“You’re not his wife,” said the mother-in-law, lifting the photograph from the wall.
“Emily, sweetheart, help Gran find my keysI cant seem to lay my hands on them!” Margarets voice trembled with agitation.
Emily glanced up from her phone, watching her grandmother fluster about the hallway, gripping the doorframe as her eyes darted around in search.
“Gran, theyre right therein your hand!” she laughed.
“Oh, good heavens, so they are!” Margaret chuckled, though the sound was strained. “Emily, wheres your mum?”
“Shes taken Alfie to nursery. Said shed be back soon,” the girl replied before burying herself in her screen again.
Margaret nodded and drifted into the sitting room, stopping before the wall of framed memories. Her gaze lingered on the largest photographOlivia in her ivory wedding dress, radiant, standing beside James in his sharp suit. It had hung there for eight years.
She reached up, carefully unhooking the frame, turning it over in her hands with a weighty sigh before carrying it to her room.
“Gran, whyd you take the photo down?” Emily called after her.
“Just giving it a dustfilthy, it is,” Margaret answered, though her voice wavered.
In her room, she perched on the edge of the bed, the photograph resting on her knees. How beautiful Olivia had been that day. And James, so young, so besotted. And now now everything had changed.
The front door clickedOlivia was back. Margaret quickly tucked the picture into her dresser drawer and returned to the kitchen.
“Margaret, hows everything? Alfies been an absolute terror this morningnothing but tantrums,” Olivia said, shrugging off her coat and draping it over a chair. “Waitwheres our wedding photo? It was just here.”
“What photo?” Margaret asked innocently, filling the kettle.
“The one of our wedding. Did you take it?”
Margaret set the kettle on the hob and turned. Olivia stood rigid, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because, Olivia, its time you faced a simple truth. Youre not his wife.”
Olivia paled, sinking onto a stool.
“What on earth are you saying?”
“Exactly that. Eight years, Olivia. Eight! And you still act like a bride. That wedding dress is still hanging in your wardrobeI saw it yesterday when I was putting away laundry. And you polish that photo every day, staring at it as if time stood still. But life moves on, love.”
Olivia said nothing, only clenched her fists.
“I dont understand what youre getting at.”
“James rang this morning. Early, before you were up. Said we needed to have a serious talk. With you. And with me.”
“What kind of talk?” Olivias voice was barely a whisper.
Margaret sat across from her, taking her hands.
“Olivia, my dear, I love you as my own. You know that. Emily calls you Mum, Alfie adores you. But James hes a young man, only thirty-two. Do you really think hell stay alone forever?”
Olivia wrenched her hands free.
“Were married! We have children together! How can you say Im not his wife?”
“Married, yes, but living like strangers. When was the last time he came homenot to visit the children, but to you? A month ago? Two?”
“He works hard. Always travelling”
“Oh, Olivia!” Margaret shook her head. “He works, yes. But not where you think. I saw him last week near that new shopping centre. With a womanyoung, pretty. Arm in arm, laughing. And when he spotted me, he went scarlet, stammering some rubbish about her being a colleague. But a mans eyes dont lie, Olivia. Not when hes in love.”
Olivia stood, stepping toward the window. Outside, a dreary drizzle pattered against the glass, grey clouds sagging low over the rooftops.
“So youre saying I should just accept it? Step aside and make way for her?”
“Im saying you need to ask yourselfare you happy? Do you want to keep living like this?”
“And the children? Emily starts school next year, Alfies still so little. How do I explain that their father wont be living with us?”
“How do you explain it now, when he barely comes home? When he sleeps in the spare room? When the two of you hardly speak?”
Margaret rose, wrapping an arm around Olivias shoulders.
“Emily already knows. Yesterday she asked me why you and James never hug like her friend Sophies parents do. What was I supposed to say? That its some sort of game?”
“I dont know,” Olivia whispered. “I dont know what to do.”
“But I do. Ive lived a long life, seen enough to know. Love, Oliviait either is, or it isnt. You cant pretend it. You and James are good people. Just not for each other. It happens.”
At that moment, four-year-old Alfie burst into the kitchen, tousle-haired and rosy-cheeked.
“Mum, Mum! Gran said Dads coming today! Is it true? Is he really coming?” He clung to Olivias arm.
“Yes, love. Hes coming.” She lifted him, holding him close.
“Is he staying? Forever?”
Olivia looked to Margaret, who turned back to the window.
“I dont know, Alfie. Hell tell us.”
The boy nodded, squirming free and dashing off to share the news with his sister.
“See?” Margaret murmured. “Children live on hope. And hope that never comes true is worse than the truth. Far worse.”
Olivia slumped back into her seat, covering her face.
“Eight years ago, I was sure wed be happy forever. Remember how James courted me? Flowers every day, reciting poetry. Said he couldnt live without me.”
“Of course I remember. He worshipped you.”
“What changed? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, Olivia. Life just isnt a fairy tale. James married a bright, laughing university girl. Now he lives with a tired, overwhelmed woman. Children came, money grew tight, he worked longer, came home less. And youyou stopped smiling when he walked in. Started meeting him with lists of chores instead of kisses.”
“But I tried!” Olivia choked. “I kept the house, raised the kids, cared for you when you were ill! I did everything for this family!”
“For the family, yes. But you forgot the woman in you. And James felt that. Men need more than a housekeeper, Olivia. They need a woman who loves themnot just for what they provide.”
The kettle whistled. Margaret stood, hands trembling slightly as she poured the tea.
“I do love him,” Olivia whispered.
“Do you? Or have you just grown used to him? Be honest.”
Olivia fell silent. When had she last been glad to see James? When had she asked about his daynot just what hed brought home from the shops?
“Maybe he has met someone someone who makes him happy,” she said slowly.
“He has. Her names Laura. Works at his firm. Divorced, no children. James confessed when I confronted him after seeing them together.”
“What did he say?”
“That he never meant for this to happen. That he loves you and the childrenbut differently. You as a dear friend. Her, as a man loves a woman.”
“So its already decided?”
“Nothings decided. Hes torn, Olivia. Afraid of losing the children, of hurting you. But he cant go on like this. Says he feels like a stranger in his own home.”
Laughter spilled from the childrens roomEmily and Alfie playing some game. Olivia smiled faintly at the sound.
“And you think I should just let him go?”
“I think you need to ask yourselfdo you want him back? Truly?”
“Of course I do! How can you even ask?”
“Then why havent you called him in three months? Why dont you ask if he misses home? Why do you hand him a shopping list instead of a kiss when he walks in?”
Olivia turned. Margarets eyes held no judgmentonly sorrow.
“Im scared.”
“Of what?”
“That if I try to be who I was, and he leaves anyway itll hurt even more.”
“Thats nonsense! Hes your husband, the father of your children. If you wont fight for him, who will?”
Emily appeared in the doorway, wise beyond her years.
“Mum is it true Dads not going to live with us anymore?”
Olivia and Margaret exchanged glances.
“Where did you hear that, sweetheart?” Olivia asked carefully.
“Im not deaf! I hear you and Dad arguing. Hear him tossing in the spare room. Alfie cried yesterday, said Dad doesnt love him.”
“Emily, darling” Margaret began, but the girl cut in.
“Dont, Gran. Just tell me the truthis Dad leaving us or not?”
Olivia knelt, pulling her daughter close.
“Emily, your dad loves you and Alfie more than anything. But sometimes adults have complications.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
“I dont know yet. Maybe.”
“And if you do, do we live with you or Dad?”
“With me, of course!” Olivia said quickly, then hesitated. “I mean well decide together.”
Emily nodded solemnly.
“Okay. Can I tell Alfie? He keeps asking when Dads moving back.”
“Of course.”
Once the girl had gone, Olivia sank back into her chair.
“Shes too clever for her age. And Alfie senses it too, even if hes little.”
“Children always know when somethings wrong. They need honestynot pretence.”
“Margaret what if I really try? To be who I was before? Maybe its not too late.”
“Olivia, my dear,” Margaret took her hand, “I just want you happy. All of you. But happiness cant be forced. If you want to fight for your marriage, fight. Just know the outcome may not be what you hope.”
“Ill try. Maybe itll work.”
“Maybe it will,” Margaret smiled. “But start with yourself. When was the last time you had your hair done?”
“I dont even remember,” Olivia admitted. “Months ago.”
“Go today. Ill mind the children. Wear something nicenot those worn-out jeans. Show James the woman he fell in love with.”
“What if he says its over? That hes made up his mind?”
“Then at least youll know you tried. And the children will toothat their mother fought for their family.”
Olivia stood, catching her reflection in the hallway mirror. She looked tired. Hair limp, face drawn, clothes shapeless.
“You know what? Ill go. Get myself sorted. And when James comes tonight well talk. Properly.”
“Thats the spirit. Ill keep the photo for now. If things work out, it goes back up. If not well, perhaps it was time.”
Olivia turned to leave but paused.
“Margaret what about you? If James and I divorce, the children stay with me. Youd lose them.”
“Ill lose nothing,” Margaret said firmly. “Emily and Alfie will always be mine. And you youre like a daughter to me. If James has found love elsewhere, Ill understand. But I wish happiness for you all.”
“Thank you. For being honest.”
“Go on, then. And Ill tell the children their mums off to become a princess.”
That evening, Olivia was transformed. Freshly styled hair, a dress she hadnt worn in years, even a touch of makeup. The children gasped when they saw her.
“Mum, you look like a queen!” Alfie breathed.
“Gorgeous,” Emily agreed.
James arrived just after seven. He froze in the doorway at the sight of her.
“Hello,” she said softly.
“Hello. You you look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The children swarmed him, chattering about their day, showing off drawings. He listened, hugged them, answered their questionsbut Olivia saw the tension in him.
After dinner, when the children had scattered and Margaret had discreetly retired, they sat alone in the kitchen.
“Your mother said you wanted to talk,” Olivia began.
“I did. Olivia, I this isnt easy.”
“I know about Laura.”
James flinched. “You do?”
“She told me.” Olivia took a breath. “I wont shout. I wont beg. Just tell me honestlydo you want our marriage to end?”
“I God, Olivia, I dont know!” He stood, pacing. “Im torn. The children, you, this house But Ive realised I can be happynot just when I see the kids, but every day.”
“And you cant be happy with me?”
“I dont know. We havent been husband and wife in so long. Just co-parents, co-habitants. Sometimes I think were strangers living together out of habit.”
Olivia nodded. “Ive thought that too. And you know what I realised today? We both let it happen. You stopped being a husband. I stopped being a wife.”
“So what now?”
“What do you want?”
James met her eyes. “The truth? I want to try again. With you. Not pretending nothings wrong, but properly. Like two people who are willing to fight for what they have.”
“And Laura?”
“Ill end it. Tell her I need to give my family a chance.”
“And if it doesnt work? If we realise were just not right anymore?”
“Then we divorce. But cleanly. Without bitterness. And we stay friendsfor the children.”
Olivia reached across the table. James covered her hand with his.
“Alright. Well try.”
The next morning, Margaret entered the sitting room, dusting cloth in hand. She paused before the blank space where the wedding photo had hung, then turned and retrieved it from her drawer.
She rehung it carefully, stepping back to check it was straight.
Olivia stood in the doorway, coffee in hand.
“Putting it back?”
“For now,” Margaret said. “Its too soon to take it down. Well see.”
