“Look at what you’ve become!” Oliver sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he glared at his wife. She was no better than a dumpling—hardly the woman he’d married.
“Love, I’ve just had our baby. Give me time—I’ll lose the weight,” Emily whispered, her voice trembling.
“Every single one of my mates’ wives bounced back straight after giving birth. They didn’t let themselves go like this.”
Deep down, Oliver despised her. This wasn’t the woman he wanted—he’d imagined someone radiant, confident, always put together. Instead, there she stood, a sorry sight in her worn dressing gown, forever apologising with her eyes.
But Charlotte—oh, Charlotte was everything Emily wasn’t. Bold, stunning, undeniably fiery. She waited for him, aching for him, whispering promises of a life together if only he’d leave Emily behind.
His fingers twitched toward the phone in his pocket.
“I’m going for a walk—I’ll pick up some bread,” he lied.
The moment he stepped outside, he dialled Charlotte’s number.
“Hey, gorgeous. Missed you like mad. Can’t stand being at home. Want me to come over?”
“Mmm, hurry,” she purred.
He brought the bread back, flinched at the baby’s cries, then lied again—work had called him in for an emergency cover.
Emily nodded, understanding as ever, leaning in for a kiss he deftly dodged.
The baby settled, the house fell silent. Emily sat alone, turning Oliver’s cruel words over in her mind. She *had* changed since the wedding. Lost herself. The endless feeds, the snatched meals at odd hours—it had all taken its toll.
By 11 PM, she tried calling him. His phone was off.
Morning came, and Oliver strode in with cold finality. He was leaving. Found someone else. Never loved her. But he’d fight for custody—pay what he must.
The pain hit like a fist to the chest. But Emily didn’t beg. Didn’t shed a tear in front of him.
A year passed.
The baby grew, started nursery. Emily got a job, joined a gym, swam laps. The weight didn’t vanish—but she softened into something kinder, happier.
At work, a colleague named James took notice. Friendly at first, then dinners, walks in the park. Before long, they were serious—married within six months. He adored her, curves and all. Loved her smile, her warmth. Her son became his own, calling him “Dad” without hesitation.
Then, one day, an old neighbour bumped into her.
“Emily—you’ll never guess! Oliver married that mistress of his. She’s had a baby now, put on *so* much weight. Word is, he’s never home.”
Emily shrugged. She hadn’t seen him in ages. The pittance he sent for their son barely mattered.
Because now? Now she was happy. Truly, deeply happy—with a man who loved her, just as she was.
