**No Divorce for You**
By fifty, Stephen Whitmore had barely a grey hair, but the devil had taken up permanent residence in his ribs—all because of her: Emily. He’d bumped into her by chance while visiting the university department where his old friend taught. A trivial errand, yet it altered everything.
She stood by the window, sunlight dancing through her golden curls. Vivid green eyes, a slender frame brimming with defiance and vitality… For a moment, Stephen—long past his boyhood—felt like a young man again. Emily seemed an enchantress, a siren, the embodiment of every fantasy. In reality, she was just a pretty undergrad, but Stephen wouldn’t grasp that till later. For now, he was bewitched.
He’d never burned like this, not even for his wife, Margaret, in their early days. Thirty years of marriage, two grown children, a shared history, a home—all of it evaporated the second he saw Emily.
She didn’t resist the attention of her distinguished admirer. Encouraged it, even. To her, he was opportunity. Raised modestly, scraping into university by sheer luck, she dreamed of staying in London. Stephen was her ticket in.
*”He’s ancient!”* Her flatmate, Sophie, scoffed. *”Are you mad? Could you even stand living with him?”*
*”Hardly ancient,”* Emily shrugged. *”Fit, well-off, head over heels. Mark my words, he’ll propose soon.”*
Stephen fell completely—tender, generous, utterly besotted. Yet not once did he mention divorce. Emily waited, schemed. His kids had flown the nest; his wife was stable, their life quiet. And he had money. A wedding seemed inevitable. But then Stephen began to tire. A mistress’s demands were too much for a man his age. A weekly hotel rendezvous suited him fine; the rest of the time, he craved his armchair, Margaret’s cooking, and peace.
Emily grew impatient.
*”Why can’t we move in together? You’ve got that flat in Kensington!”*
*”Tenants,”* he lied. Truthfully, it stood empty—he and Margaret had planned renovations. But turning it into a love nest? Never.
*”Then rent somewhere new! Be a man!”*
Arguments multiplied. Then came the bombshell.
*”I’m pregnant, Chris,”* Emily said (yes, that’s what she called him). *”Aren’t you happy?”*
Stephen froze. He’d returned early from a business trip to end things. Now—a child.
*”You said you were on the pill—”*
*”Nothing’s foolproof! I thought you’d be pleased…”*
Pleasure was the last thing he felt. Yet he stayed. Their son, Oliver, arrived. Stephen helped—money, visits, affection. But Emily wanted more.
*”I’m done being your secret. Tell your wife, or I will.”*
Before he could decide, Emily took charge. Days later, Margaret confronted him:
*”So you’ve got a child and plans to remarry? True?”*
*”Maggie, it’s not like that—”*
*”I’ll say this now: I won’t grant a divorce,”* she said calmly. *”Thirty years building this family—I won’t toss it for some student.”*
Relief washed over him. Not because he’d avoided separation, but because she still wanted them.
*”I love you, Maggie. Forgive me. It was madness—”*
*”But the boy’s innocent,”* she cut in. *”We’ll take him. End it with her—properly—and I’ll forgive you. Truly.”*
Stephen couldn’t believe his ears. But Margaret, ever pragmatic, had it sorted. Exhausted and unsupported, Emily gladly handed Oliver over when he proposed:
*”I want him with us. You can return to your life. We’ll manage.”*
*”Fine,”* she said flatly. *”Just don’t come crying later.”*
Custody was swift—father acknowledged, mother compliant. Oliver moved in. Margaret cared for him, though coolly. Stephen hoped time would soften things. A year passed.
Then, out of nowhere—
*”I’m filing for divorce,”* Margaret announced, back from a business trip. *”I’ve met someone. James. He’s relocating here. The house is yours. Fair’s fair.”*
*”James? Who the hell—”*
*”I meant what I said then. But love isn’t negotiable. Sorry.”*
She left. He tried rekindling things with Emily—she only laughed.
*”You got what you deserved, Chris. I’ve got my freedom. And a wedding soon.”*
Alone now, with a son he’d grown to love. No wife, no mistress—just the quiet certainty that justice, perhaps, had been served.
