**A Real Man**
Grace and Henry had been together for two years. Grace’s mum had already started worrying that her daughter was wasting her time with him—marriage never seemed to be on the horizon. Henry always insisted there was no rush—they had all the time in the world, and things were fine as they were.
Summer faded, leaves dropped from the trees, painting the pavements in gold, and then came the relentless autumn rains. On one particularly damp and miserable October day, Henry clumsily proposed, presenting Grace with a modest little ring.
She flung her arms around his neck and whispered, “Yes,” then slid the ring onto her finger and squealed, “Yes!”—jumping up and down, arms stretched skyward in sheer delight.
The next day, they went to the registry office, nerves jangling, and handed in their notice. They set the wedding for mid-December.
Grace had dreamed of a summer wedding—everyone admiring her in a white dress under the sun. But she didn’t argue. What if Henry postponed it again? What if he changed his mind entirely? She loved him too much to risk losing him.
Their wedding day arrived with a full-blown blizzard. The wind wrecked her carefully styled hair, and the billowing hem of her dress ballooned like a bell, threatening to carry her off. Henry scooped his radiant bride up on the doorstep and carried her to the car. No storm or tousled curls could dampen their joy.
At first, Grace basked in love and contentment. Surely it would always be like this. Oh, they bickered now and then, but they always made up by nightfall, falling deeper in love.
A year later, their little family grew with the arrival of Daniel.
The boy was calm, bright—a delight to both parents. Like most men, Henry didn’t help much with nappies or bedtime. He was nervous holding the baby, and whenever he tried, Daniel would wail until Grace swooped in to rescue him.
“You’re better with him. When he’s older, I’ll kick a football about with him. Right now, I’ll focus on providing,” Henry assured her—though his salary barely covered essentials.
Daniel grew, started nursery, and Grace returned to work. Money stayed tight. Saving for a mortgage deposit felt impossible. The bickering turned into full-blown rows, each accusing the other of overspending. Making up wasn’t as easy as it used to be.
“I’ve had enough. I work my arse off, and it’s still never enough. Do you eat the stuff?” Henry snapped one evening.
“Oh, look who’s talking,” Grace shot back, eyeing his beer belly.
“Not fond of my stomach? You’ve changed too. I married a butterfly, and now you’re more of a caterpillar.”
And so it escalated. Grace wiped away furious tears as she fetched Daniel from nursery. Listening to his innocent chatter on the walk home, she realised she couldn’t lose Henry. She’d hug him, kiss him, say sorry—and he’d kiss her back, and everything would be fine again. Lovebirds fight, but it’s just a bit of fun. Cheered, she urged little Daniel to hurry up.
But the flat was dark and silent. Henry’s coat and shoes were gone. “He’ll cool off and come back,” Grace thought, frying up his favourite—potatoes with bacon.
Henry never returned. No calls, no texts. The next morning, exhausted from sleepless dread, Grace dropped Daniel at nursery and dragged herself to work. At lunch, she faked illness to leave early—but instead of home, she went to Henry’s office.
She rehearsed her speech outside his door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
Henry was there, his back to her—locked in a kiss with another woman. Her manicured hands, splayed across his jacket, looked like pale maple leaves against the dark fabric.
The woman’s eyes fluttered open, spotting Grace—but instead of recoiling, she tightened her grip.
Grace fled, blind with tears, stumbling into strangers until her feet carried her to her mum’s doorstep.
“Mum, why would he do this? Are all men like this?” Grace sobbed.
“Like what?”
“Cheaters. Was it happening all along? It can’t just… happen like this!”
“I don’t know, love. When you’re in love, one man is your whole world. So when he betrays you, it feels like the whole world’s betrayed you. He’ll come back.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Grace’s voice cracked.
“Time will dull the pain. You’ve got Daniel. Think of him. And if Henry doesn’t return—maybe that’s for the best. You’re young, you’ll find happiness again.”
“You never did.”
“How d’you know? I was just afraid—what if another man did the same? And you were grown—I worried for you. But you’ve got a son. He needs a father…”
Slightly calmer, Grace collected Daniel.
“Mum, play with me?” he begged at home.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped.
“I don’t like it when you talk like that,” he whispered, backing off.
Henry returned as Grace was putting Daniel to bed. He pulled out a suitcase and started packing.
“Where are you going?” she asked, though she knew.
“I’m done. The fighting, this shoebox flat, the sight of you—I’ve had enough.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“What about us?”
“You wanted marriage, a kid. Now live with it.” The suitcase zipped shut. His gaze flicked to Daniel’s wide eyes—then he strode out. The door slammed.
Grace crumpled onto the sofa, weeping until a small hand touched her shoulder. She jerked up, hoping—but it was Daniel in his pyjamas.
“Don’t cry, Mum. I’ll never leave you like Dad did,” he said, patting her arm.
She hugged him, sobbing harder, then carried him to bed and lay beside him.
Henry never came back. Filed for divorce.
Daniel asked about his father once—got a sharp reply and never asked again. Life slowly settled. When Daniel started school, Grace met Oliver. Younger than her, he bonded instantly with Daniel.
He proposed more than once, but Grace hesitated. He’d want his own child—would Daniel resent it? And the age gap… What if Oliver left her for someone younger?
One day, cleaning while Oliver played outside with Daniel, the door burst open—Oliver carried Daniel in, blood streaking his face. A bad fall from the slide, stitches needed.
Grace knew Oliver wasn’t to blame—Daniel was always falling. But the thought nagged: *If he were Oliver’s own, this wouldn’t have happened.*
Soon, the relationship fizzled out.
“Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll never leave you,” Daniel repeated.
Grace brought no one home after that.
Daniel grew—first a handsome teen, then a man before she knew it. She was proud but anxious. Girls adored him. Once he married, she’d be truly alone.
“That’s motherhood. Raise them, let them go. You’ll get used to it. Grandkids’ll keep you busy,” her wise mum soothed.
*Mum’s right. She’s getting older—needs me more. I’ll move in with her. Daniel can have this flat.* But a year later, her mum passed, leaving her flat to Daniel.
Then, out of nowhere, Henry reappeared—worn, unkempt. He whined that women flocked to him in his prime, but illness left him abandoned. Asked after his ex-mother-in-law. Hearing she’d died, he cursed fate—for losing his wife, his son, through sheer stupidity. Hinted he hadn’t long left. The only woman he’d ever loved was Grace.
“Mum, who’s here?” Daniel called, spotting a duffel bag in the hall. He strode into the kitchen—and froze.
A man rose from the table.
“Hello, son. You’ve grown.”
Daniel’s smile vanished.
“Son? I’m *yours*?”
“Daniel,” Grace warned from the window.
“Sorry, Mum, but I don’t know him. First, I waited for you to fetch me from nursery. Then birthdays, *anything*. Not once did you ask, ‘How’s school? How’ve you grown?’ But I waited—just hid it from Mum.”
Henry’s head drooped lower.
“Where were you? Off with your mistress? Got her pregnant, made her abort it? Then onto the next?”
“Daniel, how—”
“I tracked you down. Wanted to know why you left. Fell out of love with Mum—fine. But what did I do? Why’d you abandon *me*?” His glare shifted between them. “Why crawl back now? Another woman kicked you out? Or did you hear about Nan’s flat?”
“Daniel, stop! He’s your father,” Grace scolded.
“No. He helped make me. *You* raised me.”
“*This* how you raised him? Poisoned him against**A Real Man (Continued)**
Henry opened his mouth to argue, but Daniel simply turned away, took his mother’s hand, and led her out of the room, leaving his father standing alone in the silence of his own regrets.
