My dear friend Emily, who also happens to be my goddaughter, has finally left her husband Victor, and I couldn’t be happier for her. That Victor was quite the piece of work—never earned a penny, spent all day arguing and chasing after every skirt in sight. Just the other day, Emily called me, glowing with happiness, bragging about her trip to the Lake District with her new beau, William. I nearly choked on my tea when I heard. Imagine how quickly she turned her life around! But truth be told, I’m over the moon for her—she deserves every bit of happiness after all she’s been through.
Emily and Victor were together for nearly ten years, and all that time, I’d look at her and think, *Emily, when are you finally going to kick him to the curb?* He was one of those men who thought just being in the house was contribution enough. Work? Never heard of it. Yet every evening, he’d sprawl on the sofa like a king, demanding dinner while criticising Emily’s cooking. And then there were his little *adventures* on the side! More than once, she caught him with suspicious texts on his phone or lipstick on his collar. Of course, he’d deny it, blaming her: *You drove me to it!* I told her a hundred times, *Leave him, you’re young, beautiful—you’ll find a proper man.* But she put with it, whether out of love or fear of being alone.
Then, three months ago, Emily had finally had enough. She later told me how she’d found messages on Victor’s phone from some floozy and discovered he’d blown their savings on his little escapades. That was the final straw. She packed his things, threw them out the door, and said, *That’s it, Vic—go find yourself another fool.* When I heard, I nearly applauded. Victor, of course, tried to worm his way back—sometimes with flowers, sometimes with empty promises to *change.* But Emily stood firm. *Enough,* she told me. *I won’t live with a man who doesn’t respect me.*
And just like that, before I knew it, she was calling me, gushing about William. They’d met, of all places, in a café. She’d stopped in for coffee after work, and there he was at the next table, reading a book. She said he caught her eye straightaway—polished, well-spoken, with a sharp wit. One thing led to another, they got chatting, swapped numbers. A fortnight later, William suggested a getaway to the Lake District—renting a cottage in the hills, hiking, maybe even a bit of boating. *Can you believe it?* Emily laughed. *He planned everything, even hired the car! Victor would’ve just moaned about the cost.*
Listening to her, I could hardly believe it. The same Emily who’d sobbed in my kitchen not long ago was now laughing, making plans, and telling me how William had taught her to make proper spaghetti carbonara. *He’s not just some fling,* she said. *He listens—actually cares what I think.* And that’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just a holiday romance. Emily was truly in love, and William might just be the one to make her happy.
Of course, the gossip started soon enough. Mutual friends were whispering, *Emily’s moved on awfully quick, hasn’t she? Barely six months!* I shut them down: *Good for her! Life’s too short to waste on the likes of Victor!* Some still reckon she’s rushing things with this new chap. But I see how she’s come alive. Before, she walked around with dead eyes—now she’s laughing, joking, even dyed her hair a rich chestnut. *I want to look good for myself,* she says, *and for William.*
When she first mentioned the Lake District, I couldn’t help asking, *Em, do you even know this William properly?* She just laughed. *Enough to go away with him! He’s a software engineer at some big firm, and he’s got a cat he adores. Proper bloke, not like Victor.* I’ll admit, I still worry—what if he’s not what he seems? But Emily’s firm: *If it comes to it, I know how to pack my bags now. No one’s walking over me again.*
Her story made me think. How many women put up with men like Victor, too afraid of change? But Emily took the leap and rewrote her life. I almost envy her courage. She didn’t just walk away—she started fresh. And from the looks of it, this new chapter is going to be brilliant. The Lake District, William, new plans… I can’t wait till she’s back, telling me all about their hikes and mulled wine by the fire.
Yesterday, Emily sent me a photo—her in a bright woolly hat, cheeks rosy from the cold, standing in front of snow-dusted hills with a handsome chap who must be William. The caption read: *Life’s just getting started!* And you know what? I believe her. She’s earned her happy ending. As for Victor? Let him argue with his own reflection. Emily’s on a whole different path now—and it suits her far better.
Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away, because happiness isn’t found in waiting—it’s in choosing yourself.
