Broken Hearts and a Secret Spell
Olivia came home from a parents’ evening in a small town near Manchester. The moment she stepped inside, she headed straight to her son’s room for a serious talk.
“Mum, enough already—I’m sick of your lectures!” snapped Arthur.
“Enough? I’ve barely started! Mrs. Wilkins is absolutely fed up with you,” Olivia glared at him reproachfully.
“I’ll behave how I want! Like Dad does! No wonder he’s got another woman—you probably nagged him just like you nag me!” Arthur blurted out.
“Another woman? What are you talking about?” Olivia froze, her voice trembling with shock.
She’d just come from the meeting where the teacher complained again—Arthur wasn’t doing his homework, wasn’t paying attention, and had a cheeky attitude. What was wrong with him? He’d become distant, distracted, barely talking. She needed to speak with her husband—maybe he could sort it out.
Then she spotted his car parked by the pavement. Had he come to pick her up? How sweet! She quickened her pace—then stopped dead. Her husband, Oliver, stepped out with a bouquet of flowers… but walked straight past her to a stranger. The woman hugged him, took the flowers, and they drove off.
Olivia stood there, numb. Who was she? Tall, with flowing auburn hair and a fitted dress—the complete opposite of Olivia’s petite frame and dark bob. Oliver had said he’d be working late, discussing a new project with colleagues. Was *she* his colleague? In fifteen years of marriage, Olivia had never doubted him.
They’d married for love right after uni. His well-off parents had gifted them a flat in central Manchester. Her in-laws adored her, and when their daughter was born later, she was the apple of their eye. Oliver had taken over his father’s place in the family business when he retired. It was tough at first, but he won everyone’s respect. His salary covered everything—they bought a countryside cottage, holidayed abroad, hosted friends and family. He’d even suggested Olivia quit her nursing job to focus on the family, but she loved her work too much. Helping people was her calling.
And now? If he had someone else, he must have fallen out of love. He’d leave soon… Tears burned her cheeks. How could he? They weren’t just spouses—they were best friends, shared everything, had no problems in their marriage. He’d never even glanced at other women before, despite being handsome.
At home, she confronted Arthur again.
“Mum, stop it—I’m done with your nagging!” he snapped.
“Stop? Mrs. Wilkins says you’re completely out of control!”
“I’ll do what I want, like Dad! Now I get why he’s got another woman—you drove him away like you’re driving me!”
“What woman? Explain yourself!” Olivia’s voice cracked.
“I saw Dad in a café with some stunner. Walked right past me—didn’t even notice. What’ve you got to say?”
Olivia collapsed onto the sofa, covering her face. The floodgates opened.
“Mum, don’t cry…” Arthur, always protective of her, faltered.
“That’s it, then… We built a life, loved each other, and he’s thrown it all away…”
“Stuff happens. I love Dad too, but if he’s treating you like this, let him go. We’ll manage. I’m thirteen—I’m not a kid. But it hurts. He’s been a right git.”
Arthur handed her a tissue. She wiped her tears and hugged him.
“I’ll talk to him. He’ll tell me the truth.”
A few hours later, Oliver came home, looking shattered.
“Liv, I ate with colleagues. Just gonna shower and sleep. Knackered.”
“Oliver, I saw you… You gave her flowers, then drove off. I was walking back from school…”
He froze, face pale.
“You saw? Yeah… I’ve been seeing my new assistant, Kiera. Don’t know how it happened.”
“So what now? Leaving us?”
“Liv, I don’t *want* to go… But I’m drawn to her, like a magnet. I love you, but it’s like an obsession. She made the first move—invited me over to help with paperwork, introduced me to her mum. Kept inviting me back… I couldn’t say no. And… I fell for her. We met at our cottage. I’m sorry…”
“*Our* cottage? *Our* home?! Oliver, how could you?” Olivia gasped.
“Sorry. We should divorce. I can’t pretend nothing happened. I’ll support Arthur. You keep the flat—I’ll take the car and cottage.”
“You’ve decided already… She’s young—she’ll play with you and drop you. Use your head!”
The next day, Oliver packed his things and left while Olivia and Arthur were out. He left Arthur a letter trying to explain. Olivia stared at the empty wardrobe, her heart shattered. She’d loved him completely. Money never mattered—family did. Divorce? Fine. She and Arthur would manage.
Her mother-in-law called in tears:
“Liv, Oliver told me. How? Everything was perfect! Midlife crisis? What now? Why’s he chasing some girl? You’ve got Arthur—you’re a brilliant wife…”
“Margaret, I’m in shock too. Arthur’s furious—won’t speak to him.”
“Oh, love… Stay strong. We adore you. We’re here.”
“Thanks. We love you too.”
Two weeks later, Oliver returned for more belongings.
“Liv, hi. Mind if I grab a few things?”
“Go ahead.” She frowned—he looked awful: gaunt, exhausted, ill.
“Arthur’s ignoring my calls. I get it. Maybe he’ll come round…”
“Maybe. You look terrible. That girl sucking the life out of you?” Olivia scoffed.
“Something’s wrong. Weak, empty… Kiera irritates me, but I can’t leave.”
Olivia confided in her colleague Naomi, a close friend from the hospital.
“Liv, this smells fishy. My neighbor knows about this stuff. Fancy a visit?”
“Don’t believe in hocus-pocus. I’m a nurse!”
“Just humour me. Bring Oliver’s photo—just in case.”
That evening, they visited “Madame Vera.” A plain woman in a dressing gown—nothing like a “witch.” She took Oliver’s photo, lit a candle, and closed her eyes. Olivia bit back laughter, expecting theatrics.
“He didn’t leave willingly. He loves you,” Vera said.
Olivia snorted:
“Loves me? Then why’s he shacked up with someone else?”
“Don’t laugh. He’s hexed. Through food. That girl’s mum did it. They want his money—not him. Without the spell, he’d never have left. Your bond’s too strong.”
“Hexed? He’s a grown man—he chose this!”
“Her mum’s a witch. Money’s their goal. He’s poorly—that’s how hexes work. First euphoria, then weakness. Could end badly. Karma’ll get them, but later.”
Olivia hesitated. Vera wasn’t charging, seemed genuine.
“What do I do? He’s already gone.”
“Bring him home, away from them. I’ll give you a prayer—say it before the Virgin Mary in church. I’ll handle the rest. Leave the photo. He’ll improve in a week.”
Olivia agreed—what if it *was* true? Oliver wasn’t answering calls. She had to go to the cottage.
The taxi stopped at the gate. Memories flooded back—barbecues, laughter, dancing. Now she knocked like a stranger. Kiera opened the door.
“Olivia? Didn’t expect you…”
“I need Oliver.”
“He’s resting.”
“Now.”
She found Oliver curled up, pale, unshaven.
“Oliver… you’re ill?”
“Liv? What’s wrong?”
“Arthur’s in trouble—he needs you. You weren’t answering.”
“What happened?” Oliver scrambled up, reaching for his clothes.
“Can you drive? You look awful.”
“Feel rotten… But I’ll manage. Wait outside.”
Kiera blocked the door.
“Where’s he going? What’s happening?”
“Home, to his family. You never should’ve done this…”
“Done *what*?” Kiera bristled.
“You know. Stop it—it’ll backfire. Not scared?”
“You’re just jealous he’s with someone young and gorgeous! No spell!”
“I never mentioned a spell… Busted.”
“Take your useless man! Living in this dump when we could’ve had a penthouse!”
Oliver emerged, livid.
“So *that’s* why you wanted me? For my money? Piss off!”
Kiera stormed out. They locked up and got in the car.
Oliver squeezed Olivia’s hand as they drove away, finally free from the shadows that had nearly torn them apart.
