**A Heart Broken by Hope: The Path to New Happiness**
*Diary Entry*
“Emily, it’s over between us,” James said coldly. “I want a real family—children. You can’t give me that. I’ve filed for divorce. You’ve got three days to pack. Call me when you’re gone. I’ll stay at my mum’s until I arrange the flat for the baby and its mother. Oh, and don’t be surprised—my new woman is already pregnant. Three days, Emily. That’s all.”
Emily stood silent, the ground dropping away beneath her. What could she say? Five years they’d tried for a child. Three pregnancies, all ending in heartbreak. Doctors swore she was healthy, yet each time, something went wrong. She lived carefully, took every precaution. The last time, she’d collapsed at work—the ambulance hadn’t come fast enough.
The door slammed behind James, and Emily sank onto the sofa, drained. Packing felt impossible. Where would she go? Before marriage, she’d lived with her aunt, but she’d passed, and her son had sold the flat. Back to the village of Oakfield, to Gran’s old house? Rent a place? What about work? Questions swarmed, but time was short.
Morning brought the sound of the door opening. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, stepped in.
“Not sleeping? Good,” she said curtly. “I’m here to make sure you don’t take anything that isn’t yours.”
“I’ve no interest in your son’s old socks,” Emily snapped. “Shall we count my things, too?”
“Cheeky! You used to be so sweet, so quiet. I told James after the first time—you’d never carry a child.”
“Is that why you’re here? Then keep quiet and watch.”
“Where d’you think you’re taking that china set?” Margaret demanded.
“It’s mine. From my aunt—my only memory of her.”
“The place’ll look bare without it!”
“Not my problem. At least you’ll have a grandchild.”
“Take only what’s yours!”
“My laptop, coffee machine, microwave—gifts from colleagues. The car was mine before marriage. Your son has his own.”
“You’ve got everything, yet you couldn’t give him a child!”
“That’s not your business. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
“No regrets, then? Maybe you did it on purpose?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The thought alone hurts.”
Emily scanned the flat—her things were gone. Toothbrush, makeup, slippers… Something was missing. Margaret’s glares made it hard to think. Then she remembered—Gran’s porcelain cat. Inside it, a hidden compartment with earrings and a ring—not valuable, but precious. James had called it junk. Had he tossed it? She hurried to the balcony.
“What’re you doing out there?” Margaret barked. “Hurry up and leave!”
The cat was there, untouched. Now she could go.
“Here are the keys. Goodbye. Let’s not meet again.”
She stopped by the office. She’d been on sick leave but asked for holiday.
“We’re all sorry for you,” her boss said. “But we’re struggling without you. Three weeks enough? Stay reachable—half the projects stall without you.”
“Fine. It’ll distract me. Thanks.”
“Need any help?”
“No.”
“I’ll sort your holiday pay and bonus.”
“Thanks for that.”
Emily didn’t hunt for a flat—she drove to Oakfield. Gran’s house had stood empty since her death three years prior. Emily’s mother died in childbirth; now she, too, would never be a mother.
An hour’s drive, and she was home. The old oak tree, overgrown daisies. Last autumn, she and James had barbecued here. She parked in the yard—the shed key was inside. Pushing the door open, she froze. Silence. Dirty mugs and plates littered the table. She’d cleaned last time—who’d been here?
Two mugs, empty juice cartons, bottles of James’s favourite sparkling wine. Not from autumn. He’d visited. With whom?
“Doesn’t matter,” Emily muttered. New locks first. A fresh start, a deep clean, a scalding bath—she’d wash the past away.
A knock at the door, then the window.
“Who’s there?”
“Everything alright?” a voice called.
“Yes…” she replied, puzzled.
Stepping out, she saw a stranger.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I’m your neighbour. Saw you bustling about earlier, then smoke from the chimney. Wanted to check.”
“Thanks, all’s fine.”
“You related to James? He was here recently with a woman… Sister?”
“No. Almost ex-wife. Divorce pending.”
“And the house?”
“Mine.”
“I’m house-sitting for a mate—divorce, too. Free tomorrow. Need anything, just ask. I’m Paul.”
“Emily. Wait—can you change a lock?”
“Easy. Say when.”
“Soon as possible. I’ll buy one tomorrow.”
“Let me handle it—you might get the wrong type. I’m heading into town anyway.”
“Thanks.”
Two weeks passed. A week of holiday remained, but Emily didn’t want to return. James stayed silent, only sending divorce papers. Better that way—she couldn’t face him.
On Saturday, Paul invited her to walk by the river. She hadn’t planned new ties, but a stroll seemed harmless. They had a lovely time, returning by noon. James’s car sat outside. He’d just arrived, helping a pregnant woman out.
Emily and Paul approached the gate. James fumbled with the lock, but it held firm.
“What’s this?” he grumbled.
“And what are *we* doing?” Emily called. “Breaking into someone’s home?”
James paled.
“This *is* our home!” his companion squeaked.
“Really? Who told you that? James? This is *my* house. Leave.”
“Mike, what’s she on about? Who is she? Your ex? Make her go!” the woman shrieked.
Emily and Paul laughed. James wordlessly guided her back to the car and drove off.
“He’s in for a fun life,” Paul remarked.
“But she’ll give him a child. I couldn’t. Three times. Sorry.”
“My wife left because she *didn’t* want kids…”
Four years later, Emily bumped into Margaret at the shops.
“Emily, I barely recognised you!” Margaret gasped. “You’re… pregnant?”
“Yes,” Emily smiled, a hand resting on her bump.
“Where’s James now?”
*Like I care*, she nearly said. “No idea.”
“Poor James. His son was born weak—something hereditary. His wife left him with the baby. And you? Decided to be a single mum?”
“No. I’ve got a family. They’re waiting.”
“I’m sorry for everything…”
“Wish you patience.”
Margaret watched as Emily walked away, hand in hand with Paul, their little girl—the spitting image of her mother—skipping beside them.
*Lesson learned: Some doors close so better ones can open. And sometimes, the family you find is worth more than the one you lost.*
