**No Divorce**
By fifty, James Whitmore had barely a streak of grey, but a restless devil had taken root in his ribs—and it was all because of her: Emily. He met her by chance when he stopped by the university department where his old friend taught. The question he had was trivial, but the consequences were anything but.
She stood by the window, sunlight dancing in her golden hair. Bright green eyes, a slender figure brimming with life and defiance… He was no boy, yet in that moment, he felt young again. Emily seemed to him the embodiment of every dream—a fairy, a siren, a nymph. In truth, she was just a pretty student, but James wouldn’t realise that until much later. In that instant, he was enchanted.
He had never felt such passion, not even for his wife, Margaret, in their earliest years. Behind them lay thirty years of marriage, two grown children, a shared past, a home, mutual understanding, and rare arguments. And yet, all of it vanished from his mind the moment he laid eyes on Emily.
She didn’t resist the attentions of her distinguished admirer—if anything, she encouraged them. To her, he was an opportunity. Raised in modest circumstances, barely scraping into university, she dreamed of staying in the big city. James was her ticket.
*“He’s ancient!”* Her flatmate, Lucy, groaned. *“Are you mad? Could you actually live with him?”*
*“Hardly ancient,”* Emily scoffed. *“He’s fit, well-off, head over heels for me. Give it time—he’ll propose.”*
James was truly in love. He was tender, generous, attentive. But not once—not a single word—did he mention divorce. Emily waited, hoped. Her plan was simple: James’ children were long gone, his wife was healthy, their life peaceful. And he had money. Everything pointed to marriage. But then, James began to tire. The relentless pace of a young lover proved too much for a man his age. He would have preferred seeing her once a week, discreetly, in a hotel—not the dizzying intensity she demanded. What he craved was home, where comfort, Sunday roasts, and his dependable Margaret waited.
Emily started making demands.
*“Why can’t we move in together? You’ve got that second flat!”*
*“Tenants,”* he lied. Truthfully, the place was empty—he and Margaret had been planning renovations. But turning it into a love nest was out of the question.
*“Then rent another! Be a man!”*
The rows grew more frequent. Then—the bombshell.
*“I’m pregnant, Alex,”* Emily said (yes, that’s what she called him). *“Aren’t you happy?”*
James froze. He had returned early from his business trip to end things. And now—a child.
*“But you said you were on the pill.”*
*“Nothing’s foolproof! I thought you’d be thrilled.”*
He wasn’t thrilled. He was lost. But he stayed. A boy, Oliver, was born. James helped—with money, visits, attention. But Emily wanted more.
*“I’m sick of being hidden! Either you tell your wife, or I will!”*
Before he could react, she took matters into her own hands. Days later, Margaret confronted him:
*“So, you have a child and plans to remarry? Is it true?”*
*“Maggie, it’s not like that… Let me explain—”*
*“I’ll say this now: I won’t grant a divorce.”* Her voice was calm but firm. *“I didn’t build this family for thirty years just to step aside for some student.”*
Relief washed over him—not because he’d escaped separation, but because she still wanted to stay.
*“I love you, Maggie. Forgive me. It was madness—I don’t know what came over me.”*
*“But the child isn’t to blame,”* she added. *“We’ll take him. And you cut ties with her—for good. Then I’ll forgive you. Properly.”*
James could hardly believe his ears. But Margaret, ever pragmatic, had thought it through. Exhausted by motherhood, with no support, Emily eagerly handed Oliver over when James proposed:
*“I want him with us. You can go back to your studies, your life. We’ll manage.”*
*“Fine,”* she replied flatly. *“Just don’t come crawling back later.”*
Custody was settled quickly—father acknowledged, mother unresisting. Oliver moved in. Margaret cared for him, though coolly. James hoped time would soften her. A year passed.
Then—a bolt from the blue.
*“I’m filing for divorce,”* Margaret announced upon returning from a trip. *“I’ve met someone else. And I’ve realised I’m only happy with him.”*
*“Someone else? Who?”*
*“Edward. He lives out of town but is moving here. You keep the flat—fair’s fair.”*
*“But you said—”*
*“I meant it then. But you can’t command the heart. I’m sorry.”*
She left. Leaving him with Oliver and the past. He tried to win Emily back, but she only laughed:
*“You got what you deserved, Alex. And I got my freedom. Live with it. I’m getting married soon.”*
Now he was alone. With a son he’d grown to love. Without a wife, without a lover, but with the quiet sense that perhaps—this was justice.
