**Diary Entry – A Tale of Heartbreak**
“Oliviaaa…” Emily wailed into the phone.
“What’s wrong? Just tell me properly! Is it James? Emily, why are you silent?” I shouted back, my patience thinning.
“Ughhh… Liam…!” she sobbed again, barely coherent.
“Has something happened to Liam? Was there an accident?” I pictured Emily shaking her head, as if I could somehow see her through the line.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m hanging up. I’ll be there in ten—just wait,” I snapped, listening to her muffled crying for another moment before cutting the call.
I threw on a jumper, grabbed my purse, and stormed out, locking the flat behind me. Emily lived just down the road, so I power-walked, breaking into a jog now and then, cursing her dramatic vagueness. “Always can’t just say what’s happened properly… If this is over nothing, I swear I’ll throttle her…”
Five minutes later, I jabbed at the buzzer outside her building. The intercom crackled.
“Em, open up—it’s me,” I barked. Another static-filled buzz, then the door clicked. I hurried inside, immediately engulfed in gloom after the daylight. No time to adjust—I stumbled toward the lift, nearly tripping on the dimly lit steps.
“Bloody hell, could at least fix the lights,” I muttered, pressing the button impatiently.
As the lift groaned its way down, I tapped my foot, running through worst-case scenarios. *Please just let everyone be safe…* Outside her flat, I paused. No crying. Good. I rang the bell.
Emily answered, face puffy, eyes red. She zombie-walked to the kitchen without a word. I sighed, kicked off my trainers, and followed.
Slumped at the table, she looked like a broken doll. “Em, what’s happened? You scared me half to death,” I said, resting a hand on her back. “Just talk. I flew here like a madwoman.”
“Liam left me,” she said flatly.
“For someone else?”
A stiff nod.
“How? Did he say it, or are you assuming?” I wasn’t surprised. Liam was handsome—always told her to keep an eye out.
“He packed his bags and said he’s in love with her,” she whispered. “Olivia, why? I cooked, cleaned, had his son, starved myself to stay slim—and he still left.”
I exhaled sharply. “Everyone’s alive, and you’re howling like it’s a funeral. He’ll have his fun and crawl back.”
“You think?” Her eyes flickered with hope.
“No idea. Who is she? Pretty? Young?”
“My age. Big, ginger, and cross-eyed,” she spat. “What does he even see in her? I’m *better*.”
“Stop blaming yourself. Midlife crisis, hormones—he’ll snap out of it.”
Emily shook her head, shoulders shaking.
“Pull yourself together. If he walks in now and sees you like this, he’ll bolt faster.” That just made her wail harder.
“Tears won’t fix it. You think he’ll come back and everything’ll be fine? Dream on. You’ll resent him, pick fights—*Where were you? Who were you with?*—until you both crack. Where’s Noah?”
“At the neighbour’s.”
“Good. He shouldn’t see this.”
I rifled through her fridge. “Got any wine?” Half a bottle of white. I sloshed it into glasses. “Drink. All of it.”
She obeyed mechanically.
“We were supposed to move,” she mumbled. “His company built those new flats—discount for employees. Now *he’ll* live there. Me and Noah… stuck here.”
“Stop crying. You’ll get wrinkles.”
“I feel sick… like I could die,” she swayed on the stool.
“Don’t be daft. If you off yourself, Liam will *flaunt* it. *Oh, look how tragic—my wife couldn’t live without me.* And his mistress? She’d *brag*. Meanwhile, you’re rotting underground, and Noah’s left with *her* or in foster care. *That* what you want?”
She blinked. “I’m not… doing *that*,” she muttered.
“Thank God. More?” I split the last drops.
“Don’t leave. Stay tonight.”
“Fine.”
Morning came too bright. Noah shook us awake. “Mum, I’m thirsty.”
Emily bolted up, grabbing her head. “We overslept! Olivia, *move*!”
At work, I kept an eye on her. Any pause, any stare—I’d distract her.
“Coming to mine later?” I asked when we clocked out.
“No. I’ll manage.”
***
In public, Emily toughened up. After nursery, Noah walked silently beside her, studying her face. He *knew*.
Days passed. Liam didn’t call.
Finally, she cracked and dialed. “Can you come over? We need to talk… Noah misses you.”
He arrived. She flitted around the kitchen—*What to serve?*—until the doorbell chimed. Her heart leapt.
“Dad!” Noah sprinted ahead.
Liam bent to hug him, then met Emily’s gaze. The familiarity stung.
“Dinner?” she offered.
“What did you want to discuss?” he asked, detached.
She sat, hands clasped. “I can’t do this alone. Noah needs you. I’d *never* hold last night against you—just come home.”
Liam sighed. “Emily, we’ve been over this. Sarah’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant? What about *Noah*?” Her voice cracked.
“He’s *mine*. I’ll still see him—unless you block it. Then I’ll sue.”
“You’re *not* his father—you’re a *monster*!” she shrieked. “I hope that baby’s *cursed*!”
Liam stood to leave. She lunged, clawing his arm. “Don’t go! *Please*!”
He shoved her off—too hard. She fell, hitting her head on the table’s edge.
The ambulance came. Noah, having seen it all, bolted.
They found him four hours later, shivering on a park bench.
Liam stayed that night. By morning, Emily sent him away.
The divorce came. Liam married Sarah. Their daughter was born healthy.
He visits Noah—brings cheap toys. Noah takes them, but never clings like before.
Emily stopped begging. She’s prettier now. Wiser.
The family’s gone. The love’s dead.
Who’s to blame? An old question—as endless as love, as betrayal.
