12October2025 Diary
Im not one for spilling thoughts onto paper, but after today I feel I must. Emily turned me down when I begged for another chance, and that sting still lingers.
Alright, Im at fault, I said, my voice flat. But I tried to finish, but the words fell away.
Just what, love? she asked, trying to keep the conversation gentle.
Just that sometimes a person cant control how they feel. Its like breathingyou cant simply stop, I blurted out.
Yes, exactly, she replied, her tone colder than Id ever heard it. I cant
***
It all started three weeks ago. I suddenly began buying new shirtsbright, pricey, the sort youd see on a cityslicker in Manchester, not the faded tees Id worn for years. I signed up at a local gym, even though my greatest physical exertion up until then was sprinting from the sofa to the kitchen. Most oddly, my jealousy vanished.
Before, if I lingered at work a halfhour longer, Emilys voice would buzz my phone: Where are you? Who are you with? When will you be back? Now there was nothingno frantic texts, just silence.
One night I came home from a corporate event at midnight. She barely muttered something incoherent and turned toward the wall. I thought, finally shes matured, shedding that possessive boyishness. I bragged to a friend over tea:
Can you imagine? Emilys changed! At fortythree shes finally thinking about her health and shes stopped being so jealous. She trusts, so I must be doing something right.
She gave me a strange look then fell silent. I should have pressed for a real conversation then; perhaps Id have understood sooner.
I tried to stay optimistic, convincing myself it was a midlife crisis, a yearning to feel young again. I even found it endearing when she started doing planks and pushups each morning.
The turning point came when I found a receipt tucked into the pocket of my jacket. A café receipt for two cappuccinos and two cheesecakes, dated Tuesday, 3p.m.
Tuesday I thought. Thats the day she told me shed be in meetings all day, barely even having time for lunch
My heart tightened, but I told myself it could be a colleague, a business partnernothing unusual.
Later, more receipts appeared: another café slip, a business card from a highstreet hair salon Id never visited before, and a lingering scent of perfume on the jacket. Men can be odd, I thought; do they really believe their wives, after years together, wont notice anothers fragrance?
Just a new client, I tried to convince myself later, recalling how Id once boasted about a woman whod built a perfume boutique from scratch and gifted me a sample. I wanted to believe because Id been married eighteen years. Wed bought a house, a cottage, raised a daughter whos now at university in Birmingham. My motherinlaw, before she passed, had blessed our union, saying Id made her son happy.
Happy
Then the call came on a Saturday morning. I was in the shower, my phone on the nightstand, the screen flashing Molly P.
Mollymy first love. The girl from my teenage years when I still believed in forever. It had been twenty years since she walked out, choosing someone else, disappearing from my life. Id naively thought that chapter was closed.
I didnt answer. I just watched the screen blink, the line ringing seven times, then a text: Ill be waiting at the same spot. Everything fell into placethe new shirts, the gym, the perfume, the café at three.
Shes back, isnt she? I asked Emily, surprised at the calm in my voice. Molly returned?
She flinched.
Her face looked as if shed been caught redhanded, though there was nothing to catch. Iralisten if you think she began.
Think what? I smirked. What am I thinking? That my husbands ex is calling? That hes buying new shirts and hitting the gym? That hes sipping coffee at a café while supposedly in meetings?
We just met by accident shes divorced, moved back here. We just talked she tried to explain.
Andrew, I cut her off, dont. Were adults. Be honestdo you still love her?
She fell silent. The seconds stretched, and in that silence I heard everything I needed.
I tried, he finally exhaled. I swear, I tried. I thought it would pass. I thought Id fall back in love with you. Youre proper, good and she
And shes the love of your life, the first and only, I finished for him. Im just the spare tire, the consolation prize, you see?
He said nothing.
So, I said, lets just get a divorce then.
He shivered again.
Wait, Iris, dont rush maybe we could try he pleaded.
Try what? Pretend nothing happened? Pretend you dont see her when youre in bed with me? No thank you. Go to her.
He gave me a long, bewildered look. Perhaps he truly didnt recognise me anymore. Id always been the compliant, easygoing wife, never causing a scene. My motherinlaw used to call me the golden wife.
Sure, that sounded nice, but what he wanted wasnt gold; it was that first love that drove him mad.
Thank you, he whispered suddenly. Thank you for understanding.
We signed the papers swiftly, no shouting. We left the house to our daughter, who was about to get married. I moved back into my mothers modest twobed flat; he moved in with Molly.
Three months have passed. Im pulling myself together: a new job, a hobby of watercolor painting, evenings at the theatre with a friend. Then his call came out of the blue.
Hey, Iris his voice sounded lost. Can I come over? I need to talk.
I agreed. Twenty minutes later he stood at my doorstep, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in hand.
Ive made a fool of myself, he said, handing them over. Ive fully messed up. Im sorry. I now see she isnt who I remembered, or perhaps Im no longer the man I was. Were strangers now. And you
What about me? I asked, a small smile playing on my lips.
Honestly, I miss you. I miss your calm, your care, the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you make coffee in the mornings
Andrew, I interrupted, are you losing it?
Iris! he begged. Give me another chance! Ive realised youre my true happiness, not a ghost from the past!
I looked at him and thought how easy it would be to say yes, to let him back in, to pretend nothing ever happened, to return to the life wed known.
But I no longer want to be a consolation prize, a fallback when everything else falls apart. I dont want to lie awake wondering if another phantom from my past will call, reminding me of who I was at twenty.
No, Andrew, I said quietly. Im sorry, but no. You chose your path back then, and I choose mine now.
Lesson learned:When you chase a memory that never truly existed, you lose the present you could have built. Respecting yourself means walking away from the shadows of what once was.
