No Divorce
By the time he hit fifty, Stephen Watson barely had a speck of grey in his hair, but there was a devil in his ribs, no doubt about it. And it was all because of her—Emily. He’d met her by chance when he popped into the university where his old mate lectured. The question he’d gone there with was trivial—the consequences, life-changing.
She stood by the window, sunlight catching in her golden hair. Bright green eyes, a slender figure, brimming with mischief and life… Suddenly, Stephen, a man long past his youth, felt like a boy again. Emily seemed like every fantasy he’d ever had—a fairy, a siren, a nymph. In reality, she was just a pretty student, but that realisation came much later. In that moment, he was spellbound.
He hadn’t felt passion like this, not even in the early days with his wife, Margaret. Thirty years of marriage, two grown kids, a shared past, a home, mutual understanding, the odd row—all of it vanished from his mind the moment he looked at Emily.
She didn’t resist his advances. Quite the opposite—she encouraged them. To her, he was an opportunity. Raised in a modest family, barely scraping her way into uni, she dreamed of staying in the city. And Stephen? He was her ticket in.
“God, he’s ancient!” her flatmate Lucy groaned. “Are you mad? You’d actually live with him?”
“Ancient? Hardly,” Emily scoffed. “He’s lively, well-off, head over heels for me. Watch—he’ll propose soon.”
Stephen fell hard. He was tender, generous, attentive. But not once—not a single word—did he mention divorce. Emily waited, hoped. Her plan was simple: Stephen’s kids were grown, his wife was healthy, life was steady. And he had money. A wedding seemed inevitable. But then, Stephen started to flag. Turns out, keeping up with a young lover wasn’t easy for a man his age. He wanted to meet once a week, maybe in a hotel, then retreat to his quiet home—where Margaret, a cosy meal, and comfort waited.
Emily began pressing.
“Why can’t we move in together? You’ve got that other flat!”
“Tenants,” he lied. The flat was empty—he and Margaret were planning a renovation. But turning it into a love nest? Not happening.
“Then rent a new one! You’re a grown man!”
The fights got worse. And then—bam.
“I’m pregnant, Steve,” Emily said (yes, that’s what she called him). “You happy?”
Stephen froze. He’d been planning to end things—even came back early from a work trip to do it. And now—a baby.
“But you said you were on the pill…”
“Nothing’s foolproof! I thought you’d be thrilled…”
He wasn’t thrilled. He was panicked. But he stayed. The baby arrived—a boy, Oliver. Stephen helped with money, visits, attention. Emily demanded more.
“I’m tired of being a secret! Either you tell your wife, or I will!”
Before he could decide, Emily took matters into her own hands. Days later, Margaret confronted him.
“So, you’ve got a child and you’re planning to marry some student? Is that right?”
“Maggie, it’s not like that… I can explain…”
“Let me make one thing clear—I won’t give you a divorce,” she said, calm but firm. “I didn’t build this family for thirty years just to hand it over to some girl.”
Relief washed over him. Not because he’d dodged a split, but because she still wanted to save their marriage.
“I love you, Mags. Forgive me. It was madness—I don’t know what got into me…”
“But the baby—he’s innocent,” she added. “We’ll take him. And you cut ties with her—for good. Then I’ll forgive you. Properly.”
Stephen couldn’t believe his ears. But Margaret, as always, had it all figured out. Emily, exhausted with the baby, no help, no support, was more than happy to hand Oliver over when he offered a solution.
“I want Oliver to live with us. You can go back to uni, get your life back. We’ll manage.”
“Fine,” she said flatly. “Just don’t come crying to me later.”
The paperwork was quick—father acknowledged, mother not contesting. Oliver moved in. Margaret cared for him, though distantly. Stephen hoped time would soften things. A year passed.
Then—out of nowhere.
“I’m filing for divorce,” Margaret announced, back from a work trip. “I’ve met someone else. And I’ve realised—I’m only happy with him.”
“Who the hell is he?”
“James. He lives out of town, but he’s moving in with me. You keep the flat. Fair’s fair.”
“But you said…”
“At the time, I meant it. But love doesn’t work on command. I’m sorry.”
She left. Oliver and the past stayed with him. He tried going back to Emily—she just laughed.
“You got what you wanted, Steve. I got my freedom. Enjoy your life now. My wedding’s coming up.”
He was alone. With a son he’d grown to love. No wife, no mistress. Just the quiet certainty that maybe—this was exactly what he deserved.
