Emily laid the table, simmered a pot of pea and ham soup, and baked golden pasties filled with beef and onion—ever since she was little, she believed the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. She tried, she hoped, she prayed. Five years of marriage, and nothing. No patter of tiny feet, no midnight cries from the nursery. Doctors nodded and said, “There’s still hope,” but her husband brushed off appointments. Daniel grew distant, sharp-tempered, cold. His mother, Margaret, never missed a chance to blame Emily.
“You can’t give me grandchildren because you’re the problem,” Margaret spat. “My son’s fine—it’s you who messed about in your younger days!”
Emily wept at night. She saw dozens of specialists, endured tests, swallowed prescriptions. But it was useless without Daniel’s cooperation. He saw no reason to try—just stormed out, slamming doors, yelling that nothing tied them together except the mortgage.
Still, she clung to hope.
…That evening, like always, Emily waited for him to come home. The smell of a home-cooked meal filled the air, but instead of a greeting, she got:
“Why’s the kitchen such a tip?” Daniel scowled at the unwashed dishes.
“I was cooking—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Doesn’t matter. Sit. We need to talk.”
Emily’s pulse quickened.
“All this…” He gestured around the room. “Us. It’s pointless. There’s someone else. We’re in love. I’m filing for divorce.”
She froze. One moment, pasties steamed on the table—the next, her life crumbled.
“What about our plans? Our dreams?” Emily whispered.
“I’ve got new ones now. I still want kids—just not with you.”
He walked out. For good.
What followed was a nightmare—court dates, splitting assets, snide remarks, humiliation. Margaret demanded the flat—after all, her “precious boy” hadn’t got his heir. No one pitied Emily. Not even her mum could comfort her.
“You’re still young,” Sarah kept saying. “This is just the beginning.”
“I don’t want love or marriage ever again,” Emily sobbed. “I’m broken.”
But Sarah didn’t give up. She dragged Emily to doctors, pulled her out of depression, insisted she shouldn’t write herself off.
Emily gave in—just for her mum’s sake. More tests, more treatments, work, occasional nights out with friends. She tried not to dwell on the past, just survived as best she could. She thought her heart would stay locked away—until James walked in with a smile and proved her wrong.
