**One Step Away from Divorce**
Emma had been pleading with her husband for weeks to visit her great-grandmother, Margaret Whitmore, in the Cotswolds. The elderly woman lived alone in a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. She’d just turned ninety-eight, and every visit could be the last. Yet James always had an excuse—work, exhaustion, or simply a lack of interest.
“Please, just this once,” Emma begged. “She promised to share that secret—the one that kept her and Great-Grandad together for sixty-two years. But only if we come together.”
James scoffed. “If it’s so powerful, why haven’t you told me already?”
“Because she swore only to say it with both of us there. She called them ‘magic words’—something every couple should know. They never even considered divorce, not once.”
He sighed. James didn’t believe in magic or old-fashioned advice. But seeing the hope in Emma’s eyes, he relented. “Fine. But we’re not staying long. In, out, done.”
Margaret greeted them from her neatly made bed. Despite her age, her gaze was sharp, full of quiet strength. She smiled faintly at Emma, then studied James for a long moment.
“So, you’ve come for the words?”
“Yes, Nan,” Emma said eagerly. “The secret that holds a marriage together. We’re listening.”
The old woman closed her eyes briefly, then whispered, “A vicar gave it to us. We married in a tiny chapel—no other churches nearby. He said, ‘Remember this: Divorce is just one step away.’”
James frowned. “One step?”
“Yes. One wrong move—a harsh word spoken in anger, a glance over your shoulder, a day you leave and don’t come home. It’s easy to break a marriage. But to keep it? That’s work. Every time you argue, every bitter thought—remember those words. Divorce is just one step away. Take it, and there may be no turning back.”
Silence filled the room. Emma looked down. James stood, walked to the window, and stared outside before murmuring, “My parents divorced when I was ten. It started with one step—Dad stayed out all night. Mum didn’t believe his excuse. Then word by word, it all fell apart.”
He turned to Emma. “Lately, we’ve been closer to that edge than ever.”
She nodded, blinking back tears.
They drove home in silence, fingers tightly entwined as if afraid to let go. When they reached their house, James suddenly pulled Emma close and whispered, “Let’s promise—we’ll never take that step.”
She nodded, and in that moment, they both understood—they didn’t just have Margaret’s memory now. They had an anchor. Just one phrase, and an entire life could shift.
