That evening split Lucy’s life into “before and after.”
“You see, Luce, I’ve met someone else. We just click, y’know? Proper romance—not like us, once in a blue moon,” said James, sliding off his wedding ring like it meant nothing. He said it with a smirk, as if the problem had always been her. Lucy listened in silence. No begging, no tears, no holding on. She just let him go.
“We won’t split anything. The flat’s mine—bought it before we married. The car too. And the dog? Absolutely not. Even if he was during the marriage, he’s my comfort,” she said later.
“Couldn’t care less about the mutt. Keep him. But the flat and car? I’d want a cut.”
“If you’d ever paid for any of it,” Lucy cut in. “But since you didn’t—no hard feelings.”
James tried to argue but left empty-handed. She stayed—with Max the spaniel and a quiet desire for payback.
Lucy took the betrayal hard.
“Doubt I’ll ever trust anyone again,” she confided in her best mate, Emma.
“Honestly, don’t get how you just let him swan off like that. Should’ve taught him a lesson.”
“How?”
“String him along, then drop him.”
Lucy just shrugged.
“Revenge is best served cold. Wait—he’ll be back.”
“How d’you figure?”
“Seven years together, and this Jessica? Just some fling from his gym. Plus, she’s 15 years younger. He’ll realise his mistake soon enough.”
She was right.
Three months later, James reappeared.
“You home? Was passing by—need to pop in.”
“Why?”
“Left my favourite umbrella there. It’s autumn—need it.”
“Fine. Take it.”
She let him rummage through cupboards for forgotten bits, watching him squirm. He was clearly fishing for excuses to see her.
When he’d claimed every last stray sock, he found a new reason:
“Luce, I’m coming over. Wait up.”
“Forgot something else?” she asked, rubbing her hands—just like Emma predicted.
“Missed Max. Bet he misses me too.”
“Max? Miss *you*? Hardly. Think dogs—or women—wait around for traitors?”
“Still coming. Jessica’s locked me out—gone to some fitness retreat. Need a place till tomorrow.”
“Try a hotel.”
“But… can I at least pop round for dinner?”
“Fine,” Lucy relented.
James arrived, raving about her cooking. “Your roast potatoes? I’d sell my soul for ’em. Jessica’s food’s all… bland. Always on a diet. Asked for chips once—she lost it. Called me fat…”
Lucy laughed. Pathetic. Three months of “passion,” and James looked withered, like he’d aged a decade.
“Eat up. You need it,” she said, handing Max a chunk of beef. James eyed it—her dog ate better than he did now.
“Time to go,” Lucy said as he lounged by the telly, like old times.
“Let me relax! Been ages since I had a proper night in.”
“Got plans that don’t involve you, sorry.”
“Oh yeah?” He squinted. His faithful Lucy—seeing someone else? Unthinkable.
“Date tonight,” she said, watching his face drop.
“Who with?”
“None of your business. Clear out. We’ll need the sofa.”
James left, gutted. He’d hoped for nostalgia—her warmth, the works.
Packing up, he muttered, “You’re lying, Luce. No one’s coming.”
“Oh?”
“A real bloke’d have fixed that leak by now. No man leaves his woman’s place like this.”
“My men come for fun, not plumbing. Go fix Jessica’s taps. Though I doubt it’d help—that drip started *with you*.”
“Maybe, but I’ve got other skills.”
“Won’t hold a candle to my new bloke,” she said, slamming the door.
Peeking through the peephole, she grinned as he shuffled off.
He called days later. “Miss you. Seven years—habits die hard.”
At first, Lucy relished his whinging about Jessica, his dependence on her. But now? Just exhausting.
“How do I shake him off?” she asked Emma.
“Time to strike.”
“Honestly? Think he’s suffered enough. Miserable with her, but I don’t want him back—even to dump him.”
“Then ghost him. No calls, no visits.”
Lucy tried—but James turned persistent. Calls from unknown numbers. Flowers at work. Lurking outside.
“Jim, stop. I’ve moved on,” she said, stunned. Six months ago, she’d never have believed it.
Now, she walked Max across town to avoid him. The stalking was out of hand.
“Stay with me,” Emma offered.
“But the flat?”
“Rent it out. Know a colleague—needs a place for a month.”
“Invite her round this weekend.”
“Fair warning—she’s a perfectionist. Type to triple-check taps and reset microwaves to ‘clock mode’.”
They laughed, and Lucy finally called a plumber—risking losing a tenant over a dripping tap.
When the doorbell rang, she flinched, fearing James. But it was a stranger—Mike, the plumber. Young, handsome, golden hands. Fixed the tap in no time.
“Mind checking the bathroom sink? And this wobbly shelf…”
Two hours later, her flat was pristine.
“You’re a gem, Mike.”
As she paid him, the bell rang again. James, somehow sensing she was home.
“Your husband? Don’t worry—in uniform, he’ll think nothing of it,” Mike joked.
“I need him to think *everything*,” she admitted, blushing.
“Ah. Ex trouble?”
“Stalking me. No idea how to shake him.”
“Seen it all. Need extra help?” He winked, shrugging on his jacket.
Lucy let him out, ignoring James’s buzzing. But James spotted Mike leaving.
Next call: “Luce! Where’ve you been?”
“Busy living.”
“Doing what? Work and telly? Stop lying! I’m coming over—need the old curtains. Rented a flat nearby, empty. Thought of your spares…”
“Can’t. Got company. Feeding him dinner.”
“No way.”
“Let him come,” Mike said loudly.
James arrived to find Lucy laughing, Mike flour-dusted at the stove.
“Who’s this?” James sniffed.
“Mike. My fiancé. You must be the pest?” Mike rolled up sleeves, flexing.
“But… she’s… no one’d want…” James paled.
“Clearly you do. Buzz off, or next time…” Mike brandished a wrench.
“Curtains are packed. Last favour. Go,” Lucy said.
James slunk out.
Mike stayed. They made dumplings—potato and mushroom.
“Often rescue women from exes?” Lucy asked later.
“Yours was a first. Usually get… other requests.” He grinned.
“Married?”
“Nah.”
“Take leftovers—as thanks.”
“Rather come back for more. If that’s alright.”
“More than alright,” she said, smiling as Max wagged at his new mate.
“See you soon.”
As Mike left, Lucy felt warmth—first since the divorce.
Every ending’s a new beginning… Who knows?
