**Diary Entry – 12th June**
*”You know how he looks at you? With love and admiration,”* my daughter said, quite pleased with herself.
Daniel stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Drops of water glistened on his toned chest—a man who could only be described as a dream. My heart ached sweetly in my chest.
He perched on the edge of the bed, reaching for me to kiss me. I turned my head away.
*”Don’t, or I’ll never leave. I have to go. Emily’s probably home already.”* I rested my cheek against his shoulder.
He sighed. *”Charlotte, how much longer? When will you tell your daughter about us?”*
*”Three months ago, you didn’t even know I existed, and you were fine.”* I stood and began dressing.
*”I don’t think I was ever truly alive until I met you. I can’t go a single day—”*
*”Don’t break my heart. Don’t walk me out.”* I slipped from the room before he could reply.
Walking down the street, I ignored the glances from passersby. It felt like they all knew where I’d been. Men watched with curiosity; women—with judgment.
Hardly surprising. I had it all—figure, poise, striking eyes, full lips. My dark hair had come loose from its clip. Yet all I wanted was to disappear.
***
I married young, at twenty, for love. Almost immediately, I fell pregnant. My husband begged me to reconsider, that we needed time to settle first. But I refused, convinced he’d grow to love our child. He never did. Men, I learned, often remain indifferent to children.
Then, a call from a stranger—an address where my husband spent evenings. I waited outside, hidden by a tree, until I saw him. Arm in arm with another woman.
I filed for divorce the next day. I wasn’t the forgiving type. Put Emily in nursery, returned to work.
Men came and went—none worth risking my heart for. Until Daniel. Tall, handsome, a perfect match. Passionate. One day, Emily asked where I went all dressed up.
*”A date,”* I half-joked.
*”Ah,”* she said knowingly. She never asked again.
Emily was built like me, though less striking in the face. People wondered how two beautiful parents had such an ordinary daughter. I was relieved. Beauty, I’d learned, brought more trouble than joy.
I’d never had close friends. Girls envied me; beside me, they felt plain. Perhaps that’s why I wed so young—hoping for companionship.
*”He’s a bit simple for you, even if he’s handsome,”* Mum had said.
***
*”Emily, I’m home,”* I called as I entered.
*”Doing homework,”* she replied from her room.
I changed, then headed to the kitchen. Emily joined me, tearing off a piece of bread.
*”Don’t spoil your appetite,”* I scolded, setting plates down.
*”I wanted to talk,”* I began.
*”Then talk,”* she said between bites.
*”My birthday’s soon.”*
*”I remember.”*
*”I… wanted to invite someone.”*
*”The man you’re sleeping with?”* She was unfazed.
*”Dating. Show some respect.”*
*”Same thing at your age.”*
*”So, can I invite him?”*
*”Fine. Will Gran come?”*
I exhaled. Fifteen was a difficult age, but she seemed unbothered.
*”Gran’s coming Sunday. I want you to get along with him.”*
*”Mum, just invite him.”*
Saturday morning, I cooked feverishly, eager to impress Daniel. He arrived with roses, a ring. I was stunned.
He tried too hard with Emily—loud, joking. She remained silent and serious. After he left, I found her in her room.
*”You don’t like him?”*
*”No.”*
*”Why?”*
*”He’s using you. How can’t you see it?”*
*”Did Gran—?”*
*”I have eyes, Mum.”* Her voice broke.
I turned to leave.
*”Mum… do you love him?”*
I nodded without looking back.
*”Then date him. Just don’t move him in.”*
*”Why?”*
*”I just don’t like him.”*
I couldn’t pry further. Strangely, relief washed over me. Things had moved too fast. That ring. How little I really knew of him.
The next day, Daniel called, missing me. Not once did he ask about Emily. Too confident?
I made excuses.
That evening, Emily was chatty with Gran, avoiding Daniel’s name. *Perhaps she sees what I can’t,* I thought.
We carried on, meeting at his place. Then, he snapped—called Emily selfish for “stealing” my happiness.
*”In a few years, she’ll be in love, and you’ll be alone!”*
*”Are you leaving me?”*
*”No, I just—”* He backtracked.
We parted coldly.
Two days later, Emily came home late.
*”Where were you? Homework?”*
*”Done. I’ve got news.”* Her eyes sparkled.
*”What?”*
*”Oliver and I found out about your Daniel.”*
*”Found what?”*
*”He doesn’t live where you think. He’s on Kensington Road—with a wife. And a son.”*
*”You followed him?”*
*”We saw them. He didn’t leave.”*
I fled to the bathroom, muffling sobs.
When I emerged, she’d eaten and gone to bed. I stood on the balcony, replaying every red flag—his sparse flat, the empty fridge. A love nest, nothing more.
*How long would he have lied?*
I swayed forward, gasping—until Emily yanked me back.
*”Mum! I’m sorry—I didn’t think—”*
*”It’s fine. Don’t spy again.”* I hugged her.
The next day, I confronted Daniel. Opened his wardrobe—two shirts. Nothing else.
*”You rent this place for us. You’re married.”*
He paled, then lashed out.
*”I thought you weren’t like other women—paranoid, suspicious—”*
*”Call me crazy next,”* I scoffed. *”Are you married?”*
He turned away. I left the ring on the table.
I wandered for hours. Letting go of love is like amputating a rotting limb—necessary, but brutal.
Three weeks later, Emily left for a school trip.
*”Mum… what about Robert from downstairs?”*
*”Who?”*
*”The quiet one. The handyman.”*
*”Why?”*
*”He loves you. You know how he looks at you?”*
*”How?”*
*”With love and admiration.”* She grinned.
I scoffed. *”Kindness isn’t enough.”*
But I remembered—how he’d helped with the pram years ago, how he’d always *”just happened”* to be outside. How he’d changed our locks after the divorce, stopping my ex from taking anything.
The next day, I knocked on his door.
*”My lock’s stuck. Could you…?”*
*”I’ll get my tools.”*
Fifteen minutes later, he arrived—clean-shaven, in a suit.
*”Checking locks in formal wear?”*
*”Seems it works fine.”* He smiled, crinkles forming at his eyes.
The kitchen table was set for two.
*”Emily’s away. Join me?”*
*”I don’t drink. Sit.”*
And just like that—love had been waiting all along, right under my nose.
