**Diary Entry**
Its strange how life works, isnt it? After my wife and so-called friends betrayed me, I found myself back in my hometown, standing at my mothers grave, struck by the weight of it all.
James pulled the car to a stop. How many times had he meant to visit? But there was always somethingwork, obligations, excuses. When she was alive, hed been too busy. And after she was gone? Still absent. The guilt twisted inside him. It wouldnt have taken muchjust a shake, a wake-up callto realise the life hed built was hollow. Meaningless. In some twisted way, he was grateful to Emily, his ex-wife, for ripping off the blindfold.
Everything collapsed in an instant. The perfect marriage everyone envied? A lie. His closest friends? Complicit. Theyd known, all of them, and stayed silent. The divorce was final, and James left London for the quiet streets of York. Eight years since the funeral, and hed never once visited her grave. Only now did it hit himhis mother had been the only one whod never betray him.
Hed married late, at 33. Emily was 25, stunning, polished. Hed been proud to have her on his arm. Later, when she screamed that shed hated every moment with him, that intimacy had been torture, he realised how blind hed been. Her face, twisted with rage, was unrecognisable. And yet, hed almost believed her when she sobbed, begging for another chance, claiming loneliness.
But when he stood firm, Emily showed her true colours. James stepped out of the car, clutching a bouquet. The cemetery path was overgrownhe hadnt even been there when the headstone was placed. Hed handled it all online, distantly. Thats how life slipped by.
To his surprise, the grave was immaculatenot a weed in sight. Someone had cared for it. One of Mums old friends, perhaps. The ones whod bothered when her son hadnt. He unlatched the gate. “Hello, Mum,” he whispered. His throat tightened. Tears spilled.
Jamessuccessful businessman, the man who never criedwas sobbing like a child. And he didnt want to stop. It felt like a cleanse, washing away Emily and every failure. As if Mum were smoothing his hair, whispering, *”There, there. Itll be alright.”* He sat for hours, talking to her in his head. Remembering skinned knees, her dabbing antiseptic on the cuts. *”All my boys had scrapes. They heal.”* And they did. Each time, the pain lessened.
*”You get used to anythingexcept betrayal,”* she used to say. Now he understood. Back then, it was just words. Now, he saw her wisdom. Shed raised him alone, never coddled him, yet made him whole.
Time blurred. He felt peace for the first time in years. Hed stay in York a few days, sort out the house. He could afford to pay someone to maintain it, but how long would it sit empty? A smile flickered as he recalled meeting the neighbours daughter. When hed arranged for the house to be looked after, hed met Lucy. Hed been broken then, bitter. Shed been kind. Theyd talked one evening, and things happened. Hed left at dawn, a note about the keys slipped under her door.
To Lucy, he mightve seemed callous. But hed promised nothing. Shed come back to her mothers after leaving an abusive husband. Theyd both been hurting. That was all.
*”Mister, can you help me?”* A childs voice. He turned to see a girl, seven or eight, holding an empty bucket.
*”I need water for the flowers. Mum and I just planted them, but shes poorly today. Its so hottheyll wilt. The taps close, but the buckets too heavy. I dont want her to know I came alone.”*
James smiled. *”Of course. Show me.”*
Chattering nonstop, the girl led the way. Within minutes, he knew everythinghow shed warned her mum not to drink cold water in the heat, how her gran (whod died last year) wouldve scolded her mum for getting sick. Sophie was in Year 3, determined to get top marks.
His heart lightened. Children were so pure. Hed have given anything for a loving wife and a child like this. Emily had been a trophy, refusing even to discuss children. *”Only a fool ruins her figure for a screaming brat,”* shed sneered. Five years of marriage, and not one warm memory remained.
He set the bucket down, and Sophie watered the flowers. James glanced at the headstoneand froze. The photo was his neighbour, the one hed paid to watch the house. Lucys mother. He looked at the girl. *”Margaret was your gran?”*
*”Yes. Did you know her?”*
*”Waityou tend her grave?”*
*”Mum and I do. She doesnt like me coming alone.”*
*”Your mum?”* Jamess voice wavered.
*”Yes. I told youshes poorly.”* Sophie grabbed the bucket. *”Id better go. Shell ask questions, and Im rubbish at lying.”*
*”Let me drive you.”*
She shook her head. *”Stranger danger. And Mum would worry.”* With a wave, she dashed off.
James returned to his mothers grave, dazed. *This doesnt make sense. Lucy only came back temporarily. Now shes living here? With a daughter?* He hadnt known about Sophie. How old was she? Maybe Lucy had remarried.
Later, he drove to the house. His chest ached. Nothing had changedthe same roses by the gate, the same worn step. For a second, he expected Mum to burst out, wiping her hands on her apron, hugging him tight. He sat in the car a long time before going inside.
The house gleamed. Someone had been living here. *Good on you, Lucy.* Hed thank her properly.
He knocked next door. Sophie answered, grinning. *”Shh! Dont tell Mum about the cemetery!”*
Lucys voice came from inside. *”Come in. Im feeling better, but keep your distancejust in case.”*
Her eyes widened when she saw him. *”James?”*
*”Hi.”* He glanced around. *”Wheres your husband?”* He already knew the answer.
*”II didnt tell you when your mum passed. Jobs are scarce here. Ive been looking after the house myself.”*
*”Thank you. Its like she never left.”* He handed her an envelope. *”For everything. Consider it a bonus.”*
*”James, no”*
Sophie beamed. *”Thanks, Uncle James! Mum wants a new dress, and I want a bike.”*
He laughed. *”Atta girl.”* Just like him at that agenever one to refuse cash.
That evening, fever hit. He texted Lucy: *What do I take for a high temperature?* Ten minutes later, she and Sophie were at his door.
*”You idiot, whyd you come in? I got you sick!”*
*”Youre the one whos ill.”*
She handed him tablets; Sophie made tea. *”Shell burn herself,”* James muttered.
Lucy snorted. *”Her? Shes the capable one.”*
Something clicked in his mind. A childhood clarity. He sat up. *”Lucy.”*
She tensed. *”What?”*
*”When was Sophie born?”*
Lucy sank into a chair. *”Why does it matter?”*
*”Lucy.”*
She turned to Sophie. *”Love, pop to the shop. Get lemons and juice.”*
Once the door shut, Lucy spoke fast. *”James, listen. Sophies nothing to do with you. We dont need anything. Just forget it.”*
*”What? Are you serious? Why didnt you tell me?”*
*”I chose to keep her. You werent part of that decision. I never thought youd come back.”*
*”I hurt you.”*
She shrugged. *”I managed.”*
He was numb. All those years wasted on a fake life, while the real one was herewith Lucy and Sophie.
*”James?”* Lucys voice was small. *”What will you do? Please dont tell Sophie. Youll leave, and shell”*
*”No. I wont do that. I just need time.”*
That night, he dreamed of his mother. She was smiling, thrilled. *”I always wanted a granddaughter like Sophie.”*
Three days later, he left. *”Ill be back
