After her divorce from her husband, Marianna took a long time to recover. She had loved her husband, Ivor, with all her heart—just the way she was, wholehearted in everything she did. When she loved, she loved completely, giving herself entirely to her husband and her son. Of course, with her son, it was different—every woman knows her child is the one man in her life she could never stop loving, no matter what.
Oliver had decided after finishing school to dedicate his life to helping others, so he enrolled in medical school. Marianna had assumed he’d stay close by, but he chose a university miles away from home. Ivor couldn’t have cared less—he was indifferent to most things.
“Oh, come on, Marianna,” he’d say. “If Oliver wants to be a doctor, let him. It’s his life, his business.”
Their son had dreamed of this since childhood.
“Mum, you know I’ve always wanted to help people. This shouldn’t surprise you. I know you’d love for me to stay nearby, but I’m a grown man now. We won’t see each other as often, but I promise I’ll visit when I can. You know how much I love you—you’re the most amazing, most precious mother in the world. Never forget that. No matter what, I’ll always be there if you need me.” With that, Oliver packed his bags.
He was leaving for his final year before graduation.
“Darling, I know I can count on you. Thank you for your kindness. Besides, your father’s still here. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us—about me. Everything will be alright.”
After finishing university, Oliver married, found work in London, and soon had a daughter. Marianna longed to see them more often, but distance made it hard, so she waited for his visits.
She and Ivor had been married for twenty-five years. On the surface, their life seemed settled—she was beautiful, educated, clever. Ivor had courted her for years back in university, slipping quietly into her life despite her many suitors.
She was never one for quarrels, smoothing over conflicts at home and work with tact and grace. Ivor, on the other hand, was brash and abrupt. Yet she’d found a way to handle him, even helping him build his business from the ground up—a car repair and servicing venture. She’d helped draft the business plan and worked alongside him every step of the way.
One afternoon, Marianna met her friends Catherine and Alice at a café. Catherine had just become a grandmother, and the three of them had been close for years. Alice worked with Marianna, while Catherine was a homemaker, married with a large country house where they sometimes gathered. Today, though, they’d met in town.
As usual, they chatted about their lives, children, and husbands. Then, out of nowhere, Catherine asked:
“Marianna… Do you trust Ivor completely?”
“Of course. We have no secrets. Why?” Marianna tensed.
Catherine and Alice exchanged glances before Catherine continued:
“I’ve seen him a few times—at a café, then the supermarket—with a young woman. She was holding his arm. I watched them for a while. He didn’t notice me, too wrapped up in her. Same girl every time.”
Marianna stared at them, bewildered.
“Oh, girls… Maybe she’s from his office? He’s got a few women working there. Honestly, I’ve never noticed anything. Yes, he’s late sometimes, but he has so many clients—he can’t say no to everyone.”
After that conversation, Marianna watched Ivor more closely, questioning his delays—but eventually, she let it go.
Until the day a young woman, visibly pregnant, appeared on her doorstep. Smiling sweetly, she said:
“Good afternoon.”
“Hello… I think you must have the wrong house?” Marianna replied.
“Oh, you’re so pretty—and young! You’re Marianna, right? Ivor told me his wife was older and unwell,” the girl prattled on. “You *are* Marianna, his wife?”
“Yes, that’s me. As you can see, I’m in perfect health—active and full of life. And you are…?”
“I’m Hannah. I’m carrying Ivor’s child. We’ve been together a while now. He keeps promising to tell you about me but never does. He tells me he’ll leave you, and then we’ll marry. Our baby’s due soon.”
Marianna stood frozen as Hannah rambled:
“I’ll admit, I was shocked to see you like this. I expected some old woman—Ivor’s nearly fifty. I mean, he’s still young-looking, but I thought his wife would be… well, ancient.”
“Hannah, how old *are* you? And where did you meet?” Marianna forced the words out.
“Twenty-one. We met online, like everyone does these days,” she said proudly.
“At twenty, how could you get involved with a man pushing fifty? Our *son* is twenty-five!” Marianna struggled to keep her voice steady.
“Don’t lecture me. I don’t care about morals. I need an older man with money—how else could I raise a child without a home or income? So just let Ivor go. He doesn’t love you anyway—he says you won’t give him a divorce. I came to fix that myself, since he clearly can’t.”
“Fine, Hannah. Take Ivor and go.” Marianna ushered her out before she could react.
Hannah, expecting a fight, just shrugged and said sweetly, “Goodbye.”
The moment the door closed, Marianna collapsed onto the sofa, weeping. After a long cry, she steeled herself for the conversation ahead.
It was brief and composed. By the time Ivor got home, she’d already made up her mind.
“Hello, darling. See that suitcase? It’s yours. Take it and leave.”
“Marianna, what’s gotten into you? Why are you throwing me out?” His eyes darted nervously.
“Nothing’s wrong. Your pregnant Hannah dropped by. She asked me to let you go and give you a divorce. So consider yourself free. I can’t stand the sight of you. You trampled my love, my kindness—you ruined everything.”
She opened the door, staring at his stunned face.
“Marianna, I… I never meant—I don’t want to leave!”
But she pushed him out, suitcase in hand, and locked the door behind him.
A month later, they met at a neutral café. Ivor haggled—he wanted to split the two-storey flat Marianna’s father had bought for her.
“The flat stays with me. You keep the business. I won’t interfere.”
“But I’m renting now, and there’s a baby coming. That flat’s huge—let’s split it,” he insisted.
“Have you forgotten we have a son? Here’s the deal: either you leave me the flat and keep the business—which, let’s be honest, wouldn’t exist without me and my father—or we split *everything* fifty-fifty, and you *still* don’t get the flat. Need me to call Dad to explain? Think it over. You’ve got three days.”
Marianna kept the flat. Her father stepped in, and Ivor backed down the moment he called.
“Fine. I won’t fight for the flat.”
Six months passed. Marianna adjusted to solitude, sometimes wondering if she’d been too hard on Ivor, talking to herself:
“What have I learned? Never love a man more than yourself. He won’t value your devotion, your care, your tenderness. The more I gave, the more he took for granted. He’ll never remember how I cherished him—how I’d watch him sleep, hold him close, smile into his eyes. How I straightened his collar. Well, it doesn’t matter now. From now on, I’ll love myself—and my family. My son, his wife, and especially my granddaughter.”
She packed for a visit to Oliver’s, bringing gifts for all, thrilled to see them. Occasionally, she reminded herself:
“I’m fine. Every day gets better. Life’s too short for bitterness. I’ve let it all go. I don’t even replay what-ifs. What’s done is done. In five years, this won’t matter.”
With her family, Marianna never felt alone. She loved them with all her heart, and they loved her back. Her granddaughter, still tiny, clung to her constantly. Oliver knew about the divorce but never brought it up. Once, he called his father—Hannah answered.
“Ivor’s in the shower. Can I take a message?”
Oliver hung up. The picture was clear. When he met his mother at the station, he could see she’d already moved on.
On the train back, Marianna caught a man glancing at her—a silver-haired stranger with a quiet melancholy. When she stepped off, he waited nearby before approaching.
“Pardon me,” he said in a warm baritone. “IThey exchanged smiles, and as she looked into his gentle grey eyes, Marianna felt a flicker of hope for the first time in years.
