**Diary Entry**
*”If Mum doesnt live with us, Ill divorce you!” And he did*
A man who swears love and loyalty can become a stranger in an instantespecially when you’re forced to choose between keeping your family together or saving yourself from ruin. Ive lived through it.
When I married Oliver, we didnt have our own place. We lived with his parents in their cramped two-bedroom flattight, but manageable. Until one day, his stepfather came home and caught his mother, Margaret, with another man. Younger, bolder, full of empty promises. He whispered to her about new beginnings and “streets paved with gold,” but his condition was clear: *”Sell the flat. Well move to another city. Start fresh.”*
I tried to make Margaret see sense: *”Hell cheat you. Youll end up with nothing.”* But she only scoffed, *”Youre just jealous. Stay out of it.”*
A week later, we were on the street with our baby in my arms. The flat was sold, and we were thrown out. Oliver worked two jobs, while I took night shifts typing up essays between feedings. We barely scraped by on rent, but we fought for our future.
We dreamed of a mortgage, but fate gave us a break: my aunt passed away, childless, leaving me her flat in another town. Spacious, bright, with windows overlooking a quiet garden. We used our savings for repairs, and for the first time in years, I could breathe again.
But peace never lasts.
One evening, as I washed dishes after supper, someone knocked. There stood Margaretface swollen from crying, eyes like a beaten dogs. *”Love Oliver he threw me out. Everythings gone. Just this suitcase left. Please help me.”*
Oliver and I exchanged glances. I saw his face soften. He pulled her inside, sat her at the kitchen table, poured her tea. Meanwhile, I stood there, a dull ache throbbing in my chest. I had warned her, begged her not to be reckless. Yet she hadnt just ignored meshed tossed us out when we were still struggling.
Oliver turned to me: *”She cant manage alone. We cant abandon her. Shes my mum.”*
I pressed my lips tight. *”She threw us away like rubbish. And now you want her here? In this flat? Where weve barely started to live?”*
Margaret whimpered: *”Oliver, I cant sleep on the streets Please Ive learned my lesson.”*
Then came the words that shattered me: *”If you wont let Mum stayIll file for divorce.”*
The room spun. I answered calmly, though my heart bled: *”Then divorce it is. Because I wont live with someone who makes love conditional.”*
