**Diary Entry**
At last.
When Emily got married, she had no idea her new husband, Daniel, had a drinking problem. They hadn’t dated long—he’d proposed quickly, and when he did, he was a bit tipsy.
“Em, let’s get married,” he said, his breath smelling of whisky.
“Dan, have you been drinking? And you’re proposing like this?” She wasn’t too upset—she wanted to be married. Most of her friends already were.
“I’m just… celebrating. Say yes, won’t you?” he grinned. “So, what’s your answer?”
“Fine, I will, but only if you cut back—special occasions only.”
“Well, today’s an occasion—I just proposed!”
Young and naive, Emily didn’t overthink it. She didn’t know Daniel’s father had been a drunk his whole life. Maybe that’s where Dan got it—sometimes his dad would casually offer him “a quick pint.”
Margaret, Dan’s mother, hated it.
“You spend your life drinking that rubbish, and now you’re dragging our son into it?” But her husband just laughed.
“Quiet, woman. He’s a man—he needs to learn.”
After the wedding, they moved into Emily’s one-bed flat, left to her by her gran. At first, things were fine. Dan worked, though sometimes he came home smelling of booze—but he always had an excuse.
“Rob bought a round—his son was born. Couldn’t say no, could I?” he’d say. Or, “Dave’s birthday, had to celebrate,” or, “Helped Greg shift timber to his garden—he owed us a drink.” There were always reasons, all supposedly unmissable.
Emily had a son, Oliver, but Dan kept drinking. He avoided coming home, barely glanced at the boy.
“Why don’t you spend time with him? He’s your son,” Emily pleaded.
“You told me not to breathe on him after a drink,” he’d retort.
“Then stop drinking! How many times do I have to say it?”
Eight years passed. Dan drank daily now. Lost one job, then another. His mother was heartbroken. She admired Emily, saw how hard she fought for him.
“Emily’s tried for years, but he won’t quit. It only gets worse,” Margaret confided in her sister.
“Poor girl,” her sister sighed. “A good wife, a good mother—and this is what she gets.”
Two more years. Oliver was in Year 4. Emily carried the family alone—Dan didn’t work, though his mother helped with money and clothes. He’d lost his looks: missing teeth from brawls and falls, thinning hair. Worse, he felt nothing—not for Emily, not for his son.
“Leave him,” her mum urged. “Kick him out—how can you stand this?” Colleagues, neighbours—everyone said the same.
But Emily pitied him. She was soft-hearted—always rescuing stray cats, let alone her husband. Still, she worried for Oliver. The boy saw his father’s shame, felt no respect. So, finally, she decided to leave.
She told Margaret first.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m divorcing Daniel.”
“Emily, love… what if we get him help?” Margaret pleaded.
“How many times did you try that with your husband? Did it ever work?” Emily shook her head. “Oliver can’t grow up thinking this is normal. Dan needs to go.”
“And where will he go? Straight back to me.” Margaret sighed. “Lord, what a mess.”
Truth was, Emily had fallen for a colleague, James. She’d kept it buried. No one knew—least of all James himself.
He’d joined the office two months prior. From the first glance, her heart raced—tall, blue-eyed, with a warm smile. The single women swooned when they found out he was divorced, moved from Manchester to live with his dad.
James was polite to everyone, even when flirted with. He’d just smile and say, “Sorry, busy tonight.” Some women gossiped, but he stayed kind and distant.
Emily filed for divorce.
“Dan, it’s over. Take your things and go.”
He stared blankly, unfazed. Took his bags and left for his parents’.
“I meant nothing to him,” she thought after he’d gone. “But now I’ll learn to trust again. Maybe even be loved.”
And she was.
One evening, as she left work, James called her over.
“Emily, got a minute?”
“Of course. What is it?” Her cheeks warmed.
“Fancy dinner? I’d like to talk—properly, not in the office.” He smiled. “My car’s just there.”
She agreed. The café was quiet.
“Emily… I heard about the divorce,” he said once they’d ordered.
“Yes. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Then I’ll be honest—the day I saw you, I knew you were meant for me.”
Her heart raced. He’d put words to her own feelings.
“James, I never thought—”
“I’d hoped you felt the same.” He grinned as she blushed.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to the right person.”
They began dating. Of course, colleagues noticed—especially Lily, the office gossip.
“Quiet little Emily nabbed James? How’d you manage that?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said simply.
Dan didn’t bother her—his mother bore the brunt. She often visited Emily, just to see Oliver and escape the chaos at home. Though Emily had thrown her son out, Margaret held no grudge.
Then, one Saturday, Margaret arrived to find Emily nervous.
“I’ve got news… I’m engaged. To James.”
Margaret froze—then beamed.
“At last! Oh, Emily, I’m so happy for you!”
Emily was stunned. She’d expected disapproval.
“But… aren’t you upset?”
“Upset?” Margaret laughed. “I’ve seen how Daniel treated you. You deserve this. If you’ve chosen James, he must be good.”
Emily’s throat tightened. She’d braced for anger—got warmth instead.
“I want you and Oliver happy. My son ruined enough.”
Relief washed over her.
“Let me help with the wedding,” Margaret said eagerly. “We’ll make it perfect!”
They talked dresses, flowers, venues—closer than ever. Emily realised she hadn’t lost a mother-in-law. She’d gained a friend.
From that day, their bond only grew. Margaret had a daughter in Emily; Emily had family in her. Some things, rare as they are, simply work out.
**Lesson:** Sometimes, letting go isn’t the end—it’s the start of something better.
