For three hours, Emily and Daniel had been arguing. Daniel was leaning towards divorce—after all, he had a reason. Though they’d married eleven years ago, they had no children. Now, divorce felt closer than ever. Daniel knew nothing could fix it.
Emily desperately wanted a child, but it never happened. Each time, she’d unclench her fist slowly, staring at the tiny window on the white pregnancy test with hope bordering on despair.
The doctor had told her, “You must believe till the end.” But she’d stopped believing.
After seven years of marriage, Emily and Daniel fought constantly. Even the smallest spark could ignite a row. In the end, they’d hurl all their pent-up hurt at each other, then fall silent for days.
The divorce was inevitable.
Lately, they barely spoke, avoided each other’s eyes, and moved quietly around the flat. That’s when Emily decided to cheat.
“I’m so sick of this, Hannah,” she complained to her friend. “I can’t stand looking at him anymore. He’s like a ghost—just sits there with his laptop. What kind of life is this?”
“Em, if I were you, I’d quietly find someone else. Maybe you’d even get pregnant,” Hannah suggested.
“Does that really happen?” Emily asked, surprised.
“Who knows? Maybe,” Hannah shrugged. She had no worries—she had her daughter, though she’d already divorced.
Emily stayed quiet, but the idea gnawed at her.
“Why not? It’s just constant fights with Dan now. If I brought up divorce, he’d probably agree straight away.”
“Listen, love, we’re going to the pub tonight. I’m meeting Jake, and he’s bringing a mate. Perfect chance for you to meet someone. Time to brighten up that dull life of yours.”
Those “bright colours” turned out to be an affair with Anthony. Emily thought she’d never cheat, angry as she was with Daniel—but it happened effortlessly. Before she knew it, life felt lighter, brighter.
She came home late, and one day, Daniel snapped.
“Emily, I’m leaving. Let’s end this quietly, like adults. We’ve got nothing to split—no kids, the flat’s yours.” His voice was firm. She could tell he’d made up his mind long ago.
Truth was, Daniel had been good for her financially—he earned well. Anthony, on the other hand, relied on her, always promising big money “any day now.” He was charming, smooth-talking, especially with women who fell for his pretty-boy looks.
“Wait, Dan, let’s talk—” she protested, suddenly reluctant.
“No, Emily. I won’t forgive cheating.”
“Cheating? What makes you think I cheated?” She was sure he was clueless—just buried in his coding, always working.
She didn’t know his mate Chris had spotted her in the pub with another man—more than once—acting far too familiar. And coming home late didn’t help.
“Em, don’t play dumb. I know everything. So I’m leaving. Have fun—Hannah will keep you entertained.” She stared, stunned. How did he know?
“That’s it. I’m gone.” He grabbed his suitcase and bag, packed the night before when she was out late, and left the keys on the sideboard.
He threw his things in the boot and sped off.
**Off to the Countryside**
“Didn’t work out. Happens. I’ll survive—I’m sick of it all anyway,” Daniel thought, watching the road ahead. “I’ll fix up the cottage. Funny—I nearly sold it, but something told me to keep it. Mum and Dad’s place… they went too soon.”
He’d tidy the house, go fishing, maybe even keep chickens. At thirty-three, he was young, free, and ready for a fresh start. Working remotely meant no job worries.
The drive to the village took two hours. Hunger hit, so he turned off the main road, pulling up by a small shop.
Outside, two cats watched him intently.
“Hungry, eh?”
Inside, he grabbed a pasty, some sausages, and juice. At the steps, he broke the sausages for the cats—but a tiny grey-striped kitten sat apart, unmoving.
“Scared?” Daniel crouched. Then he saw why—someone had tied its hind legs with fishing line.
“Bloody hell.” He freed the kitten, carried it to the car, and fed it bits of pasty. It curled up asleep on the passenger seat.
“Well, Whiskers, looks like it’s you and me now.”
He drove on, glancing at the little ball of fur. In his heart, he knew Whiskers would bring him luck.
At the cottage, he set his bags down and let the kitten inside first.
“Go on, Whiskers. You’re the boss here now.”
**A Year Later**
Whiskers had grown into a handsome cat, shadowing Daniel everywhere. The cottage garden thrived—chickens pecked, potatoes and carrots grew neat in rows.
That winter, Daniel skied through the woods when a flash of green caught his eye—a woman in a bobble hat.
They met on the path, grinning.
“Sarah? Bloody hell, is that you?”
“Daniel! Knew it was you straight away!”
She’d returned to care for her ill mother, working remotely like him. They reminisced over tea that evening, flipping through old school photos. Whiskers blinked sleepily at their laughter.
“You should have a painting here,” Sarah said, pointing above the sofa. “I’ll do one for you.”
Daniel walked her home. From then on, they skied together, shopped in town, bought chicken feed and her mum’s medicine.
When Sarah’s mother passed four months later, Daniel handled the funeral.
“You’ll get used to it,” he told her. “I talk to mine sometimes. We can’t bring them back.”
She stayed.
“Marry me,” he said one day. “Before I lose you again.”
She smiled. “Not yet… but yes.”
**Now**
Daniel kept bees now, selling honey and mead from a little tea-house they built. Business boomed—people came from miles for their produce.
Whiskers strutted like a king, though three-year-old Oliver pestered him endlessly.
And sometimes, Daniel and Sarah talked about trying for a daughter.
