**Diary Entry**
*First, she grew old, now she’s ill too! That’s it—I’m filing for divorce!* Edward snapped, slamming the door behind him. Little did he know how badly he’d misjudged things…
Sarah sat at the kitchen table, gripping her phone. The voice on the other end delivered news so unexpected that, for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Her thoughts raced, but none formed a clear plan. What now? The question pounded inside her, but no answer came. She had no intention of sharing her troubles—she’d learned long ago that people rarely celebrate others’ happiness and even less often offer real sympathy. Words are one thing; what’s truly in someone’s heart is another.
There was a time she could’ve confided in her parents. They’d been her rock. But they were gone now, and she missed them more than ever. Edward? Once, she’d trusted him completely, but lately, he’d grown distant. More and often, he made sly remarks about age, hinting that her autumn years had arrived too soon. One day it was an article about women ageing faster than men, the next a passing jab about her letting herself go.
But Sarah couldn’t see how she’d changed. She still visited the hairdresser, painted her nails herself after a bad salon experience, and dressed stylishly. Of course, time left its mark—but Edward wasn’t getting any younger either. Other couples their age still strolled hand in hand, laughing and making plans. Meanwhile, Sarah spent more evenings alone—Edward now “worked late,” though she knew better than to believe it.
She refused to burden the children. Emily, her daughter, had just married and was expecting her first child, while James studied in another city. No, she wouldn’t trouble them. But one thing was certain: she needed to talk to Edward. Let him admit, once and for all, whether he was still the man she’d fallen for.
That evening, she met him at the door, her expression serious.
*“Something wrong?”* he asked, noticing her look.
*“Yes,”* Sarah took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. *“I’ve had some difficult news from the doctor. If I need help, will you be there?”*
Edward shifted uncomfortably. *“What sort of news?”*
*“That’s not the point,”* she replied. *“The question is, will you stay if things get hard?”*
He exhaled, ran a hand over his face, and sank into the armchair. *“Sarah… you’ve given me an opening here. I’ve been meaning to say this for a while. Truth is, I’m leaving. You’ve aged too fast, and now there’s this illness… I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to be a carer. I’ve got my own life to live. There’s… someone else. You’ll manage—you always do.”*
He stood abruptly, strode to the bedroom, and stuffed a bag with his things. *“I’ll collect the rest later. Get well. No hard feelings.”*
The door slammed. Sarah didn’t cry. She only smiled wearily: *“And there it is.”*
Days passed. Sarah sat by the window, pondering her next steps, when the phone rang. James’ name flashed on the screen.
*“Mum, you home?”* he asked cheerfully.
*“Of course. When are you visiting?”*
*“That’s the surprise! I’ve been placed for my internship back home! Can you believe it?”*
Sarah laughed. *“Best news I’ve had in ages.”* For the first time in forever, her heart felt lighter.
A week later, James was back. That evening, Sarah finally confided in him. *“James, I’ve learned something… important,”* she began. *“A solicitor called. Turns out, my parents weren’t my birth parents. My real mother abandoned me as a baby and left for abroad with a wealthy man. She recently became a widow, hired a detective to find me… but died in a plane crash before we could meet. Now, I’m being offered an inheritance.”*
James whistled. *“Blimey! You having second thoughts?”*
*“Yes. How do I accept money from someone who abandoned me?”*
*“Mum, if you refuse, it’ll go to strangers. This way, you’re secure.”*
*“You’re right. But I don’t even know where to start. No passport, no language…”*
*“We’ll sort it,”* James said firmly. *“I’ll find a solicitor.”*
Days later, Sarah stood on foreign soil, her guide, William—a sharp, experienced solicitor—beside her. *“Sarah,”* he admitted, *“I nearly turned this case down. But something told me meeting you would matter.”*
She smiled.
The paperwork was settled, though selling the estate took time. William showed her the city, its landmarks. Slowly, Sarah realised something: for the first time in years, she felt… happy.
When all was done, William walked her to the airport. *“I’ll miss you,”* he said simply.
*“Then visit,”* she replied softly.
*“I will.”*
Back home, Sarah divided the money fairly: a flat for James, a trust for Emily, the rest in savings.
She never thought of Edward—until the day he turned up on her doorstep, dishevelled and reeking of drink. *“Sarah… take me back,”* he slurred.
*“Leave.”*
*“Who else would want you?”* he sneered.
Just then, the lift doors opened. William stepped out, a bouquet in hand. *“Good evening, Sarah,”* he said warmly.
Edward paled.
*“Go,”* Sarah repeated, shutting the door.
Two years on, Sarah became a grandmother. William proposed, and she said yes. Then came a call from the hospital—Edward had suffered a stroke, asking to see them.
James grumbled, *“I wouldn’t go.”*
*“Son,”* Sarah said gently, *“forgiveness is what makes us human.”*
So they went. In the hospital bed lay a frail, aged Edward. *“Sorry…”* he whispered.
Sarah shook her head. *“I’ll arrange a carer. But that’s all.”*
That evening, in the garden, William took her hand. *“Regrets?”*
*“None,”* she said, smiling. *“Without him, I’d never have known true happiness.”*
**Lesson Learnt:** Life’s cruelest twists sometimes lead to the kindest blessings. And sometimes, the best revenge is simply moving on—and finding joy where you least expected it.
