**Family Secrets and the Path to Happiness**
Margaret Whitmore had bought a basket of ripe, fragrant strawberries at the farmer’s market in the quaint village of Windermere and decided to take them to her son and daughter-in-law. It was Saturday—Oliver and Emily would surely be home. The door to their flat in the old brick house was slightly ajar, so Margaret let herself in without knocking. She was just about to call out when she heard Emily sobbing bitterly in the next room, speaking on the phone. *What could have happened to upset her so much?* Margaret edged closer, holding her breath, straining to listen. What she heard made her gasp in shock.
Margaret had bought the strawberries fresh from the market, thinking Oliver and Emily might enjoy them. A weekend visit seemed harmless enough. The door was open, so she stepped inside quietly.
She meant to announce herself, but then Emily’s voice, trembling with tears, stopped her. Margaret froze in the hallway, listening.
*”Sophie, it’s like I don’t exist anymore,”* Emily wept. *”I bought a new dress, and all he did was grunt. He barely speaks to me now—always brooding, always distant. At night, he buries himself in his phone and then falls asleep. It’s like I’m invisible. He comes straight home from work, so I don’t think there’s someone else, but… We used to talk about having children, and now I’m terrified to even bring it up. I think he’s fallen out of love with me but won’t say it. Sophie, it’s over. I can’t live without Oliver. No one else matters to me.”*
*”Thanks for listening,”* Emily murmured. *”I’ve got no one else to talk to. Mum’s too wrapped up in her own life, and my mother-in-law would take his side in a heartbeat.”*
Margaret waited for the call to end before clearing her throat loudly. *”Anyone home?”*
*”Oh, hello, Margaret,”* Emily said, hastily wiping her cheeks.
*”Emily, love, I brought some fresh strawberries—thought you might like them,”* Margaret smiled, holding out the basket.
*”Thank you, I was just about to pick some up,”* Emily replied. *”Come in, would you like tea? I’ve got biscuits.”*
*”Please,”* Margaret nodded.
While Emily set the kettle on, Margaret turned over what she’d overheard. So, things weren’t as rosy as they seemed in her son’s marriage.
*”How have you been? How’s Oliver?”* she asked carefully. *”He rarely calls, and you two never visit. I don’t want to intrude—I know you’re busy…”*
*”He’s always at work,”* Emily sighed. *”Comes home, eats, watches telly, then straight to bed. We never go out—it’s like we’re pensioners already.”*
Margaret chuckled. She liked Emily—her honesty, her warmth. Oliver and she had been married three years, together even longer. A lovelier girl she couldn’t have wished for: bright, beautiful. Margaret had welcomed her as a daughter, never once giving in to the dreaded mother-in-law clichés.
*”Strange behaviour from Oliver,”* Margaret mused. *”You’re young, no children yet—ought to be out enjoying yourselves.”*
*”That’s what I keep saying,”* Emily’s voice wavered. *”Maybe he’s fallen out of love with me.”*
Tears welled again. Flustered, Margaret reached for her hand.
*”Emily, don’t be silly—of course he loves you! Perhaps it’s work stress, or exhaustion. Talk to him.”*
*”I’ve tried,”* Emily sniffed. *”He just says, ‘Everything’s fine, stop imagining things.’ But I want a baby, and for that, he’d actually have to… well, try.”*
*”I don’t know how to help,”* Margaret admitted. *”I can’t force him to listen, and I won’t make things worse by taking sides. If he thinks you’re complaining to me, he’ll only resent it. We’ll have to be clever about this.”*
Then it struck her.
*”There might be a way,”* she said, brightening. *”To rekindle a spark, so to speak.”*
*”How?”* Emily dabbed her eyes. *”I’ll do anything.”*
*”The neighbour’s nephew, James, is visiting. Tall, handsome, works in theatre—women notice him. What if Oliver saw you getting attention? A friend of mine did this—her husband had grown cold, but when a colleague gave her a lift home, he suddenly perked right up. Let me talk to James. We’ll stage a little… jealousy test. Don’t look at me like that—I may be the mother-in-law, but I’m still a woman who wants you happy.”*
Emily stared in disbelief.
*”No, that’s… silly,”* she said slowly. *”Maybe things will sort themselves.”*
*”Your call,”* Margaret winked. *”But the offer stands.”*
*”Thanks for caring,”* Emily whispered. *”I hope it won’t come to that. Oh—Oliver’s home.”*
*”Mum! Everything alright?”* Oliver strode in, frowning.
*”Just dropping off strawberries,”* Margaret said lightly. *”We were having tea. How’s work?”*
*”Fine,”* he muttered. *”Dad?”*
*”Gone fishing with his mate for the weekend,”* Margaret replied. *”Why don’t you two go out? Lovely weather for a stroll.”*
*”Can’t be bothered,”* Oliver shrugged. *”Rather stay in, watch a film.”*
Emily shot Margaret a helpless glance. Just as she’d said—no interest, no spark. What on earth was wrong with him?
Days later, a tearful Emily called. *”Margaret, I’ll do it—your plan. It’s unbearable! I changed my hair—everyone says it suits me, but Oliver didn’t even look! Maybe shaking him up is the only way. Please talk to James. We’ll pretend it’s work—I’m a designer, clients hire me. Let Oliver see us together. Maybe then he’ll feel something!”*
*”Brilliant!”* Margaret agreed. *”Let’s give it a go—might be just the push he needs.”*
That evening, Margaret broached the idea with James. He laughed but played along, handing over his number for Emily.
Then, disaster.
*”Why did I listen to you?!”* Emily sobbed down the phone the next night. *”Oliver’s left! Your plan ruined everything!”*
*”What happened?”* Margaret’s stomach lurched.
*”He was home after work,”* Emily wept. *”I dressed up, did my makeup—he didn’t even ask where I was going. James called, I said I’d meet him downstairs. That got Oliver’s attention—’Who’s this client?’ he asked. I said a big project, meeting at the café. He just shrugged. James pulled up, I got in the car. I know Oliver watched from the window—that was the point. James dropped me off, I sat alone for an hour, then came home… Oliver’s gone. His car, some of his things. He won’t answer my calls. This was a mistake!”*
*”I’ll talk to him,”* Margaret promised. *”This is my fault—I’ll fix it.”*
Guilt gnawed at her. She’d meddled, and now Emily would blame her forever.
Then, a knock.
*”Mum, you in?”* Oliver’s voice—he still had a key.
*”Come in, love,”* Margaret said.
*”Mind if I stay a few days?”* he asked flatly.
*”Yes, I mind,”* Margaret said firmly. *”Go home to your wife.”*
*”I can’t.”* His voice cracked. *”I… I need to let her go. She deserves better.”*
*”Better? Oliver, she adores you! What’s wrong?”*
*”I love her too,”* he whispered. *”That’s why I’m leaving. Let her find someone who can give her a child. Because I… Mum, I can’t. Saw a doctor. There’s a problem.”*
*”Why not tell her?”* Margaret’s heart ached.
*”Couldn’t,”* he admitted. *”She wants a baby so badly… Let her find a real man. Think she already has. Saw him today—some ‘client.’ Handsome bloke. The way she looked at him… I knew.”*
*”Oliver, listen,”* Margaret said gently. *”I found that man. Emily was heartbroken over your distance. She thought you didn’t love her anymore. James is the neighbour’s nephew—James only met her today—there was no meeting, she sat alone at the café, and now you’re both breaking your own hearts over nothing.
