Finally.
When Emily got married, she had no idea her new husband, James, had a terrible habit. They hadn’t dated long—he’d proposed quickly, and when he did, he’d had a bit to drink.
“Em, let’s get married,” he’d said, his breath tinged with alcohol.
“James, are you drunk? You’re proposing like this?” She wasn’t too angry—after all, she wanted to be married. Nearly all her friends were.
“I’m just… celebrating. You won’t say no, will you?” He grinned. “Well? What’s your answer?”
“Fine, I’ll say yes. But only if you cut back—special occasions only.”
“Exactly what I meant! Special occasions. Like today—I just proposed!”
Young and naive, Emily didn’t dig deeper. She didn’t know James’s father had spent his whole life drinking. Maybe that’s where James picked it up—his dad would often invite him for “a quick pint.”
Margaret, James’s mother, would scold her husband when he poured their son a drink.
“You’ve spent your life drinking that rubbish, and now you’re dragging him into it?”
But her husband just laughed. “Leave it, woman. Let him get used to it—he’s a man.”
After the wedding, the couple moved into Emily’s one-bed flat, left to her by her grandmother. At first, things were fine. James worked, though he’d sometimes come home smelling of booze, always with an excuse.
“Tom bought a round—his son was just born. Couldn’t say no, could I?”
“Gary’s birthday—had to celebrate.”
“Helped Dave move timber to his cottage. He offered us a drink—too rude to refuse.”
Emily had a son, Oliver, but James kept drinking. He barely spent time at home, hardly even looked at the boy.
“Why won’t you spend time with him? He’s your own son,” Emily pleaded.
“You’re the one who told me not to breathe whiskey on him,” James shot back.
“Just stop drinking. How many times do we have to go through this?”
Eight years passed. James drank nearly every day. He lost one job, then another. His mother watched, heartbroken—she liked Emily, respected her, and Emily felt the same.
“All these years, she’s tried to help him, but he won’t quit. Just gets worse,” Margaret confided in her older sister.
“I know. I feel for Emily—such a good wife and mother,” her sister agreed.
Two more years. Oliver was in Year Three. Emily carried the family alone—James didn’t work, though his mother gave them money and bought things for the boy. James wasn’t the handsome man he once was—missing teeth from fights and falls, his hair thinning. Worst of all, he felt nothing—not for his wife, not for his son.
“Emily, divorce him. Kick him out. How can you stand this?” Her mother, coworkers, even the neighbours said it—they saw everything.
But Emily pitied him. She was soft-hearted, always bringing home strays—how could she abandon her husband? The only thing stopping her was Oliver. The boy saw his father’s behaviour, didn’t respect him. They barely spoke.
She told her mother-in-law.
“Margaret, I can’t do this anymore. I’m divorcing James.”
“Love, maybe if we get him help—”
“How many times did you try with your husband? Did it work?”
“I don’t want Oliver ending up like him. I’m throwing James out.”
“Where will he go? Straight to us.” Margaret sighed. “God knows what I’ll do then.”
Truth was, Emily had fallen for a coworker, Daniel. She kept it hidden—no one knew, not even Daniel.
He’d joined the office two months ago. Blue-eyed, fair-haired, with a warm smile—he’d caught her attention instantly. And not just hers. The single women at work buzzed when they learned he was divorced, newly moved from another city to stay with his father.
Daniel, though single at 34, treated every woman with respect—even those who outright asked him out. He’d just smile and politely decline.
“Can’t tonight, sorry—already busy.”
Some women, slighted, spread rumours, but Daniel stayed firm.
Emily filed for divorce and told James.
“James, it’s over. Get your things and go—two bags are by the door.”
He just stared, indifferent, then took the bags and left for his parents’.
“I know I meant nothing to him these last years,” she thought after he left. “Now I’ll live differently. Learn to trust men again. Maybe it’ll happen.”
And it did.
One evening, leaving work, Daniel called out to her.
“Emily, you heading home? Got a minute?”
“Yes, why?”
“Let’s grab dinner. Get to know each other. Didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of everyone.” He smiled warmly and gestured to his car.
They sat in a quiet café, just starting to fill.
“Emily, I heard you divorced,” Daniel said after ordering.
“Yes. My patience ran out. Tired of carrying everything alone.”
“Maybe this is bold, but the moment I saw you, I knew—you were meant for me.”
Her heart fluttered—he’d put words to what she’d felt too.
“Daniel, I had no idea—”
“I thought you might feel the same.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“To the right person.”
They started seeing each other. The office gossiped, of course.
“Well, look at quiet little Emily, snagging Daniel,” one woman scoffed. “How’d you manage that?”
Emily just smiled.
James didn’t bother her, but Margaret suffered. Visiting often to see Oliver and escape the chaos at home, she never blamed Emily—she understood.
One Saturday, Margaret arrived early. Emily had news—Daniel had proposed, given her a ring.
Smelling fresh tea as she entered, Margaret saw pastries on the table.
“Emily, love, how are you?”
“Oliver’s still in bed, glued to his phone. Sit—tea’s ready. I’ve got news.”
She took a breath.
“I’m marrying Daniel. My coworker.”
Margaret froze, then beamed.
“Finally! That’s wonderful!” She hugged Emily. “I’m so happy for you.”
Emily blinked. “You’re not upset?”
Margaret laughed. “Love, I’ve seen how James treated you. He didn’t deserve you. You’ve blossomed since Daniel came along. If you chose him, he must be good.”
Tears welled in Emily’s eyes—she’d expected judgment, not joy.
“I want you and Oliver happy,” Margaret said. “My son ruined years of your life. But you stayed kind.”
Relief washed over Emily.
“Margaret, I’d love your help planning the wedding if you’d like.”
“Of course! Let’s make it perfect!”
They talked dresses, flowers, venues—closer than ever. Emily realised she hadn’t just kept a mother-in-law, but gained a true friend.
And Margaret? She’d found the daughter she never had.
