**Diary Entry: The Choice**
In a small town along the banks of the Thames, where the breeze carries the crisp scent of river air, Emily and James had been together for six long years. Yet James had never mentioned marriage. He lived comfortably with his parents in their cosy home, while Emily rented a tiny flat in town. It suited him—her company when he wanted it, quiet evenings by her side, then back to the familiar comfort of his own bed.
Emily, though, dreamed of a wedding and a place of their own. She knew buying a home would fall on her shoulders, so she worked tirelessly, saving every pound for a mortgage deposit. But doubt gnawed at her: why wasn’t James talking about their future? She believed he loved her, but his silence left her adrift. Enough was enough—she had to know where she stood.
*“I’m not ready for marriage. I need more time to think,”* James muttered, avoiding her eyes as he hurriedly gathered his things.
The floor seemed to drop beneath her. Shame burned her cheeks; her heart split in two. How had she missed it? He’d never planned to stay. Yet hope, that cruel trickster, had made her believe until the last moment.
A week passed in heavy silence. James vanished—no calls, no replies. Emily cycled through grief and fury before deciding tears wouldn’t change a thing. She threw herself into her dream: that flat she’d saved for. The deposit was finally enough, and the goal became her lifeline, dragging her away from thoughts of betrayal.
Three months later, Emily held the keys to a snug little flat on the town’s outskirts. The paperwork, the viewings, the mortgage stress—it all pushed James from her mind. For the first time, she felt free.
On her first evening there, she stepped out for groceries. Down a narrow lane, a scrawny kitten latched onto her. Its wide, hungry eyes stared straight into her soul. Emily froze. She’d never planned on pets, but this trembling little creature mirrored her own loneliness—lost, scared, needing shelter.
*“Take him, love, or the strays ‘round here’ll tear him apart,”* an elderly woman called as she passed. *“Plenty of ‘em, nasty beasts.”*
The words struck deep. Without thinking, Emily scooped up the kitten. Her life, her rules now. That’s how Oliver came into her home—a tiny ball of warmth who gazed at her with utter devotion.
Six months flew by. Life steadied—until James reappeared like a bolt from the blue, flowers in hand, full of promises. Emily, wary but soft-hearted, let him back in. He spoke of their future now, and hope flickered again.
Then came the day she’d longed for. James knelt, proposed. Overwhelmed, she cried happy tears—until his next words shattered her.
*“Just get rid of Oliver. Allergic since I was a lad, and I can’t stand cats anyway.”*
Her world tilted. After all the pain, all the waiting—*this* was his condition?
*“If you won’t toss him out, we can rehome him or… put him down,”* James added, mistaking her silence for hesitation.
*“Are you mad?”* Her voice shook with rage. *“He’s *alive.* He’s family!”*
*“Family?”* James scoffed, softening his tone. *“He’s just a cat, Em. Choose: you keep him and lose me.”*
Tears spilled freely. James dabbed them away, but her eyes stayed fixed on Oliver, curled trustingly in the corner—*You’ll do right by me.* She shoved James back.
*“I choose Oliver,”* she said, voice steady despite the tremor. *“He doesn’t betray me. Doesn’t make me bargain for love. I was a fool to trust you again. Get out.”*
The door slammed. Sinking to the floor, Emily felt Oliver leap into her lap, purring loudly. Then came the clarity: she’d chosen wisely. The tears dried. The future, suddenly clear, stretched ahead—happier, lighter. With Oliver curled close, a reminder: real love never asks you to sacrifice what matters.
**Lesson learned: Never let a man make you choose when the answer was never him to begin with.**
