At long last.
When Emily said “I do,” she had no idea her new husband, James, carried a dark secret. They hadn’t dated long—he’d rushed the proposal, slurring his words after one too many pints.
“Em, marry me, yeah?” he’d breathed, the stench of alcohol sharp on his lips.
“James, are you drunk? This is how you propose?” She’d feigned annoyance, though she wanted this—most of her friends were already married.
“Just celebrating, love. So? What d’you say?”
“Fine, alright. But on one condition—no more drinking unless it’s a special occasion.”
“Course! Special occasions only. Like today—I just proposed, didn’t I?”
Young and naive, Emily hadn’t dug deeper. She didn’t know James’s father had spent his life drowning in whiskey, dragging his son down with him.
*”Let’s have a proper cuppa,”* his dad would say, sliding a glass toward James.
His mum, Margaret, would scold them. “You’re poisoning yourself, and now him too?” But his father just laughed.
“Shut it, woman. He’s a man. Let him learn.”
After the wedding, they settled into Emily’s tiny flat, left to her by her gran. At first, things were fine. James held a job, though he’d often come home reeking of beer.
“Mate’s kid was born—had to toast, didn’t I? God’s own rule,” he’d say. “Rob’s birthday, lads owed him one. Took some timber to old man Harris—he stood a round. Always a reason.”
Then came Oliver, their son. James barely glanced at him.
“Why don’t you hold him? He’s your own blood,” Emily pleaded.
“You said not to breathe on him stinking of ale,” he’d retort.
“Then *stop drinking*!”
Eight years passed. By then, James was drinking daily—sacked from one job, then another. His mother watched, heartbroken. Emily was a good wife, a brilliant mother. But James? He was hardly the man she’d married—missing teeth, thinning hair, his spirit long gone.
“Emily, *leave him*,” her mates urged. Even neighbours echoed it.
But Emily pitied him. Stray dogs, lost cats—she couldn’t turn away from suffering. Only Oliver kept her sane. The boy barely acknowledged his father.
Then she met Daniel.
New to the office, Daniel was everything James wasn’t—kind-eyed, warm, respectful. He turned down every woman who flirted, always polite.
*”Sorry, busy tonight.”*
Rumours swirled, but he stayed unshaken.
One evening, Emily filed for divorce.
“James, we’re done. Pack your things and go.”
He stared blankly, shrugged, and left for his parents’.
*He didn’t even care.*
Then, outside work one evening, Daniel called her name.
“Emily—got a minute?”
She turned, cheeks flushing.
“Fancy dinner? Proper chat, just us?”
The café was quiet. Over tea, Daniel smiled.
“Heard about the divorce.”
“Yeah. Tired of carrying dead weight.”
His next words stole her breath.
“From the moment I saw you, I knew. You’re *it* for me.”
They began dating, weathering office gossip.
*”Quiet Emily bagged Daniel? How?”*
James’s mother, Margaret, visited often—never resentful, just grateful to see Oliver. When Emily confessed her engagement, she braced for fury.
Instead, Margaret beamed.
*”At last! Wonderful news!”*
Emily faltered. “You’re… not angry?”
“Love, I *saw* what James became. You deserve this.”
Tears welled. Margaret squeezed her hand.
“Let’s plan the wedding—proper, yeah?”
From that day, they were more than in-laws. They were family.
