It was one of those mornings when the air itself felt heavy with change. Not good, not badjust different. Thats how it began, on a cold February Monday. I made my tea as usual, while Edward sat at the table, silent, tapping his fingers impatiently against the wood.
“Listen, Margaret,” he finally said, “Im leaving tomorrow.”
The spoon nearly slipped from my hand.
“Where?”
“Down to Brighton. Sun, sea, finally some proper relaxation. Tickets are already booked.”
I stirred my tea, numb. Wed saved for a year and a half for a holiday togetherskipped nights out, mended old coats, put every spare penny aside.
“What about me?” I asked. “My leave hasnt been approved yet.”
“And?” He shrugged. “You think Im not burnt out? I need a break from this dreary routine.”
“And my feelings dont matter?”
“The moneys half mine,” I snapped.
“So what?” He stood abruptly. “I earn my share. Ill spend it how I like!”
That was the first crack. Lately, hed become a strangeralways glued to his phone, even locking himself in the loo with it. That evening, I watched him pack. New swimming trunks Id never seen. A crisp linen shirtnothing like his usual rumpled style. When had he bought these?
“If theres money left, Ill bring you a souvenir,” he said, zipping his suitcase.
A souvenir. How generous.
The door slammed. Alone, I tried to reason with myselfperhaps he truly needed this. Then his phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up: *”Darling, at the airport. Waiting for you…”*
*Darling.* He hadnt called me that in years. Said it was childish.
Ten minutes later, he returned, eyeing me warily.
“What are you doing?”
“Living here,” I said. “Problem?”
He snatched the phone, checked if Id touched it, then kissed my forehead like a patronising parent.
“Dont sulk. Ill bring you something nice.”
And he was gone.
I sat there, heart pounding. Who was this *darling*? Why was he so jumpy?
Then something snapped in me. I threw on my coat, hailed a taxiexpensive, but I didnt care. I needed the truth.
And there they were. Laughing, embracinga girl in her twenties, all long hair and golden skin, wearing *that* linen shirt from our wardrobe. Edward whispered in her ear; she clung to him, giggling.
A year and a half of saving. All that time, hed been planning this.
I wanted to scream, slap him, make a scene. But they were already boarding. Too late.
Outside, I collapsed onto a bench, sobbing like my heart had been ripped out. Passersby stared. I didnt care. Snow began to fallsoft at first, then thick. I sat there, frozen, unable to move.
A voice cut through the haze.
“Miss you alright?”
I looked up. A man stood there, threadbare coat, face red from the cold.
“Need help?” he asked gently.
“Help?” I laughed bitterly. “Nothing can help me now.”
“Never that bad,” he said quietly. “Maybe a job? Even temporary?”
I studied him. Wed both lost something today. But at least he wasnt hiding it.
“You know what?” I decided. “Come home with me. Warm up. Have a proper meal.”
“Really?” He hesitated. “Im a stranger.”
“Are you dangerous?”
“No,” he smiled. “Just down on my luck.”
“Then lets go. Cupboards bare anywayEdward cleared it out.”
The taxi driver scowled, but I paid extra.
On the ride, he introduced himself as William. An engineer, laid off, then evicted. His wife left, saying, *”Come back when youre useful again.”*
I understood. Everyone carries their own grief.
At home, he hovered by the radiator, thawing his hands.
“Shower if you like,” I offered. “Towels in the cupboard. Edwards robes there too.”
“You sure?”
“Quite. Hes at the seaside with his mistress. Robes free.”
As he showered, I reheated soup. Was I mad? Letting a stranger in? But the day had tilted off its axis.
When he emerged, I barely recognised himmid-forties, sharp eyes, intelligent face. He looked absurd in Edwards robemy husband was short; William was tall.
“Certain youre not a vagrant?” I teased.
“Quite certain,” he grinned. “Just hit a rough patch.”
Over dinner, he explainedworked for a construction firm, projects dried up, younger hires preferred. Savings gone, wifes patience thinner.
“Love before hardship,” I muttered.
“Aye,” he agreed.
I told him everythingthe airport, *darling*, Edwards vanishing act.
“And now?” he asked.
“Divorce. Flats in my name. Ill manage.”
“Children?”
“Never happened,” I sighed. “He kept putting it off. Now I know why.”
“Bullet dodged,” William said softly.
That night, he dozed in the armchair. I woke at dawn to find him gone, a note on the table: *”Thank you. You saved me. If I find work, Ill repay you.”*
A strange emptiness settled in my chest.
The weeks blurred. Filed for divorce. Boxed Edwards things. Changed the locks.
Then, one evening, lugging groceries, I found Edward at the door, furious.
“Whats this?!” he spat. “Key doesnt work!”
“Changed the locks,” I said calmly.
“Lost your mind? This is my home too!”
“Was.” I handed him the papers. “Now its mine.”
“Divorce?!” He gaped. “Youre serious?”
“Deadly. Hows *darling*? Tan fading?”
His face twisted.
“Im in my prime! I need passion! What do you offer? Just dullness!”
“I offered a year and a half of savings,” I said. “You spent them.”
He raised a hand. I flinchedbut then a voice cut in.
“Margaret, alright?”
William stood there, smart in a suit, two colleagues beside him. Edward stumbled back.
“You?!”
“Me,” William smiled. “Found that job. Keeping my promise.”
I burst into tearsexhaustion, relief, everything. William guided me gently to his car.
“Come home with me,” he said. “Ill explain.”
Over tea, he told methat night, hed seen a job ad on the telly. A big architecture firm needed experience over youth. Hed gone straight there from my flat.
“Probation at first,” he said. “Now permanent. Good pay, benefits.”
“And your wife?”
“Says Im a stranger now,” he shrugged. “Found someone else months ago.”
“Love before hardship,” I murmured.
“Aye.”
A pause. Then
“Margaret maybe this is a sign. Maybe we ought to try something new.”
I considered it. With Edward, Id learned how *not* to love. With William, it felt differentsteady, real.
“What if it fails?” I asked.
“Cant be worse,” he said.
True enough.
Eight months on, the divorce is final. Edward didnt fight itseems *darling* was serious. Let him have her.
William hasnt moved in yetsays theres no rush. But he visits daily. Brings groceries, fixes leaky taps, sits with me in comfortable silence.
Ive learned love isnt just passion. Its trust. Respect. Someone valuing you not for youth or looks, but simply for *you*.
Last week, William proposed. No grand gesture, just
“Margaret, lets marry. Properly. No games.”
I said yes. Because with him, I can build something lasting. Not on sand, but solid ground.
Were planning a quiet weddingspringtime, close friends. No fuss. Lifes unpredictable enough.
Sometimes I wonderwhat if I hadnt gone to the airport that day? Mightve waited forever for Edward, grateful for fridge magnets. Instead, betrayal became a new beginning.
Lifes queer like that. The hardest days sometimes lead to the best things. Youve just got to brave the change.
