**Diary Entry**
“Mum, you’ve got yourself a new son-in-law now! How could you do this to me?” shouted Eleanor, her voice trembling with bitterness. “I never want to see you at his place again! Just think about me for once!”
Eleanor is forty, and her anger was raw. She divorced Paul years ago and remarried three years back. They’d been together twelve years and had a daughter, Sophie, now ten. Recently, Eleanor had dropped Sophie off at Paul’s place in the quiet town of Oakvale—only to find her own mother, Margaret, there. Margaret had been visiting Paul more often lately, and the sight of her sitting in her ex-husband’s home felt like betrayal. The storm had been brewing ever since.
Margaret had always longed for a son but was only given a daughter. When Eleanor first brought Paul home, her parents were skeptical. A simple mechanic with no property to his name, he hardly seemed a suitable match. Margaret and her husband were cold at first, but over time—especially after her husband passed—she saw the kindness in Paul. He became her rock, always there to fix a leak or carry her shopping.
“Forgive me, Margaret,” Paul said soon after the wedding. “My own mum’s gone, but I can’t bring myself to call you ‘Mum.’”
She never pressed him. His respect was enough. Years passed, and she grew to admire his steady hands and even steadier heart. When Eleanor was pregnant with Sophie and Margaret was hospitalised for a kidney operation, Paul juggled it all—bringing meals, comforting them both, taking charge. After she was discharged, he handled everything at home, never letting either woman overexert themselves. And when Sophie was born, Paul glowed, the perfect father.
But Eleanor changed. A promotion at work introduced her to a different crowd, and suddenly, Paul wasn’t good enough. She mocked his plain clothes, his accent, his lack of a degree. “He can’t even talk about books properly!” she complained to Margaret, comparing him to her polished colleagues. Margaret defended him:
“You chose him, Eleanor. Your father didn’t approve, but you insisted. What’s changed?”
It broke Margaret’s heart to watch the marriage crumble. Paul earned more than some university lecturers, fixed everything around the house, adored his daughter—yet Eleanor saw none of it. One day, Margaret snapped:
“Paul’s got a heart of gold and hands to match! How many professors do you know who’d do half what he does for his family?”
But Eleanor only waved her off. She’d already met Anthony, her new beau, and measured Paul against him, finding only flaws. Soon, she filed for divorce. Paul listened in silence, never raising his voice. He just walked to the kitchen, shoulders shaking. The pain was clear, but he’d seen the coldness coming.
He left Eleanor the two-bedroom flat they’d bought together and moved into a rented bedsit. He paid child support without fail, spoiled Sophie with gifts, attended every school meeting, and had her every other weekend. Eleanor dropped her off without complaint—until she realised Margaret was visiting Paul too often.
A year ago, Paul had come to her first:
“Sorry it’s been so long. If you ever need anything fixed or fetched, just ask. And do drop by mine sometime.”
That’s how it began. Paul repaired her taps, brought groceries; Margaret brought pies and stayed for tea. They walked Sophie to the park together, and Margaret felt, at last, she had the son she’d always wanted. Meanwhile, Eleanor, wrapped up in her new marriage, drifted further away.
Then Eleanor found out.
“What, are you adopting him now?” she’d raged. “How can you keep up with him when I’ve got a new husband?”
The words stung, but Margaret wouldn’t back down. Paul had been there through her darkest days—he was family. There was no harm in their friendship, but Eleanor took it as treason. Now, they barely speak, and Margaret is torn between her daughter and the man who’s shown her nothing but kindness.
She won’t yield to the guilt. Paul earned his place in her life through loyalty and love. Eleanor can be furious, but Margaret won’t abandon someone who’s been more family than blood. She only hopes one day her daughter will see: a good heart matters more than old grudges.
Some bonds aren’t broken by divorce—only by pride.
