The Heart Shattered by Hope: A Path to New Happiness
“Emily, it’s over between us,” William said coldly. “I want a real family, children. You can’t give me that. I’ve filed for divorce. You have three days to pack. Call me when you leave. I’ll stay at my mother’s until I get the flat ready for the baby and its mother. Oh, and don’t look so surprised—my new woman is pregnant. Three days, Emily!”
Emily stood silent, the ground swaying beneath her. What could she say? Five years they’d tried for a child, but three pregnancies ended in tragedy. The doctors swore she was healthy, yet each time, something went wrong. She’d lived cleanly, taken extra care when expecting. Last time, she collapsed at work—the ambulance arrived too late.
The door slammed behind William. Emily sank onto the sofa, too numb to move. Where could she go? Before marriage, she’d lived with her aunt, but she was gone now, the flat sold off by her cousin. Back to Willowbrook, to Granny’s old house? Rent somewhere? And work? The questions swarmed, but time had run out.
Morning came, and the door creaked open—her mother-in-law, Margaret, stepped in.
“Still awake? Good,” she said sharply. “I’m here to make sure you don’t take what isn’t yours.”
“I’ve no interest in your son’s old socks,” Emily snapped. “Shall we inventory my things too?”
“So spiteful now! You used to be such a meek little thing. I told William after the first time—you’d never bear children.”
“Is that why you’re here? Then keep quiet and watch.”
“Where d’you think you’re going with that tea set?” Margaret hissed.
“It’s mine. From my aunt. A keepsake.”
“The place will look bare without it!”
“Not my problem. At least you’ll have a grandson.”
“Take only what’s yours!”
“The laptop’s mine. The coffee maker, the microwave—gifts from colleagues. The car was mine before marriage. Your son has his own.”
“You’ve got everything—except the sense to give him a child!”
“That’s none of your concern. Perhaps it’s God’s will.”
“No regrets, then? Maybe you did it on purpose?”
“Don’t be absurd. Even thinking of it hurts.”
Emily scanned the flat—her things were gone. Hairbrush, makeup, slippers… Something was missing. Margaret’s glare muddled her thoughts. Then she remembered—the porcelain cat, Granny’s heirloom. Inside, a hidden compartment held earrings and a ring. Worthless to anyone else. Had William tossed it? She rushed to the balcony.
“What’s out there?” Margaret barked. “Hurry up and leave!”
The cat was there, untouched. Now she could go.
“Here are the keys. Goodbye. Let’s not meet again.”
She stopped by the office next—on sick leave, but she begged for holiday.
“We’re so sorry,” her boss said. “But we’re lost without you. Three weeks enough? Stay reachable—half the projects stall without you.”
“Fine. The distraction’ll help. Thanks.”
“Need anything?”
“No.”
“I’ll sort your holiday pay and bonus.”
“Actually—thank you.”
Emily didn’t hunt for a flat—she drove to Willowbrook. Granny’s house had stood empty since her death three years back. Emily never knew her mother—she’d died in childbirth. Now Emily couldn’t be one either…
An hour later, she arrived. The old oak, the overgrown daisies. Last autumn, she and William had barbecued here. She parked in the drive—the shed key was inside. Opening the door, she froze. Silence. Dirty cups and plates littered the table. She’d cleaned last time. Someone had been here.
Two mugs, empty juice cartons, bottles of William’s favourite sparkling wine. Not from autumn. So he’d returned. With whom?
“Doesn’t matter,” Emily muttered. New locks, a fresh start—scrub away the past. A knock. Then at the window.
“Who’s there?”
“Everything alright?” a voice called.
“Yes…?” she answered, baffled.
A stranger stood outside.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “Neighbor. Saw you bustling about earlier. Then the chimney smoke vanished—thought something was wrong.”
“All fine, thanks.”
“Related to William? He was here with a woman recently. Sister?”
“Ex-wife, nearly. Divorce pending.”
“And the house?”
“Mine.”
“Just staying at a mate’s. Divorced too. Free tomorrow if you need help. I’m James.”
“Emily. Wait—can you change a lock?”
“Sure. Say when.”
“Soon as possible. I’ll buy one tomorrow.”
“Let me check and fetch it—easy to pick wrong. I’m headed into town anyway.”
“Alright.”
Two weeks passed. A week of leave remained, but Emily dreaded the city. William stayed silent, sending only a divorce date. Just as well—she couldn’t face him.
Saturday, James invited her to walk by the river. She hadn’t planned new ties, but a stroll seemed harmless. They returned by noon—William’s car idled outside. He’d just arrived, helping a pregnant woman out.
Emily and James approached the gate. William fiddled with the lock, but it held firm.
“What’s this?” he spat.
“And what are *we* doing?” Emily called. “Breaking into someone’s home?”
William went pale.
“It’s *our* house!” the woman shrilled.
“Is it? Says who? William? This is *my* house. Leave.”
“Mike, what’s she on about? Who is she? Your ex? Get rid of her!”
Emily and James laughed. Wordless, William bundled the woman into the car and sped off.
“Life’s going to be fun for him,” James remarked.
“But she’ll give him a child. I couldn’t. Three times. Sorry.”
“My wife left *because* she didn’t want children…”
Four years later, Emily bumped into Margaret at the shops.
“Emily—I barely recognized you!” Margaret gasped. “You’re… pregnant?”
“Yes,” Emily smiled, resting a hand on her belly.
“And William… his boy’s sickly. Something in the blood. His wife left him—abandoned the child. You’re alone? Decided to have one anyway?”
“No, I’ve a family. Must go—they’re waiting.”
“Forgive me—”
“Good luck.”
Margaret watched as Emily walked away, James’s hand steady at her back. On her other side, their little girl clutched her fingers—the very image of her mother.
