**Diary Entry**
Sixty years old, living in OxfordI never imagined my past would return with such audacity after twenty years of silence. The cruelest part? It was my own son who brought it back.
At twenty-five, I was head over heels. Richardtall, charming, wittyseemed like a dream made real. We married quickly, and a year later, our son James was born. Those early years felt like a fairy tale. Our tiny flat was full of laughter, plans, and shared dreams. I was a teacher; he worked as an engineer. Nothing could shatter usor so I thought.
But Richard changed. Late nights grew frequent, excuses flimsier. I ignored the rumours, the unfamiliar scents on his collar. Until I couldnt. Hed been unfaithfulnot once, but habitually. Friends, neighbours, even my parents knew. I stayed, though. For James. I held on, praying hed come to his senses. Then one night, I woke to an empty bed and realised: I was done.
I packed my things, took five-year-old James by the hand, and left for my mothers. Richard didnt stop us. A month later, he moved abroadfor work, he claimed. Soon, he had a new wife. No letters, no calls. As if wed vanished. And so, I raised James alone. My parents passed. We weathered it allschool plays, illnesses, graduationsjust the two of us. I worked double shifts so hed never want for anything. My life was his.
When James started university in London, I sent care packages, money, encouragement. But a flat? Impossible. He never complained. Said hed manage. I was proud.
Then, a month ago, he arrived with news: he was getting married. My joy faltered when he hesitated, avoiding my gaze. Then it spilled out:
Mum I need your help. Its about Dad.
My breath caught. Richard had reappeared, offering James the keys to a two-bedroom flathis grandmothers inheritanceon one condition: I had to remarry him. Let him move into *my* home.
I stared, disbelieving. James pressed on: Youre alone. Why not try again? For me. For my future family. Dads changed
I walked to the kitchen. Kettle on, tea steeping, hands trembling. Twenty years Id carried us. Twenty years Richard hadnt cared. Now he waltzed back with a *bargain*.
Returning, I said quietly, No. I wont do it.
James erupted. Shouted that Id always put myself first. That Id robbed him of a father. That I was ruining his life *again*. I stayed silent. Every word cut deeper. He didnt know the nights Id wept from exhaustion. How I sold my wedding ring to buy his winter coat. How I skipped meals so he could have meat.
Im not lonely. My lifes been hard but honestmy job, my books, my garden, my friends. I wont welcome back a man who betrayed me, now seeking comfort, not love.
James left without a goodbye. He hasnt called. I know hes hurt. I understandhe wants security, just as I once did. But I wont trade my dignity for square feet. The price is too high.
Maybe hell understand one day. Until then, Ill wait. Because I love himtruly, without flats or conditions. I brought him into this world with love. Raised him with it. And I wont let love become a transaction now.
As for Richard? The past is where he belongs.
