**Diary Entry**
Ive made up my mind: is this lost love or just temporary hardship? Emily couldnt take it anymore. She didnt understand why James had become so distanthad he stopped loving her? Last night, he came home late again and slept on the sofa.
This morning, over breakfast, she sat across from him.
“James, can you tell me whats going on?”
“Whats wrong?”
He sipped his tea, avoiding her gaze.
“Youve changed since the twins were born.”
“Hadnt noticed.”
“James, weve been living like strangers for two years. Havent you realised?”
“Listen, what do you want? The house is a mess, it smells like baby formula, the kids are screaming Do you think anyone enjoys this?”
“James, theyre *your* children!”
He stood abruptly, pacing the kitchen.
“Normal wives have *one* child who plays quietly in a corner. But you had two at once! My mum warned mewomen like you only know how to breed.”
“Women like me? Whats that supposed to mean?”
“Women with no purpose in life.”
“You *made* me drop out of uni because you wanted me to dedicate myself to the family!”
Emily sank into her chair. After a moment, she added quietly, “I think we should separate.”
He barely hesitated. “Fine by me. Just dont come begging for alimony. Ill give you money myself.”
With that, he turned and walked out. She wanted to cry, but the twins room erupted in noisethey were awake and needed her.
A week later, she packed her things, took the boys, and moved into a tiny flat shed inherited from her grandmother.
New neighbours meant introductions. On one side lived Victor, a gruff man not yet old. On the other, Margaret, a lively woman in her sixties. Emily knocked on Victors door first.
“Hello! Im your new neighbour. Bought a cakefancy joining me for tea?”
She forced a smile. He eyed her, then muttered, “Dont eat sweets,” and shut the door in her face.
Shrugging, she tried Margaret, who agreedbut only to lecture her.
“I nap during the day because I watch telly at night. Keep your boys quiet, will you? No running in the corridor, no touching my things!”
Emily listened, heart sinking. This wasnt the fresh start shed hoped for.
She enrolled the twins in nursery and got a job there as an assistantconvenient, since her hours matched theirs. The pay was meagre, but James had promised to help.
For the first three months post-divorce, he *did* send money sporadically. Then, nothing. Soon, she fell behind on bills.
Margaret grew nastier. One evening, as Emily fed the boys pasta, Margaret swept in, silk robe swishing.
“Dear, *have* you sorted your finances? Id hate to lose power because of you.”
Emily sighed. “Not yet. Ill see James tomorrowseems hes forgotten his children.”
Margaret leaned over the table. “Still feeding them *pasta*? Youre a terrible mother.”
“I *am* a good mother! And youd do well to keep your nose out!”
Margaret shrieked loud enough to wake the dead. Victor emerged, waited for her tirade to end, then tossed cash onto the table.
“Shut it. Theres for the bills.”
Margaret fell silent. But as Victor left, she hissed, “Youll regret this.”
Emily ignored hera mistake. The next day, James dismissed her pleas.
“Times are tough. Cant spare a penny.”
“James, the boys need *food*!”
“Feed them thenIm not stopping you.”
“Ill file for child support.”
“Go ahead. My official salarys peanutsyoull get scraps. And dont bother me again!”
She returned home in tears. Payday was days away, and she had nothing left. Then, another blow: a social worker at her door. Margaret had reported her for neglect.
After an hour of questioning, the woman said, “I must refer this to child services.”
“Waitfor *what*? Ive done nothing wrong!”
“Rules are rules. A complaint means action.”
That evening, Margaret returned, smug.
“If those brats disturb me again, Ill call child services *directly*.”
“Whats *wrong* with you? Theyre *children*!”
“Feed them properly, and theyd sleep instead of rampaging!”
The twins huddled, frightened. Emily wiped her tears. “Eat up, loves. Aunties just joking.”
Then Victor walked in, carrying groceries. Without a word, he filled her fridge and left.
On payday, she knocked on his door. He opened it, grim as ever.
“Victor, I owe you for the food. Heres £50Ill pay the rest later.”
“Piss off. You owe me nothing.”
The door slammed. Before she could react, Margarets screech echoed. The boys stood frozen as she pointed at a spilled teacup.
“Vermin! Raised by wolves!”
Emily sent them to their room, cleaned up, then sat, hollow. She didnt know how to go on.
The boys clung to her. “Dont be sad, Mummy. Well be good.”
She hugged them. “Just hang on. Ill figure something out.”
Three days later, child services took them.
Emily fought, screamed, but they pried her hands away. The twins cries haunted her as the car drove off. She collapsed, howling.
Then she saw the axegranddads old tool, never thrown out. She smiled coldly, picked it up, and marched to Margarets door.
The wood splintered. Margaret cowered under the bed. Then Victor grabbed her, wrenching the axe away.
“You idiot! Who are you helping?”
“Doesnt matter now,” she whispered.
He dragged her to his flat, forced a sedative down her throat. Darkness swallowed her.
When she woke, Victor was gone. She found him with Margaret, who trembled over valerian tea.
“Happy now?” he growled.
“Victor, I never thought”
“Undo this by tomorrow, or I wont stop her next time.”
For a month, Emily gathered references, took drug tests. Victor pushed her forward when she faltered.
The night before the hearing, she lay awake on his sofa.
“Victor tell me about your children.”
Silence. Then, flatly: “Had a family. Wife, two boys. Drank too much, shouted. One day, they left. Went to her parents cottage. I followed too late. Electrical fire. All gone.”
She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.
“Sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
The verdict came swiftly. The social worker smiled.
“Take your boys home.”
Legs buckling, she clung to Victor as the twins barrelled into her. Even he turned away, wiping his eyes.
Life settled. Margaret stayed hidden. Emily got a factory job, thanks to Victor. Money was tight but enough.
Yet Victor grew quieter. One day, she found his phoneher photo on the lock screen.
That night, she sat beside him.
“Victor if you cant say it, I will. Marry me?”
He cupped her face. “Im rubbish with words. Just know Id do anything for you and those boys.”
