**Holiday for Happiness**
We spend all year dreaming of a holiday, preparing, hoping to return happy. But often, the opposite happens…
Back in May, Daniel and Emily started planning their getaway. Debating destinations, choosing hotels. Emily wanted the sandy beaches of Cornwall—shallow waters stretching nearly a mile, warm as a bath. Perfect for little Alfie.
“You actually want to bring the kid?” Daniel asked flatly.
“You say that like he’s only mine. Yes, I do. What’s the problem? People travel with babies all the time.”
“If there’s no one to leave him with. But we have your mum. Ask her to look after him—trust me, she won’t say no. Do you really want to drag sleepless nights, nappies, and tantrums along? What kind of holiday would that be?”
Emily agreed, reluctantly. But the thought of leaving Alfie for ten whole days squeezed her heart.
Her mother sided with Daniel.
“Go alone, love. Have a proper break. He’s too little—you’ll just exhaust yourselves, and he won’t even remember it.”
“Look at this hotel I found. And the view? You can see the sea from the top floors.” Daniel turned the laptop toward her.
“What does the view matter? You’re going to the beach, not staring at it through a window,” Emily countered. “The shores are pebbly—no lounging.”
“That’s what sunbeds are for. At least we won’t drag sand back to the room.”
Daniel always had the right argument. Emily always gave in—because she loved him madly. Did it matter where they went, what the beach was like, as long as it was with him? In two and a half years of marriage, nothing had changed.
“I think flying’s best. Costlier, but faster,” Daniel said.
Emily’s mind swirled with Alfie—small but sharp. He’d notice she was gone. He’d cry. Could her mum handle it?
“So, should I book the hotel?” Daniel snapped her back.
“Yes, go ahead.”
They saw everything differently, even family. Daniel had lost his parents young, raised by grandparents. His grandfather passed as he finished school; his grandmother followed two years later.
When they met, Daniel was already living alone. Emily moved in almost instantly. They renovated together, built their little nest. Everyone envied Emily.
“Lucky you, Em. Gorgeous fiancé, flat of his own, no nagging mother-in-law. Don’t get too smug, or someone’ll snatch him,” her best friend teased.
“Like you would?” Emily laughed.
“Why not? I’m fit too.”
The first disappointment came a month after the wedding, just before Emily’s birthday, when Daniel flatly told her not to invite her mum.
“Friends are coming—she’ll be bored with us.”
“It’s her day too. She gave birth to me, raised me. How do I tell her that?” Emily bristled.
“Invite her the next day. Tea and cake, just us.”
Emily hated the idea but didn’t argue. Love meant compromise. Her mother never showed any hurt. Came the next day, gave them a beautiful tea set. Daniel fawned over it, kissed her cheek, thanked her for raising Emily. Crisis averted.
And so it went—every celebration filled with Daniel’s mates. Many still lived with parents or in rentals. Her mother was never invited.
“If you love someone, you accept them. He grew up without parents—he doesn’t get family,” her mother said. “Don’t fight over me. A birthday’s just a day. A wife must be patient. Start arguing now, it’ll only get worse. You’ve got Alfie—he needs his dad. And raising a child alone is hard, believe me.”
Emily left Alfie with her mum, dashed through shops. Post-baby weight clung stubbornly; dresses pinched, swimsuits refused to flatter. One afternoon, she twirled in a pale sundress before the mirror.
“Like it? Once I tan, it’ll be perfect.” She turned to Daniel.
“It’s alright. You look washed out. Makes you look heavier,” he said, barely glancing up.
Ice shot through her veins. She faced the mirror again, scrutinising. Pre-wedding, she’d been slim, toned, bright. Breastfeeding softened her curves.
“You used to like my bigger chest,” she muttered.
The dress went into the wardrobe.
“Don’t be mad. The colour just isn’t you,” Daniel tried.
The holiday loomed. Emily packed slowly, savouring Alfie’s warmth, clinging to him. Regret gnawed—why had she agreed to leave him? They could’ve waited a year. Alfie deserved the sea too—to splash, to run on hot sand, to grow stronger. Next time, they’d all go. Daniel would teach him to swim. Unless…
Emily shook the thought away. Where had that come from? They’d never even had a proper fight. They loved each other. “No *ifs*,” she ordered herself.
She ate less, checked the mirror daily. Even if she slimmed down, would she ever be the girl Daniel fell for?
They dropped Alfie at her mother’s en route to the airport. Daniel fidgeted as Emily smothered the boy in kisses.
“Enough. You’re acting like you’re leaving forever.” Her mum took Alfie. “He’s getting upset—can feel it. Go now, before he starts wailing.”
Daniel beamed like a child. On the plane, he joked with flight attendants. Emily had noticed before—any pretty woman nearby, and Daniel turned on the charm. Married barely any time, and already looking elsewhere. What next?
“Em, want juice? Em!” Daniel nudged her.
“No thanks.”
“Stop moping. Alfie’s fine with your mum. We’ll bring him seashells…”
Emily forced a smile, pushed the gloom aside.
The hotel room was small but cosy, even had air-con. The sea glittered just beyond.
“Freedom!” Daniel whooped, spun Emily around, then flopped onto the bed. “Fancy the beach?” He sprang up.
“Yeah, just let me change…”
The beach swarmed with bronzed bodies. Emily hesitated, shy of her pale skin.
“Just strip. You’ll tan faster.” Daniel shucked off his jeans—legs fish-belly white, but he didn’t care (or pretended not to). Emily undressed. Thank God for the high-waisted swimsuit, hiding her soft stomach. She envied the long-limbed girls with flawless figures.
The sea was warm, soothing. Kids splashed in rubber sandals. *Alfie would struggle here…* Emily thought.
She burned fast. Daniel loitered reluctantly. Guilt gnawed at her. At lunch, his eyes trailed every passing girl. That night, he reached for her.
“Careful—it hurts,” Emily whispered. Sunburn throbbed under his touch.
Daniel rolled away, stared at the ceiling.
“It’s not my fault—”
He turned sharply to the wall.
“Up, sleepyhead. We’ll lose the sunbeds again.” Daniel’s whisper tickled her ear.
Yesterday’s tension seemed forgotten. Her skin screamed for shade, but Emily didn’t dare say so. She covered up—long skirt, light blouse—but the sun stabbed through. At the beach, slathered in lotion, she still shivered, goosebumps rising.
“Dan, let’s go back. I’m blistering.”
“We came here to sit indoors? Shouldn’t have baked yesterday,” he snapped.
“I wanted to tan faster. I’ll go. Stay if you want.” She hoped he’d follow.
Daniel’s gaze drifted past her. Two girls in skimpy bikinis and floppy hats laughed nearby.
“I’m going.” She waited. He didn’t move. She stumbled over pebbles, walking away.
Daniel returned hours later, cheerful.
“Starving. Quick shower, then dinner?”
Emily brightened, dressed carefully. Fabric grazed her burns.
At the restaurant, the bikini girls appeared again. Daniel’s glances were relentless.
“They’re pretty,” Emily said.
“What?”
“The girls. I need a hat too—my nose is scorched.”
She imagined the scene: husband ogling strangers while she sat ignored. Appetite vanished. She felt feverish.
“I’m leaving. Think I’ve got a temperature.”
Daniel caught her outside.
“What’s this drama?”
“You really don’t know?” Emily halted. “You’re making me feel like a fool. Yes, they’re slim. *For now*. After kids, they’ll look like me—or worse. You stared right in front of me.”
“Don’t make a scene in public,” he hissed.
Silence all the way back. In the room, Daniel flopped onto the bed, arms behind his head.
Emily cracked. Said she was jealous.
“You’re right. We should’ve stayed home,” he said, standing.
“Where areThe next morning, Emily packed her bags alone and left for the station without a word, her heart lighter than the sea breeze but heavier than the goodbye she never got to say.
