**A Heartbroken by Hope: The Path to New Happiness**
*Diary Entry*
“Emma, it’s over between us.” Daniel’s voice was icy. “I want a proper family—children. You can’t give me that. I’ve filed for divorce. You’ve got three days to pack. Call me when you’re gone. I’ll stay at Mum’s until the flat’s ready for the baby and its mother. Oh, and don’t act surprised—she’s already pregnant. Three days, Emma. That’s all you get.”
Emma stood frozen, the ground slipping beneath her. What could she say? Five years they’d tried for a child, yet each pregnancy ended in loss. The doctors swore she was healthy, but fate had other plans. She’d taken every precaution, lived carefully, especially during those fragile months. Last time, she’d collapsed at work—the ambulance didn’t make it in time.
The door slammed behind Daniel. Exhausted, Emma sank onto the sofa. The thought of packing felt impossible. Where would she go? Before marriage, she’d lived with her aunt, but she’d passed, and her cousin sold the flat. Back to her grandmother’s cottage in Willowbrook? Rent somewhere? And her job? Her mind raced, but time was running out.
The next morning, the door creaked open. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, marched in.
“Still awake? Good,” she sniffed. “I’m here to make sure you don’t take what’s not yours.”
“I’ve no interest in your son’s old socks,” Emma snapped. “Shall we tally up my things instead?”
“Cheeky! You used to be so meek. I told Daniel after the first time—you’d never carry a child.”
“Is that why you’re here? Then keep quiet and watch.”
“Where d’you think you’re going with that china?” Margaret hissed.
“It’s mine. A gift from my aunt—all I have left of her.”
“Leaving the place bare, are you?”
“Not my problem. At least you’ll get your grandson.”
“Take only what’s yours!”
“The laptop, coffee maker, microwave—gifts from colleagues. The car’s mine, bought before the wedding. Daniel has his own.”
“You’ve got everything but can’t give him a child!”
“Not your concern. Seems it wasn’t meant to be.”
“No regrets, eh? Maybe you did it on purpose.”
“Don’t be absurd. The thought of it hurts enough.”
Emma scanned the flat—her belongings were gone. Toothbrush, makeup, slippers… Something was missing. Margaret’s glare distracted her. Then she remembered—the porcelain owl, her grandmother’s keepsake. Inside it, a hidden compartment held earrings and a ring—worthless to anyone else. Daniel had called it junk. Had he thrown it out? She hurried to the balcony.
“What’re you doing out there?” Margaret barked. “Hurry up and get out!”
The owl was there, untouched. Now she could leave.
“Here are the keys. Goodbye. Let’s not meet again.”
At the office, she requested leave. Her boss sighed.
“We’re all sorry for you,” he said. “But we’re swamped. Three weeks enough? Stay reachable—half the projects hinge on you.”
“Fine. The distraction’ll help. Thanks.”
“Need anything?”
“No.”
“I’ll sort your holiday pay and bonus.”
“Cheers for that.”
Emma didn’t bother flat-hunting. She drove straight to Willowbrook. Her grandmother’s cottage had stood empty since her death three years prior. Emma’s mother had died in childbirth—now she, too, would never be a mother.
An hour later, she arrived. The old oak tree, the overgrown daisies. Last autumn, she and Daniel had barbecued here. She parked in the drive—the shed key was inside. Pushing the door open, she froze. Silence. But on the table—dirty mugs, plates. She’d cleaned up last visit. Someone had been here.
Two mugs, empty juice cartons, bottles of Daniel’s favourite sparkling wine. Not from autumn. So he’d returned. With whom?
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered. New locks first. A fresh start—cleaning, a hot bath. Wash the past away.
A sudden knock at the door, then the window.
“Who’s there?”
“Everything alright?”
“Yes…?”
A stranger stood outside.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I’m your neighbour. Saw you bustling about earlier. Then you vanished, and smoke from the chimney—just checking in.”
“Thanks, I’m fine.”
“You related to Daniel? He was here recently with a woman… Sister?”
“No. Nearly ex-wife. Divorce pending.”
“The cottage yours?”
“Yes.”
“I’m staying nearby—my mate’s place. Divorced too. If you need help, just ask. I’m James.”
“Emma. Wait—can you change a lock?”
“Sure. When?”
“Soon as possible. I’ll buy one tomorrow.”
“Let me handle it—save you getting the wrong sort. I’m heading into town anyway.”
“Alright.”
Two weeks passed. A week of leave remained, but Emma wasn’t ready to return. Daniel stayed silent, only sending divorce papers. A blessing—she couldn’t face him.
That Saturday, James invited her for a walk by the river. She wasn’t looking for romance, but a stroll seemed harmless. They laughed, shared stories, and returned by lunch. Daniel’s car idled outside. He’d just arrived.
The car door opened. Daniel stepped out, helping a heavily pregnant woman.
Emma and James approached the gate. Daniel wrestled with the lock, scowling.
“What’s this?” he snapped.
“What are *we* doing?” Emma called. “Breaking into someone’s home?”
Daniel paled.
“It’s *our* house!” the woman shrilled.
“Really? Who told you that? Daniel? This is *my* home. Leave.”
“Dan, what’s she on about? Is this your ex? Get rid of her!”
Emma and James burst out laughing. Daniel wordlessly bundled the woman into the car and sped off.
“His life’s about to get interesting,” James remarked.
“At least she’ll give him a child. I couldn’t. Three times. I’m sorry.”
“My wife left *because* she didn’t want kids…”
Four years later, Emma bumped into Margaret at the shops.
“Emma! I barely recognised you! You’re—pregnant?”
“Yes.” Emma smiled, resting a hand on her bump.
“Daniel’s in a right state. His boy’s poorly—something hereditary. The wife left him, abandoned the child. You’re alone, then? Doing this solo?”
“No, I’ve a family now. Best be off—they’re waiting.”
“Forgive me, for everything—”
“Wish you strength.”
Margaret watched as Emma walked away, hand in hand with James. Their little girl, the spitting image of her mother, skipped beside them.
*Lesson learnt: Life’s cruelest twists often lead you where you’re meant to be. And sometimes, the family you lose makes room for the one you’re meant to have.*
