrying diagnosis, adding:
*“This is preliminary. Don’t lose hope—we’re waiting for the results.”*
But James didn’t wait. That same evening, he didn’t come home. Emily, frantic with worry, called every friend and hospital she could think of. When the front door finally clicked open in the morning, she rushed to meet her husband. But at the sight of him, she froze, unable to believe her eyes.
Emily had always considered her family perfect. Love, understanding, shared dreams—it all felt unshakeable. But one night dismantled her world.
She had married James for love. Her parents, though surprised by her choice, hadn’t objected. On their wedding day, they’d gifted the newlyweds the keys to a refurbished two-bedroom flat. Emily and James had been overjoyed—no more rental struggles, no more moving.
Their love was their greatest treasure. Emily, a girl from a well-off family, and James, the son of working-class parents, were opposites, but their feelings smoothed every edge. His parents had given them a modest slow cooker as a wedding gift—a stretch for them, with their mortgage and two younger siblings to support. Emily’s parents, understanding their situation, covered the wedding costs, reassuring the in-laws:
*“Don’t worry, we’ll make it perfect. Emily’s our only daughter!”*
*“What lovely people,”* James’s parents had thought, relief washing over them.
The families quickly grew close. Emily’s parents often helped—handing down a barely used telly, delivering a near-new fridge, or passing along clothes, sometimes still with tags. For James’s folks, it felt like winning the lottery. Shared holidays, trips to Emily’s parents’ countryside home—it all became tradition. The in-laws became family.
Emily and James thrived too. They got along, supported each other, raised their son and daughter. Inspired by Emily, James even earned his degree through night classes. She worked for her father’s successful firm, earning more than him—until James landed a promising job, balancing their incomes.
They dreamed of a spacious house where each child would have their own room.
*“Just imagine,”* Emily mused, *“kids playing in their own spaces, and us relaxing in the lounge!”*
*“Can’t picture it,”* James laughed. *“I’m used to our little squeeze.”*
*“It felt bigger when you were away at uni,”* Emily teased. *“But empty without you. Glad that’s behind us.”*
*“Now we’re stuck with each other,”* James said softly, pulling her into a hug.
Two harmonious years flew by. Savings grew, in-laws stayed close, kids thrived. Then, out of nowhere—everything collapsed. James fell ill. The doctor signed him off work and sent him for tests. Days later came the grim news:
*“It’s not confirmed yet,”* the doctor said. *“We’re waiting.”*
James didn’t wait. That night, he didn’t come home. Knowing his state, Emily called everyone she could. The sleepless night stretched endlessly. When the door opened at dawn, she rushed to him—then froze. James was drunk, eyes bloodshot, clothes reeking of smoke.
*“What’s wrong with you?”* she whispered, horror clawing at her throat.
*“What’s it to you?”* he snapped, an unfamiliar venom in his voice.
*“A lot,”* she said quietly, heart squeezing.
*“And?”* He wiped his nose, staring her down.
*“Nothing. Go to bed. I’ve got work.”* Emily forced calm into her voice, though inside, she was boiling.
Outside, she scrambled for excuses: *He’s scared, that’s all. He’ll sleep it off, we’ll talk. He’s strong—we’ll manage.* But the image of him—slurring, hostile—wouldn’t leave her.
She spent the day on edge, rehearsing how to comfort him, how to keep hope alive. The kids were at her parents’, so she fibbed:
*“Mum, swamped at work—can they stay a few more days?”*
*“Of course, love!”* her mum chirped.
Emily exhaled. Three hours left on her shift, but she couldn’t take it—she went home early.
What she saw shattered her. James sat at the kitchen table, methodically emptying bottle after bottle. The flat stank of cigarettes—he’d been smoking inside, something he’d never done. He didn’t even glance up.
*“What are you doing?”* Her voice shook. *“You’ve got tests soon!”*
James lifted bleary eyes. *“Oh, it’s you,”* he rasped. *“Go on, then. Have a go.”*
*“Have a go at what?”* she faltered.
*“The lecture,”* he drawled. *“Bet you’ve got one ready.”*
*“James, please,”* she pleaded, sitting beside him. *“You’re not alone. Nothing’s certain yet. If it’s bad, we’ll manage. The house can wait. I’m here.”*
She reached for him—but he shoved her away.
*“Get off me,”* he said coldly. *“Don’t need your pity.”*
Emily recoiled but steadied herself. *“I’ll always be here. And my parents will help—”*
*“Your parents?”* James exploded. *“Of course! Saintly Mum and Dad! Always swooping in to ‘rescue’ me!”*
*“What are you saying?”* she whispered.
*“You heard me,”* he spat, pacing. *“I’m sick of you all treating me like some charity case! The flat, the hand-me-downs, the clothes—think I owe you forever? You and your lot have been looking down on us for years!”*
Emily stood dumbstruck. His words scalded her.
*“That’s not true,”* she managed.
*“Got nothing else to say?”* he sneered. *“You make me sick.”*
*“Then why stay?”* Her voice trembled.
*“Why not?”* He gave a bitter laugh. *“Easy life. But I’m done. Done with you. Done with your family.”*
*“Then leave,”* she breathed.
*“Not without my share,”* he shot back. *“Half those savings are mine.”*
He raided the safe, stuffed cash into a bag, and stalked out, tossing over his shoulder:
*“Don’t call me. I’m not coming back.”*
Emily crumpled onto a chair, numb. *Thank God the kids aren’t here,* she thought.
By morning, clarity hit. She called her parents. *“I need to come home,”* she said.
*“What’s happened?”* her dad demanded.
She told them everything. The next day, she filed for divorce.
*“Are you sure?”* her mum fretted. *“After all these years…”*
*“Yes,”* Emily said firmly. *“Last night, I met a stranger. He hates me. Hates you. I won’t live like that.”*
*“He’s unwell,”* her mother tried.
*“Didn’t seem unwell to me,”* Emily sighed. *“But even if he is—he chose this. I’ve got the kids to raise.”*
She was right. James’s diagnosis never came. The divorce dragged—he skipped court, threatened custody battles. Emily compromised: no alimony, just peace. He agreed.
*“You’re letting him off too easy,”* her dad said.
*“No,”* Emily replied. *“I just want him gone.”*
*“How didn’t you see this coming?”* he asked.
*“I don’t know,”* she murmured. *“Either he was a brilliant actor, or I was blind.”*
James vanished. No calls, no visits. The kids didn’t miss him. Emily, jaw set, started anew—her dreams of a happy family lying in pieces at her feet.
