For three long hours, Emily and Daniel had been arguing. Daniel was leaning toward divorce—he had his reasons. Though they’d married eleven years ago, they’d never had children. Now, they were closer to splitting than ever. Daniel already knew there was no fixing things.
Emily had desperately wanted a child, but it never happened. Each time, she’d slowly uncurl her fingers from the white stick, staring at that tiny, mocking window with hope teetering on despair.
The doctor had told her, *”You must believe till the end.”* But she’d stopped believing.
Then, silence would stretch between them.
After seven years of marriage, Emily and Daniel fought constantly. Any tiny spark could ignite a storm, each hurling years of buried pain at the other before falling into heavy, exhausted quiet.
Divorce was inevitable.
Lately, they barely spoke, eyes avoiding each other as they moved like ghosts through their London flat. That was when Emily decided to cheat.
*”I can’t take this anymore, Anna,”* she confided to her friend. *”I don’t even want to look at him. He’s like a zombie—just sits there glued to his laptop. Is this what life’s supposed to be?”*
*”If I were you, I’d find someone else on the side. Maybe you’ll even get pregnant,”* Anna suggested breezily. *”New man, new luck, yeah?”*
*”Wait, does that actually happen?”* Emily frowned.
*”Who knows? Maybe,”* Anna shrugged. She had nothing to lose—she already had a daughter, though her own marriage had crumbled.
Emily stayed quiet, but the idea gnawed at her.
*”Why not? All Dan and I do is fight. If I asked for a divorce, he’d probably jump at it.”*
*”Right, listen—meet me at the pub tonight. I’m seeing Jake, and he’s bringing a friend. You need some colour in this dull life of yours.”*
That “colour” turned out to be Oliver. Emily never thought she’d cheat, angry as she was. But it happened so easily. Life suddenly felt brighter, lighter.
She came home late, slipping back into the flat like a ghost—until one night, Daniel snapped.
*”Emily, I’m leaving. Let’s end this quietly, like adults. We’ve got nothing to split—no kids, the flat’s yours.”* His voice was firm, final. She could tell he’d made up his mind long ago.
Truthfully, Daniel had been good for her financially. He earned well. Oliver, though charming, was always skint, spinning tales about some *”big deal”* just around the corner. He knew how to sweet-talk women, especially those who believed his boyish grin.
*”Wait, Dan—let’s talk about this,”* she stalled, suddenly unsure.
*”No. I don’t forgive cheating.”*
*”Cheating? Where’d you get that idea?”* She was certain he’d been oblivious, buried in his coding.
But Daniel knew. His mate Paul had spotted her—more than once—laughing too loudly with another man in a café. And the late returns home? Hard to miss.
*”Don’t bother lying. I know everything. Live how you want—Anna’ll keep you entertained.”*
Emily stared, stunned.
*”I’m done.”* He grabbed the suitcase he’d packed the night she vanished, dropped the keys on the sideboard, and left.
Tossing his bag into the boot, he sped off.
**To the Country, With a Stowaway**
*”It just didn’t work. That’s life. I’ll get over it,”* Daniel muttered, eyes fixed on the road. *”Fix up the cottage. Fish, maybe get chickens. Thirty-three—Christ’s age. Not bad.”* He smirked. *”At least remote work’s sorted.”*
The drive to Somerset took two hours. His stomach growled as he veered onto a dirt road, pulling up by a village shop.
Outside, two cats watched him intently.
*”Hungry, eh?”*
Inside, he grabbed hot pasties, sausages, and juice. Back outside, he tore the sausages into chunks for the cats—then noticed a tiny tabby, frozen in place.
*”What’s wrong with you?”* Daniel crouched. The kitten’s green eyes were huge, pleading.
Then he saw it—some monster had tied its hind legs together with fishing line.
*”Bloody hell.”* He freed the kitten, bundled it into the car. It wolfed down a scrap of pasty, then curled into a ball on the passenger seat, purring.
*”Alright, Stripes. You’re mine now.”*
Daniel grinned. *”A house isn’t a home without a cat.”*
Deep down, he knew this kitten was fate.
**A Year Later**
Stripes had grown into a regal tom, shadowing Daniel everywhere. The cottage was thriving—chickens clucked in the yard, vegetables sprouted in the garden.
Then, one winter morning, Daniel spotted a woman skiing toward him, a green bobble hat bouncing between the trees.
*”Sasha? Bloody hell!”*
She laughed. *”Daniel! Knew it was you!”*
They chatted like no time had passed. She’d returned to care for her ailing mum, working remotely as a graphic designer.
That evening, over tea, they pored over school photos, laughing until Stripes blinked at them, bemused.
*”Your place is cosy,”* Sasha murmured. *”Needs a painting above the sofa. I’ll do one.”*
From then on, they were inseparable—skiing, shopping in town, tending to her mum.
When Sasha’s mother passed, Daniel handled everything. *”You’ll get through this,”* he promised. *”Stay. With me.”*
Four months later, he proposed.
*”Before I lose you again.”*
She smiled. *”Yes. Just not yet.”*
**Now**
Daniel kept bees now, selling honey and mead from their little tea shed. Business boomed.
Stripes, dignified as ever, patrolled the cottage. He knew he’d brought luck.
Three-year-old Nico adored him.
And soon, maybe, a little sister.
