**Diary Entry**
It happened todayI crossed paths with my ex-wife, and jealousy turned my cheeks green. Oliver ran into his ex, Emma, and the envy was so sharp he could almost feel his face burning. He slammed the fridge door hard enough to make the contents rattle. One of the magnets clattered to the floor with a dull thud.
Emma stood there, pale, fists clenched at her sides.
“Well, do you feel better now?” she asked, chin lifted.
“Youre driving me mad,” Oliver muttered, voice shaky despite his best effort to stay calm. “What kind of life is this? No joy, no future.”
“So, everythings still my fault?” Emma gave a bitter smile. “Of course. Nothing ever lives up to your fantasies.”
Oliver wanted to argue but just waved a hand dismissively. He took a swig of sparkling water straight from the bottle, then slammed it back onto the table.
“Oliver, dont just shut down,” Emma said, voice trembling. “Tell mefor oncewhats really bothering you.”
“What is there to say?” he growled. “I’m tired of it all. *Sod it.*”
They stared at each other in silence. Finally, Emma took a deep breath and walked away, shutting herself in the bathroom. Oliver sank heavily onto the sofa. The sound of running water muffled her sobsshe mustve turned the tap on to hide them. Not that it mattered to him anymore.
**A Life Gone Stale**
Three years ago, theyd married. First, they lived in Emmas parents old flat, then moved to a countryside cottage, putting the flat in their daughters name. The house was spacious but shabby, full of outdated furniture. At first, Oliver was contentcentral location, easy commute. But over time, everything grated on him. Emma loved their “family nest” with its beige wallpaper and old-fashioned sideboard. To Oliver, it just felt stagnant.
“Emma, tell me honestly,” hed press. “Dont you want to rip up that awful yellow linoleum? Freshen the place up?”
“Oliver, right now we cant afford renovations,” shed say patiently. “I want change, toojust wait for the bonuses.”
“*Wait?* Thats your answerjust sit and wait?”
Oliver often thought back to how hed fallen for Emmaa shy student then, her blue eyes earnest, smile sweet. Hed told his friends: *Shes a bud, still blooming.* Now, it felt like the flower had never opened, just wilted.
Emma didnt think of herself as invisible. She just lived quietly, finding joy in small thingsa cup of mint tea, a new tablecloth, a quiet evening with a book. Oliver saw only stagnation.
They hadnt rushed to divorceOliver didnt fancy moving back in with his parents, and separate living wasnt an option. Emmas mum, Margaret, always took her side:
“Oliver, Emmas a good woman. Be grateful for the roof over your head.”
“Mum, you dont get it!” hed snap.
His dad just shrugged. “Let him figure it out.”
At home, Oliver grew colder, muttering to himself: *Shes like a shadow, a grey ghost* In one row, hed lashed out:
“I saw you as a blooming rose! Now? Im stuck with a wilted bud”
That was the first time in months Emma had cried.
And that same night, when everything fell apart, Oliver sighed:
“Emma, Im exhausted.”
“By what?” she asked.
“By this life. This routine with no end.”
Emma picked up her bag and left. Oliver half-expected her to turn back, beg him to staybut she just walked out calmly. “Maybe you should really live alone. Move out.”
Oliver exploded. “Im not leaving!”
“*My parents flat, my rules,*” Emma said coldly. “I wont live with someone who sees me as dead weight.”
He had no choicehe left. Weeks later, the divorce was final.
**The Encounter That Changed Everything**
Three years passed. Oliver still lived with his parents, trying to start fresh, but luck wasnt on his side. His job barely paid, small comforts the only bright spots.
One spring evening, walking past a café, he froze. Emma sat inside. But this wasnt the Emma hed known. This woman was confidenthair styled, smart coat, car keys in hand.
“Emma?” Oliver blurted.
She turned, recognised him, and smiled. “Oliver? Hello. Howve you been?”
“Uhfine,” he stammered, unable to look away. “And you?”
“Good, thanks.” Her tone was light. “Same old job?”
“No,” she said. “I opened my own florist shop. Scary at first, but I made it work.”
“Someone helped you?”
Just then, a tall man in a sharp overcoat stepped out and slipped an arm around Emma. “Darling, tables ready.”
“Oliver, this is Henry,” Emma said. “Lovely seeing you.”
“Happy for you,” Oliver muttered, jealousy bitter in his throat.
“Thanks,” Emma replied softly.
Henry nodded, and they walked inside, leaving Oliver on the chilly pavement.
Once, hed said: *Im stuck with a wilted bud.*
Turns out, the bud *did* bloomjust not for him.
