**Diary Entry – 25th October**
For the first time in years, I felt free. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air of my hometown, I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and walked toward the cemetery. The children were staying with Aunt Vera, my late mother’s sister. They were on half-term break, and finally, just for a moment, I could pause. I’d come for a few days—to visit my parents’ graves and see the woman who had been like a second mother to me.
But when I returned home, everything shattered in an instant.
“Hand over the keys, Emily,” Roman said coldly, standing in the doorway. “This is the end. Lydia’s pregnant. I’m starting fresh, and you—well, you’re free.”
“What…?” I nearly dropped my bag. “Roman, how could you?”
He didn’t even blink.
“You knew this wasn’t forever. But don’t worry—you’ve got nothing anyway. The house? Rented. The business? Uncle Mark’s. The accounts? In your mum’s name. So don’t make a scene. And if you cause trouble, I’ll take the kids.”
Once, I’d been the star of the university. A natural blonde with green eyes, poised, graceful, disciplined. I had plans—dreams. My father, George Harrison, was well-respected. I’d imagined us building a business together someday.
But in one year, I lost everything. First Dad, then Mum, almost right after. I submitted my dissertation with hollow eyes, barely aware of the pen in my hand. That’s when Roman first approached me.
“Marry me,” he’d said. “You’ve got nothing here now. Let’s start over.”
I didn’t think—I just agreed. We had a student flat, bought by my father. We moved, worked, then opened a delivery firm together. I even sold my parents’ flat to invest.
At first, the business thrived, and everything was split equally. Then came maternity leave, the children, and bit by bit, it all shifted to Roman’s uncle. I didn’t question it—the house was comfortable, the children were healthy. It wasn’t until after my daughter was born that I realised I hadn’t just lost my share—I’d lost myself.
I changed. My body, worn from sleepless nights and endless chores. Roman, though? He blossomed—gym-toned, sun-kissed, with women always lingering nearby.
“You’ve let yourself go,” he once sneered. “I’m embarrassed to be seen with you. At least get a facial.”
His mother never missed a chance to twist the knife.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately? My son’s handsome, and you… You could be his mother! You’re not good enough for him!”
I tried. I dieted, I treated myself. But exhaustion and betrayal carved deeper than weight ever could.
And now, he’d just thrown me out. No shouting, no remorse. In my bag—only clothes and the children’s photo albums. No home, no money, no stake in the business. Just my two children, whom my ex-husband was already threatening to take.
Aunt Vera took us in. “Leave the kids with me,” she said. “Pull yourself together. I’ll help.”
And she did. She even proposed a business—a removals company. She invested her savings; I added what little I had from selling the old student flat. We started small—two vans, a few movers. Then it grew.
Five years later, I had a regional chain, a dispatch team, my own garage. Roman? He lost everything. Lydia had his baby, divorced him, and took his flat. His uncle’s business faltered—soon, he was kicked out.
“You were never a partner,” his uncle said. “Just a caretaker. I don’t trust you anymore.”
“Mum, say something!” Roman begged.
His mother shrugged. “You had everything right in front of you. And you threw it away.”
The remnants of his “charmed life” became a hostel bunk and trucking odd jobs. Then his health failed, and he applied for a driver’s role… at the largest logistics firm in the city.
He walked into the interview and saw… me.
Polished, confident, in a sharp suit. I watched him calmly, almost smiling.
“Hello, Roman. Job hunting?”
“You look incredible,” he muttered. “Maybe hire me for old times’ sake? I know the routes, the city—plenty of experience.”
“We don’t hire deadbeat dads,” I said evenly. “You’ve got arrears.”
“I tried to pay!” he snapped. “Not everything, but I did what I could!”
“The children are eighteen, and you’re still ‘trying.’ We don’t need employees like that.”
His fists clenched. “You’re doing this for revenge?”
“No, Roman. I just learned to set boundaries. You did this to yourself. And I—I rebuilt. Without you.”
“New husband helped, did he?”
I laughed, standing. My hair cascaded over my shoulders, my figure just like in my twenties. Only now, my eyes were steel.
“No. I did it alone. After you, I didn’t have the strength to let anyone close. Thank you for that. It hardened me.”
He swallowed. “Just… give me a chance. I did love you once.”
The door opened. A tall, blond young man—my mirror image—stepped in.
“Mum, lunch? Everything alright?”
His icy stare fixed on Roman.
“Leave. And don’t bother her—or we’ll have a different conversation.”
Roman froze. Then he turned and slammed the door behind him.
Outside, autumn rain drizzled. He lowered his head. He didn’t even know when it had all gone wrong. But somewhere deep, he knew: it began the day he betrayed the woman who’d once believed in him more than she ever believed in herself.
