**Diary Entry**
Every day, people pass by each other without a second glance, no spark, no reaction. But then, one day, she catches his eye, and suddenly her heart races, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He feels it too. And that’s it—after that, they can’t imagine being apart. Life loses meaning without the other. Fate takes over, and they walk through life together.
That’s how Lucy fell in love with Edward. One frosty Sunday, she went skating with her friends. She was terrible on the ice, creeping along cautiously, stopping often. Her friends, impatient, left her behind, soaring ahead effortlessly while Lucy became an obstacle for the confident skaters weaving around her.
Exhausted, her legs aching, she decided to shuffle toward the barrier to wait. Just two metres from safety, someone crashed into her. She lost her balance, slamming onto the ice, pain shooting through her hip and knee.
“Sorry—are you hurt? Can you get up? Let me help.” A voice above her, then strong hands lifting her effortlessly. The moment her skates touched the ice again, her knee flared with pain. She gasped, nearly falling back if not for his quick reflexes. He steadied her, pulling her close. Their eyes met, inches apart, and for a heartbeat, the world vanished.
“Alright?” he asked.
Reality rushed back—the scrape of blades, laughter, voices. But Lucy still clung to his coat sleeves.
“Will you fall if I let go?” he teased.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, staring.
He released her, and she stayed upright.
“Good. Now, let’s get to the barrier. I’ve got you.”
With him guiding her, she glided instead of stumbled.
“Maybe we should leave. There are benches by the exit.”
She nodded. Once seated, he asked, “Hurt much? Are you alone? Need me to take you home?”
“I’m with friends.”
“Call them. Here, give me your ticket—I’ll grab your shoes.”
“It’s fine, I’ll wait.”
“You’ll freeze.”
The chill seeped through her coat, so she handed over the ticket and called her friends while he fetched her boots.
Walking home, Lucy held his arm. After the slippery ice, solid pavement was a relief, but her head spun—or maybe it was the ground tilting. His name was Edward—older, already working while she was in her fourth year at uni. They talked easily, an instant connection. When he asked her skating again next weekend, she shook her head.
“Better yet—the cinema.”
“Deal. I’ll call.”
He didn’t wait. Phoned the next day, took her to a café instead. Some force—quite literally—had thrown them together, and after that, they were inseparable.
Lucy fell hard. How had she lived before him? It felt like they’d always known each other. Spring came, and Edward’s parents began weekend trips to their cottage, leaving the flat to them.
Summer raced by. Then autumn, with its rain and frost. His parents stopped going away, leaving them nowhere to meet.
“What now?” Lucy murmured against his shoulder.
“I’ll figure something out,” he promised.
One evening, Edward visited, and Lucy’s mum confronted him: “How long will you string my daughter along?”
“I planned to propose at New Year’s. Haven’t even got the ring yet. But if it’ll ease your mind—I’ll ask for her hand right now,” Edward said.
Lucy flushed with joy.
“Much better. Give the ring at New Year’s,” her mum said, satisfied. “Living together without a word—I didn’t know what to think.”
They married in spring, snow melting, birds singing. Edward had saved for a flat, wedding gifts covering the deposit. Happy newlyweds, they bought their home, agreeing to wait for children.
Years passed. Lucy graduated, started working. She brought up kids more often.
“The mortgage isn’t paid. Why rush?” Edward argued. “We’ll manage, but why create hardships now? Once we’re debt-free, we’ll talk children. Right?”
Logically, yes—but pregnancy took nine months. By then, they’d have paid it off…
“Enough. No arguing,” he cut her off.
Hard to fight him. But her friends pushed prams; one had a second baby, though Lucy had married first. One day, she tried again.
“Fine, have a baby if you must,” Edward relented. “But don’t ask for my help—nappies, night feeds. I earn the money; you handle the child. Don’t complain later. Agreed?”
She nearly snapped back but swallowed it.
“You’re scared I’ll love the baby more than you,” she guessed.
“Drop it. Have it if you want.”
She stopped her pills. Two months later, two pink lines.
Edward didn’t share her joy. Then came morning sickness. He went out with mates; a wall rose between them. He never touched her bump, barely acknowledged it. “When the baby’s here, he’ll change,” she told herself.
But after Sophie was born, nothing changed. He recoiled at her cries, transferred money wordlessly for nappies or clothes.
“Spare me the details,” he’d say.
Once, he frowned at her stained dressing gown. “You used to be so different.”
Next day, she dressed nicely—jeans, a bit of makeup. He didn’t notice.
Sophie grew, toddling, babbling. She’d run to him—”Go to Mum,” he’d push her away. Lucy’s heart broke.
“At least show her affection! She’s your daughter!”
“I never asked for her. Don’t expect love.”
She bit her tongue, honouring his condition: no involvement. His only concern? Her taking contraception.
Friends envied her—sober husband, nice home. “Men rarely help with kids,” they said.
When Sophie started nursery, Lucy planned to work.
“Stay home. I earn enough,” Edward said. “I want dinner ready, house tidy.”
Arguing was futile. Then Sophie caught every bug at nursery.
One day, shopping alone, Lucy saw Edward with another woman leaving a café. That night, she confronted him.
No denials. “I provide for you both. I’m entitled to harmless fun.”
She’d had enough. “I won’t tolerate this. I’m leaving for Mum’s.”
“How will you live? You’re used to comfort. Think carefully.” He turned to the news.
“I have.”
Next day, she packed, called a taxi.
“Want Daddy!” Sophie wailed in the unfamiliar flat.
Even Mum urged her to return. Edward sent money but avoided Sophie.
“Why doesn’t he love her? Is she not his?” Mum pressed.
“Don’t be absurd! He never wanted her. I had Sophie for myself—while he was out with others!” Lucy sobbed.
They stayed at Mum’s. Sophie switched schools, grew more like Edward—stubborn, defiant. Threats to run to Dad increased.
“You treat me like a baby! Dad never nagged!”
Strange—he’d ignored her, yet she idolised him.
“You think he’s so perfect? Fine. Go,” Lucy snapped, instantly regretting it.
“I will!”
Pleading changed nothing. Next day, Sophie vanished after school. Her friend said Dad had picked her up.
Lucy called Edward.
“Yes, she asked to stay. What kind of mother drives her child away?”
“I’m coming for her.”
“She refuses. She’s happy here,” he said coolly.
“What about school?”
“Jasmine will drive her.”
Jasmine—his new woman. Prepared for everything.
“How, Mum?” Lucy wept. “I raised her, loved her—he did nothing! Now I’m the villain? She’d live with a stranger rather than me! Why?”
“Wait. She’ll come back,” Mum soothed.
Lucy called daily. “Are they kind to you? School alright?”
“Jasmine’s cool! Says I’ll switch schools. She buys me stuff. Stop calling!” Click.
Lucy agonised. Fetch her by force? But Sophie had chosen this. Edward was her father…
Mum was right—wait. Sophie was ten. She’d see who truly loved her. Maybe Jasmine’s kindness was a ploy to make Lucy look bad. Why?
Then it hit her. Edward wouldn’t let Jasmine have kids, just like he’d denied Lucy. So Jasmine took Sophie instead. What if they kept her?
Weeks passed. Then Mum called: “She’s back. Crying. Come quick.”
Lucy rushed home.
“What happened? Did they hurt you?”
“Mummy, sorry!” Sophie clung to her. “Jasmine brought me. Said they’re going to Spain—can’t take me. Said they’ll have their own baby soon. Nobody loves me…”
“Darling, I do! I’ve missed you so much!” Lucy held her, promising trips—not Spain, but Turkey, maybe Egypt.
“Daddy barely spoke**Diary Entry**
She wiped Sophie’s tears, whispering, “One day you’ll see—love isn’t bought with gifts or empty promises, but with time, patience, and a heart that stays.”
