A Christmas Farewell and a New Year’s Miracle
The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of roast beef and potatoes, candlelight flickering warmly across the table while Margaret adjusted the tablecloth, her heart fluttering as she waited for her husband. She had put extra care into tonight—New Year’s Eve was approaching, and she wanted it to be perfect. But Jonathan was late—two whole hours late. The food had gone cold, and so had a little piece of her heart. Yet when he finally pushed open the door, she rushed to meet him, relief washing over her—her beloved was home.
They sat down in silence. Margaret smiled hopefully, while Jonathan poked at his plate with a fork, his expression blank. Suddenly, he set the fork down, avoiding her gaze as he muttered:
“The meat’s tough again. Honestly… I’m leaving. There’s someone else. Has been for a while. I don’t love you, Marg. Maybe I never did. Don’t even know why we married.”
The words stung like slaps. Margaret sat frozen, a bite of that very roast still in her mouth. Seven years of marriage—gone in a single dinner.
“What about me, Jon?” she whispered. “What do I do now?”
“Live. You’re young, you’ll meet someone. No kids to tie us down. Helen—the woman I’m with now—she’s brilliant. Older than me, with a daughter who already calls me Dad. And she cooks better, by the way…”
He said it so casually, as if discussing holiday plans. The flat could stay hers—he wasn’t a complete villain. He’d take the car, though—it was his loan, after all. Fair’s fair. He even added:
“Happy New Year, Marg. Hope you find happiness.”
And with that, Jonathan left behind only the fading scent of his cologne—and silence.
Helen. The girl who called him Dad. God, it hurt.
Margaret sank into the armchair, staring blankly. On the armrest lay his favourite t-shirt, the one he always slept in. She pressed it to her face and wept—quietly, painfully, the kind of tears that fall not just for lost love, but for a life undone.
Morning brought resolve. The t-shirt went straight in the bin. She wiped her tears, stood, and whispered: “Enough. I won’t break.”
She skipped the office party—no mood for cheer. Colleagues pitied her, especially Susan from accounting, whom she’d foolishly confided in. Their sympathy was worse than the pain.
Her mother only sighed when she heard:
“Maybe he’ll come back? Forgive him, darling—stranger things have happened…”
“I don’t want him, Mum. He never loved me. And I… maybe I never knew what love was.”
“Come home for the holidays…”
“No. I need to be alone. To adjust.”
On December 31st, Margaret bought mince pies, salads, champagne, and a jar of caviar. She strung fairy lights across the window, as she did every year. Then she remembered an old childhood tradition—writing a wish on a slip of paper.
“I want to meet my soulmate and be happy,” she scribbled, folding the note and tucking it beneath her pillow.
Her spirits lifted slightly. As Big Ben chimed midnight, she stepped onto the balcony and, gazing at the sky, murmured wryly:
“Well then, where are you, my soulmate? Don’t judge me for the roast, and don’t run off to Helen. Just… come.”
“Any preference in music?” A man’s voice drifted up from below.
“Who—? What?” Margaret stammered.
“William. From downstairs. Couldn’t help overhearing. Apologies…”
“I like classical. And opera.”
“Splendid. I don’t spend evenings glued to my screen, and I’ve no Helen in my life. Just divorced, actually. Bit lonely myself.”
“William… Lovely to meet you. Fancy coming up? We could listen to some music.”
“Be right there! Just grabbing a jar of marmalade and a bottle of bubbly!”
They welcomed the New Year together—dancing, talking, laughing, eating mince pies. Margaret couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so freely. It was a magical night.
Then came dates—ice skating, cafés, long conversations. William was unpretentious, genuine. She fell for him more each day.
By the time the divorce papers came, Margaret wore white and a smile. Jonathan looked stunned:
“You… you’re happy?”
“Yes. And thank you. For the freedom. I think I’ve finally found my soulmate.”
She walked away without a glance back—truly happy for the first time.
Sometimes, to start living, all you need is to greet the New Year with an open heart.
