Life, Like the Moon: Sometimes Full, Sometimes Waning I believed our marriage was as eternal and unbreakable as the universe—how wrong I was… I met my future husband, David, at medical school; we married in our fifth year. My mother-in-law’s wedding gifts were a trip to the Lake District and keys to a new flat. Life seemed perfect. We moved into a three-bedroom flat, with his parents helping us at every turn. Each year, thanks to their generosity, we holidayed all over Europe. We were young and blissful, with our whole future ahead—David became a virologist, I a GP, and our sons, Daniel and Victor, completed our happiness. But looking back, I realise my life then was a river in full flow—I lived in luxury for a decade. And then, it all collapsed overnight. …The doorbell rang. I opened it to a pretty but troubled-looking young woman. ‘Are you Sophia? I’m here to see you—may I come in?’ she asked, hesitantly. She was slightly pregnant. ‘My name’s Tanya. I’m ashamed to say this, but I love your husband. David loves me, too. We’re having a baby,’ she blurted. She handed me a small velvet box. Inside was a gold ring. ‘Is this some kind of bribe? David isn’t for sale!’ I snapped, returning the ring. Tanya began to cry, pleading for understanding, but I felt only sorrow for myself. This woman had stolen my happiness. I pushed the ‘compensation’ back to her, ushered her out, and from that moment, my life began to unravel… My mother-in-law called: David was leaving. She packed his things, gently telling me, ‘We’ll always be family, no matter what. David and his new girl, well—let them get on with it.’ Within months, David had a new family, including Tanya’s daughter from her first marriage. He never visited our sons, sent only minimal support via his mother; it was the ‘90s. I ended up hospitalised with a breakdown. The boys stayed with their grandmother, spoilt and cared for. When I tried to bring them home after my recovery, they refused—her cooking and lenience were too tempting. What could I say? ‘Let them stay with us,’ my mother-in-law coaxed. ‘You’ll need to downsize the flat, anyway.’ So, I was left alone, soon forced to trade our spacious home for a tiny, shabby bedsit—a far cry from before. I saw my sons only on holidays. ‘Let’s not upset the boys’ contentment,’ my mother-in-law would say. They drifted from me; the connection broke. I longed to disappear into my cold, lonely corner. My gran used to say, ‘Life is like the moon: sometimes full, sometimes waning.’ It couldn’t go on like that. Even my first-class medical degree felt meaningless. …Work sent me to a conference in France, where I had a whirlwind romance with a Serbian doctor, Ivan. For ten days, I came back to life. There were other brief liaisons after, but nothing lasting. Once, my mother-in-law remarked, ‘Sophia, you’re glowing! You look like spring itself!’ Yet I remained alone. When my best friend emigrated to Greece, she introduced me to her ex. ‘Sophia, you take Alexander! He’s all yours now!’ she joked. So, I picked up the pieces of a man left behind. Alexander became my husband, but he had a major flaw: he was a hopeless alcoholic. I couldn’t leave him, no matter the heartbreak, and spent seven years fighting for him—rehab, doctors, tears. At last, he sobered up and now works as a driver at the local mortuary—sobering work, but he comes home quiet and, more importantly, sober. My friend from Greece can scarcely believe it: ‘Alexander isn’t drinking? I don’t believe it!’ I just laugh: ‘No refunds or exchanges!’ My sons are in their thirties now, both bachelors after witnessing so much marital upheaval as boys. I doubt I’ll have grandchildren. As for my ex-husband, David—his second wife, Tanya, drank herself into oblivion, and their daughter is now a single mum. David remarried again, this time to his nurse. Just before the wedding, he even asked our sons, ‘Would your mum want to start over with me?’ I answered sharply, ‘When pigs fly! In other words—never!’

LIFE, LIKE THE MOON: SOMETIMES FULL, SOMETIMES A SLIVER

I used to believe our marriage was as unshakeable and endless as the universe itself. Alas, the joke was on me…

I met my future husband at medical school in London when we were both students. We tied the knot in our final year. My mother-in-law, as a wedding gift, handed us tickets for a holiday in Yugoslavia (now Slovenia, but thats ancient history) and a set of keys to a flat in Croydon. And that was just the beginning.

Once we became husband and wife, we moved straight into a three-bedroom flat. My in-laws were eager beavers, always ready to lend a hand. Thanks to them, my husband and I whizzed off around Europe every year; we were young, hungry for life, and deliriously happy. All of life seemed to sprawl out ahead of us. William was a virologist, I was a GP. Work, heal, love repeat. Our sons arrived: Daniel and Victor.

Even now, all these years later, I recognise that life back then was a roaring river fast-moving, exhilarating, and generous to a fault. Looking back, I practically wallowed in luxury for the ten years I was married. Until it all collapsed, out of the blue.

…Ding dong. I open the door. A dainty girl stood there, looking as if she was about to burst into tears.

Who are you after, dear? I asked, perfectly serene.

Are you Sophie? I, um, I need to speak with you. May I come in? she stammered.

Come in, then, I replied, curiosity piqued.

She shuffled in, and I noticed she was ever so slightly pregnant.

Sophie, Im Tanya. This is dreadfully awkward, but Im in love with your husband. William loves me, too. Were going to have a baby, she blurted, red-faced.

Well. Thats a surprise. Is that it? I could feel my ears getting hot.

Not quite, she said, pulling a rather posh box from her coat pocket. Here, Sophie. Please take this.

I opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold ring.

What on earth is this for? Do you think you can buy my husband? Williams not for sale! Take it back! I snapped the box shut, growing positively furious.

I dont want to insult you! I feel so guilty! I know you and your boys will suffer, but I just cant live without Will! Please, just take the ring. Maybe itll make me feel a speck better, Tanya began sobbing in earnest.

I had a flash of sympathy for her. For one pathetic moment. Goodness knows, whos going to pity me? Heres this homewrecker whos nicked my happiness, and Im feeling sorry for her. Snap out of it! I shoved her peace offering right back at her and kicked my competition out the door. That very moment, my life began its dramatic tumble down the nearest hillside.

Not long after, my mother-in-law rang to announce that William was leaving us. She showed up shortly after, politely asked me to pack up all of his clothes, and pointed out Id probably need help with the suitcases.

Sophie love, no matter what happens, well always be family. And Will and Tanya? Like a pair of lost kittens: wherever they stop, thats where theyll snuggle, she said, not particularly reassuringly.

Six months later, Will and Tanya had a daughter. Rumour has it, he went and adopted Tanyas daughter from her first marriage, too. In the meantime, William didnt so much as set eyes on our two boys, sending over a few meagre pounds each month via my mother-in-law, supposedly for child support. It was the 90s nobody had any money, but still!

I ended up in hospital with a nervous breakdown. My sons, Daniel and Victor, moved in with their grandmother, who doted on them and spoiled them rotten. After my stint in hospital, I dashed over to collect my boys. But both flatly refused to come home with me.

Gran feeds us lovely dinners, never scolds us, and we can eat as many sweets as we want, they said, arms crossed. Honestly, I didnt have a leg to stand on.

Nina, my ex-mother-in-law, hugged the boys tight and murmured, Oh Sophie, let them stay with us for now. Especially while youre sorting out the flat youll need to downsize from the three-bed, after all. No sense paying for all that space.

And so, I went home alone, feeling as if the family had queued up to take my happiness in turns. First my husband, now my children.

The flat had to go; I ended up in a poky one-bed in Streatham. It hadnt seen so much as a lick of paint since Margaret Thatcher left Downing Street: peeling wallpaper, ancient plumbing, wooden floors that creaked like a haunted house.

My sons stayed with their grandmother, and I was only allowed to visit on high holidays.

Soph, lets not upset the boys peace of mind with your popping round. Go out and live your own life, Nina would sigh theatrically each time.

The boys drifted away from me. That close mother-son bond simply vanished, like a good cup of tea left to go cold. I slumped in my freezing little flat, longing to disappear completely. Life tasted like cardboard.

My gran used to say, Lifes like the moon now its full, now its a crooked slice. I realised I couldnt go on like that. Id drive myself batty. I was itching to do something anything wild and irresponsible for once, instead of being everyones doormat. I did, after all, pass med school with distinction.

Work sent me off to a conference in Paris. Thats where I met a charming fellow named Ivan a Serbian doctor, no less. Heaven knows how we communicated, but who needs words when mad love is in the air?

Ten days later, the conference ended; I had to go home. I didnt want to! That spontaneous, whirlwind romance with Ivan snapped me out of my misery. My eyes sparkled again. There were other dates and goodbyes after that, nothing to write home about. Just a handful of tepid encounters, really.

My ex-mother-in-law commented one day, Sophie, you look positively radiant! Like springtime in full bloom!

Still, I was mostly alone. Then, my best friend Olivia off to settle in Greece for good invited me over for one last knees-up. She was still single and childless.

Thats it, Sophie, Im marrying a Greek. Im done with blokes here who think wine means a bottle of White Lightning in the park. I just want to live like a normal woman for once, Olivia sniffled.

Why the tears? Youre about to start a whole new life! Forty is the new thirty! I didnt get the waterworks.

Look, Sophie! My Alex doesnt know whats coming. Id love for you to meet him. Maybe youll hit it off. Consider it my leaving gift: hes all yours! Olivia declared, with a flourish.

Well, when the universe chucks a potential partner in your lap, you dont say no! I scooped up Alex and made him my lawful husband.

He only had one flaw but what a flaw it was, sweeping away all the good qualities he might have had. As the saying goes, every silver lining has a cloud. Alex, bless him, drank like there was a gin drought. But love, as we know, is splendidly irrational sometimes you fall head over heels for the devil himself if hes wearing the right shoes.

So began years of clinics, rehab centres, rivers of gin, and not a drop of hope. I stuck by him, though. Alex would mutter, Sophie, its you that wants me sober. Im just fine, thanks.

It never even crossed my mind to leave him! I figured, dodgy as he was, at least I had a husband. I was done with the loneliness it stung like stinging nettles. For some reason, I decided it was my sacred duty to fight for my man, just as that Tanya had snatched away Will. Seven years it took to win.

Alex finally sobered up. He landed a job as a driver at the local mortuary macabre, granted, but it certainly left an impression! At last, I had a model husband. He came home quiet, deep in thought, and best of all stone cold sober.

Olivia, popping back from Greece now and then, would marvel, Alex? Sober? Pull the other one!

Id cackle, No refunds, no exchanges!

My sons grew up. Now in their thirties, both still bachelors. After witnessing the adult soap opera that was our family, theyre in no rush down the aisle not that they haven’t tried. I suspect grandchildren may forever remain a distant dream.

Now, a word about my ex-husband: Williams second, endlessly compassionate wife, Tanya, drank herself into oblivion. Their mutual daughter is raising a child alone. Meanwhile, Wills onto his third wife his desk nurse from the clinic. But before taking the plunge, he delicately asked our sons, Would your mother be interested in starting over?

I replied, clear as church bells: Only when pigs fly, William. Never.He blinked, and for a moment I saw the shy student I once fell for. But that young man was gonejust a faded photograph in my minds dusty album.

Now, sometimes, Ill walk through my crumbling Streatham neighbourhood at twilight and catch the moon peeking between ragged cloudsa cheeky grin, sometimes a thin, lopsided sigh. I think about all the things that left and all the messy, beautiful things that stayed. My flat is still impossibly small, but it overflows: with my books, my wonky furniture, and laughter echoing down the phone lines from friends far and near.

Sometimes Daniel and Victor stop by with takeaway and leave muddy footprints on my floor. Sometimes Olivia sends me postcards with sparkling blue seas and illegible Greek scrawls. Sometimes Alex comes home from work late, smelling faintly of lilies and disinfectant, and brews us strong tea, no gin in sight. We talk about everything and nothing; we hold hands and dont mind the silence.

Lifes not grand, but its honestly mine. I have learned at last that even a sliver of joy, if you hold it up to the light, can shine brighter than the whole careless moon.

Tonight, as I watch that fickle moon climb over Streatham Hill, I make a quiet vow: next time its full, Ill dance in its pale glow, barefoot and unburdened, and let the neighbours gossip as much as they like.