“Just look at what you’ve become!” James scoffed, glaring at his wife. “More like a dumpling than a woman!” He felt weary of her, desperate to escape their shared home.
“Darling, I’ve just given birth to our son. Give me time—I’ll lose the weight,” Emma pleaded, fighting back tears.
“All my mates’ wives had kids and snapped back ages ago. None of them ballooned up like you, even during pregnancy!”
Inside, James despised her. This wasn’t the woman he’d imagined—someone lively, confident, always put together, even at home. Instead, he saw a frumpy mess in a bathrobe, forever apologising with her eyes.
Now, Sophie—she was different. Bold, stunning, self-assured. Always waiting for him, burning with passion. And, like all mistresses, dreaming he’d leave Emma.
His fingers brushed against the phone in his pocket.
“Going for a walk. Might grab some bread,” he lied.
Outside, he dialled Sophie at once.
“Hey, Kitten. Missed you like mad. Can’t stand being home. Coming over?”
“Hello, you! I’m waiting,” she purred.
James returned with the bread, grimaced at the baby’s cries, and claimed work had called him in for an emergency cover. His shift work made the lie easy.
Emma nodded weakly. When she leaned in for a kiss, he dodged it, pretending not to notice.
The baby slept. Alone in the quiet, Emma dwelled on James’ words.
Yes, she’d changed since the wedding—stopped caring, gained weight. The baby consumed her time, leaving her nibbling meals at odd hours, even midnight.
The clock read 11 p.m.
She tried calling him, but his phone was off. After feeding the baby, she went to bed.
At dawn, James marched in and announced he was leaving. He’d fallen for another woman, never loved her. But he’d fight for custody and pay child support.
Emma’s heart shattered, but she held herself together—no begging, no tears.
A year passed.
The toddler started nursery. Emma got a job, joined a gym, swam regularly. The weight began to drop. Not perfectly slim, but healthier.
At work, her colleague, Thomas, always lent a hand. One day, he invited her to the cinema, then for walks. They started dating seriously, married within six months. Thomas adored her smile, her eyes, her warmth. Her size never bothered him.
He embraced her son as his own, and soon, the boy called him “Dad.”
One day, an old neighbour spotted her.
“Emma, guess who I saw? James! Married that mistress of his. She’s just had a baby—piled on the pounds. Now he’s always ‘working late.’”
Emma shrugged. She rarely saw her ex. His measly payments hardly counted, and he barely knew his son. But none of it mattered.
She was happy now—with Thomas, who’d turned out to be the husband and father she’d always deserved.