Emily stood firmly on solid ground.
“Good luck with your exams, love,” she said anxiously, seeing off her only son, Oliver, as he left for university that morning.
He was heading to a nearby town for his entrance exams. She had encouraged him, fed him breakfast, and sent him off to conquer new challenges.
“Thanks, Mum. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Doubt I’ll get a funded place, though…” The door clicked shut behind him. Her husband, James, had already left for work.
Emily and James had been married for twenty-two years. In that time, they’d raised Oliver into a fine young man, certain he was destined for great things. He’d grown up comfortably, travelled with them, and been surrounded by love and care. Oliver had never been trouble—quiet, responsible, always thoughtful.
When Oliver was little, Emily and James had worked tirelessly, leaving him with his grandmother while they built their small business. Emily had sold goods at the market, but eventually, things stabilised, and they had money to spare.
“Emily, enough of the market. Stay home, take care of the house,” James had said one day.
“But I want us to want for nothing. I should help you,” she had protested. “Besides, sitting at home is dull.”
“You’ve always known my views—the wife keeps the home, the husband provides,” James had replied firmly.
Emily had been raised to believe a woman’s duty was to uphold the family, so she agreed. What else could she say? Their life was secure, their business thriving.
“Our new mortgage needs tending, our son needs care. Oliver starts school soon,” James had reasoned.
“Alright, James. I don’t mind. It’s time to make our nest cosy. You always speak sense,” she had smiled.
Deep down, Emily missed making decisions, being active—they’d built the business together. But she accepted her role, managing their accounts quietly, justifying her economics degree.
“Emily, let’s buy a cottage in the countryside,” James had suggested later. “We’ve got the car—easy to get there. Escape the city, especially in summer.”
“James, you’re making my dreams come true! I was going to suggest the same,” she had agreed. Despite his busy schedule, they spent weekends and holidays there.
That morning, after Oliver left, Emily decided to bake a cake to calm her nerves. As she reached for flour, the front door slammed.
“Oliver? Did you forget something?” James had left for work hours ago.
But it was James.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at work?” she asked, startled.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at your mum’s? I thought she was ill,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“I’m going after lunch. I saw Oliver off. Just baking—I’m nervous for him.”
James hesitated, then spoke.
“Maybe it’s for the best. I’m leaving you. I’ve fallen for someone else. I’ll file for divorce. I’ve come for my things.”
Her world collapsed. Words tumbled out, confused, weak. James packed his suitcase. The air felt thin, suffocating.
“What about Oliver? He can’t handle this now—not during exams. Please, wait.”
“What about him? He shouldn’t go to uni this year. He won’t get funding, and I won’t pay. He can work or join the army,” James said coldly, as if it were settled.
“James, he’s your son! Support him.”
“Don’t fuss, Emily. It’s done.” And he left.
Silence rang in the flat. One thought burned in her mind:
“Oliver mustn’t know yet. Not until his exams are over. I’ll say his dad’s on a business trip.”
Her thoughts spiralled. Later, she learned James had transferred half their flat—their shared home—to his mother two months prior. They’d both stayed silent.
“So naive. I trusted him, and he betrayed me.”
Oliver returned after his exams. As expected, he’d secured a place—but self-funded. He sensed something wrong immediately.
“Oliver… your father left us. He won’t pay for your studies.”
Oliver called James, who confirmed it. He sat quietly, then spoke.
“Mum, don’t worry. We’ll manage. Forget him. I’ll switch to part-time and get a job. We’ll be fine.”
She marvelled at his calm resolve, envying it.
“He’ll cry tonight, but tomorrow’s a new day.”
The next day, Oliver sorted his part-time studies and found work as a courier. Emily hunted for jobs but lacked experience. She took a position at a local flower shop.
“After the divorce, James will pay his share. The business was ours,” she reasoned.
James returned a few times for belongings, taking an antique dresser and side table. But Emily changed the locks.
A year passed. James paid her. Emily stayed at the shop—until the owner fell ill with cancer and decided to sell.
“Emily, I can’t keep working. My son doesn’t want the shop. Why don’t you buy it? You’ve worked here a year—you know it well.”
Oliver encouraged her, so she did.
Three years after James left, Emily had adjusted, though her heart had been scorched. That spring, she felt light, as if the air carried change. For the first time, life didn’t seem grey.
Her business thrived. That day, with her assistant off, she worked alone—arranging bouquets, watering plants. At noon, a man in his fifties entered.
“My daughter’s birthday. Could you help me choose a bouquet? My wife passed young—I’m out of my depth.”
Emily selected flowers. He paid, met her gaze warmly, and left.
“Such a kind man. So gentle.”
That evening, as she locked up, he approached with roses.
“Forgive me—I wanted to give you these. I’ve forgotten how to be gallant.”
She laughed, accepting them.
“Thank you! How did you know I love roses?”
“Because you work in a flower shop.”
“May I walk you home?”
She pointed to her nearby flat.
“Then let’s stroll. I’m George—I saw your name tag. I’m a cardiologist, so I’ll monitor your heart,” he joked.
They laughed. Talking easily, she felt she’d known him forever. His warmth melted her distrust.
For years, she’d walked through quicksand. Now, at last, her feet touched solid ground.
They married quietly four months later. She moved to his countryside home near a lake and woods. Their children and grandchildren visited often. Oliver married, expecting his first child.
Emily thanked God daily—for helping her through betrayal and gifting her new love.
