At last… or is it only the beginning?
When she married, Emily could never have imagined that her future husband, James, had long been trapped in a destructive addiction. They met in a whirlwind—swept up, carried away—and within weeks, he proposed, slightly tipsy, with the unmistakable scent of alcohol on his breath.
“Em, how about we get married?” he exhaled, leaning against the doorframe.
“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” she murmured, more surprised than angry. After all, she wanted to be married—all her friends already had their rings.
“Just celebrating,” James laughed. “This is a happy occasion—I just asked you to marry me!”
“Fine, but on one condition—only drinking on special occasions,” she warned.
“Well, this is a special occasion,” he joked.
Young, naïve, and in love—Emily didn’t know that James’s father had been drinking all his life. And his son had long since followed in his footsteps. His mother, Margaret, could only protest helplessly:
“You drank yourself into ruin, and now you’re dragging our son down with you!”
“Let him grow up a proper man!” his father smirked, pouring his son a drink at lunch.
After the wedding, the couple settled into a small flat Emily had inherited from her grandmother. At first, things were manageable: James worked, came home regularly, though often smelling of drink. There was always an excuse.
“Tom’s son was born—how could we not celebrate? Dave’s birthday, so I gave a toast… And then Steve from work had us over—couldn’t say no.”
Then their son, Oliver, was born. But fatherhood didn’t sober James up. He came home less and avoided the baby.
“Why don’t you spend time with Oliver?” Emily pleaded.
“You’re the one who says not to breathe on him after a drink,” he dismissed.
“Then stop drinking! How much longer can this go on?” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Eight years passed. Alcohol had consumed James’s life. He lost jobs one after another. Emily carried everything herself, though Margaret helped—buying things for her grandson, lending money when needed.
“Emily’s an absolute saint,” Margaret confided to her sister. “But my son… he’s getting worse and worse. I don’t recognise him anymore.”
James had become a shadow of his former self—gaunt, toothless, with no interest in life. No love, no care—nothing left.
“Leave him,” everyone advised—friends, colleagues, even neighbours.
But Emily pitied him. Like a stray dog. Until she realised Oliver was growing up, watching, absorbing—and now he didn’t even want to be home. Too much misery hung in the air.
Then she told her mother-in-law:
“Margaret, I can’t do this anymore. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Maybe… maybe he could get help?” Margaret whispered. “Is it too late?”
“How long did you try with his father?” Emily gave a bitter smile. “I want our son to grow up differently. I’d rather he never sees his dad again.”
Margaret just sighed.
“Where will he go? Of course, to us. What else can I do?”
But there was another reason. Emily had grown close to a colleague—Daniel. He’d recently joined their department—trim, fair-haired, with striking blue eyes and old-fashioned manners. Divorced, no drama, had moved to town to be near his father. The women in the office—some subtly, some openly—tried to catch his attention, but Daniel kept his distance.
When Emily filed for divorce, James didn’t even react. A few bags by the door, a short conversation—and he was gone. Back to his parents.
Two weeks later, Daniel approached her after work.
“Emily, fancy a coffee? Just to talk.”
She nodded, cheeks flushing. They sat in a café, and between laughter and quiet confessions, he suddenly said:
“I knew straight away—you’re not just a colleague. You’re meant to be mine.”
From that evening, everything changed. Yes, there was office gossip—especially from Nadia:
“Well, look at that—our quiet one stole Daniel away… After all my efforts.”
Emily just shrugged. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
Soon, Daniel proposed. A simple ring, a sincere gaze—and her heart raced again.
On Saturday, she invited Margaret over. The flat smelled of baking, tea steaming on the table.
“I have news,” Emily said, pulse quickening. “I’m getting married. To Daniel.”
Margaret froze—then hugged her, tears in her eyes.
“At last… Love, you deserve this happiness. I’ll help with the wedding. We’ll make it perfect!”
As they sat planning dresses, flowers, and guests, Emily realised—she hadn’t just kept her ex-mother-in-law. She’d gained a friend. And Margaret—a daughter she’d never had, but had welcomed wholeheartedly.
