**Diary Entry**
*March 10th*
“Look at the state of you!” He sneered. “More like a dumpling than a wife!”
James glared at his wife, the disdain clear in his eyes. He was tired of her—tired of the house, the crying baby, the exhaustion that clung to the air like stale perfume.
“Darling, I just had our son. Give me time—I’ll lose the weight,” Emily whispered, her voice trembling.
“All my mates’ wives bounced back ages ago. None of them let themselves go like this, even during pregnancy!”
In truth, James despised her. This wasn’t the woman he’d married—not the lively, put-together, effortlessly beautiful companion he’d envisioned. Instead, there she stood: a weary, apologetic mess in a dressing gown.
But Lily… *Lily* was different. Confident, playful, effortlessly glamorous. She adored him, always waited for him, always *wanted* him. And, like any mistress, she dreamed of the day he’d leave Emily.
His hand drifted to his phone.
“Going out for a walk. Might grab some bread,” he lied.
The moment he stepped outside, he called Lily.
“Hey, Kitten,” he murmured. “Missed you. Can’t stand being home. Coming over?”
“Waiting for you,” she purred.
James returned with the bread, winced at the baby’s cries, and told Emily he’d been called into work. Shift work made the lie easy—covering for a sick colleague, no less.
Emily nodded, leaning in for a kiss, but he dodged it smoothly.
Later, alone in the silent house, she replayed his words. It was true—she’d changed since the wedding. The weight, the exhaustion, the endless cycle of feeding the baby at odd hours.
At 11 PM, she tried his phone. It was off.
By morning, James returned—and before he’d even taken off his coat, he declared he was leaving. He loved someone else. He didn’t love her. But he’d pay child support.
The pain was indescribable. But she didn’t cry. Didn’t beg.
A year passed.
The baby grew, started nursery. Emily found a job, joined a gym, swam laps. The weight began to fade—not dramatically, but enough.
At work, a colleague, Thomas, took an interest. He invited her to the cinema, then for walks in the park. Six months later, they married. He adored her smile, her kindness—her curves never mattered. Her son called him “Dad.”
Then, an old neighbour mentioned James.
“Remember him? Married that mistress of his. She’s had a baby now—put on *so* much weight. Guess who’s always ‘working late’ these days?”
Emily didn’t care. The alimony was pitiful, his involvement scarce. But none of it mattered.
Because now, with Thomas, she was happy. Truly, deeply happy.
