No Divorce
By the time he reached fifty, William Whitmore had scarcely a grey hair, but a devil had taken up residence in his ribs—all because of her: Emily. He met her by chance when he stopped by the university department where an old friend of his lectured. A trivial errand, yet it altered the course of his life.
She stood by the window, sunlight catching in her golden hair. Bright green eyes, a slender frame humming with vitality and defiance… William, a man long past his youth, felt suddenly boyish again. To him, Emily was the stuff of dreams—a fairy, a siren, a nymph. In truth, she was merely a pretty student, but that realisation came much later. That day, he was spellbound.
He had never felt such passion, not even for his wife, Margaret, in their earliest years. Behind them lay thirty years of marriage, two grown children, shared history, a home, quiet understanding, and rare quarrels. Yet all of it seemed to vanish the moment he laid eyes on Emily.
She, for her part, did not resist the attentions of her mature suitor. Quite the opposite—she encouraged them. To her, he was an opportunity. Raised in modest circumstances, lucky to attend university at all, she dreamed of staying in the city. William was her ticket.
“He’s ancient!” her flatmate Lucy protested. “Have you lost your mind? Could you even live with him?”
“Hardly ancient,” Emily scoffed. “Vigorous, well-off, head over heels. Watch—he’ll propose soon.”
William fell genuinely in love. He was tender, generous, attentive. Yet never—not once—did he mention divorce. Emily waited, hopeful. Her plans were simple: his children were grown, his wife healthy, their life settled. And he had money. A wedding seemed inevitable. But then, William began to tire. The pace of a young mistress, it turned out, was too much for a man of his years. He preferred meeting once a week, discreetly at a hotel, then returning home to comfort, shepherd’s pie, and Margaret.
Emily grew impatient.
“Why can’t we move in together? You have that second flat!”
“Tenants,” he lied. In truth, the flat stood empty; he and Margaret had planned to renovate it. But turning it into a love nest was never his intention.
“Then rent another! You’re a man, aren’t you?”
Arguments became frequent. Then—the blow.
“I’m pregnant, George,” Emily said (yes, that was what she called him). “Aren’t you happy?”
William froze. He had meant to end things—even cut short a business trip to do so. Now this—a child.
“But you said you were careful…”
“Nothing’s foolproof! I thought you’d be pleased…”
He wasn’t pleased. He was stunned. But he stayed. The child was born—a boy, Thomas. William helped: with money, visits, attention. Emily wanted more.
“I’m tired of hiding! Either you tell your wife, or I will!”
Before he could decide, Emily took matters into her own hands. Days later, Margaret confronted him:
“So you have a child, and you’re planning to marry her? Is it true?”
“Margaret, it’s not like that… Let me explain…”
“I’ll say this now: I won’t grant a divorce,” she said calmly but firmly. “I didn’t build this life for thirty years to lose it over some student.”
William felt relief. Not because he avoided separation, but because he heard—she still wanted their family.
“I love you, Maggie. Forgive me. It was madness, I don’t know what came over me…”
“But the boy—he’s innocent,” she added. “We’ll take him. And you’ll end things with her—for good. Then I’ll forgive you. Truly.”
William couldn’t believe his ears. But his wife, ever practical, had it all planned. Exhausted by motherhood, unsupported, Emily gladly handed over their son when he offered:
“I want Thomas to live with us. You can return to your studies, your life. We’ll manage.”
“Fine,” she replied indifferently. “Just don’t come complaining later.”
Custody was settled quickly—father acknowledged, mother uncontesting. Thomas moved in. Margaret cared for him, though coolly. William hoped time would soften her. A year passed.
Then—a bolt from the blue.
“I’m filing for divorce,” Margaret announced, returning from a business trip. “I’ve met someone else. And I’ve realised I’m only happy with him.”
“Someone else? Who?”
“Edward. He lives in another city, but he’s moving here. You keep the flat. It’s fair.”
“But you said…”
“Then I meant it. But love isn’t commanded. Forgive me.”
She left. Leaving him Thomas, and the past. He tried to win Emily back, but she only laughed:
“You got what you wanted, Georgie. And I got my freedom. Live as you please now. I’m getting married soon.”
He was alone. With a son he’d grown to love. Without a wife, without a mistress, but with a quiet sense that perhaps—this was justice.
