**Diary Entry A Choice Between Love and Duty**
“Leah, choose: either me or your parents!” This time, my husband, Gideon, was firm and unyielding.
“Gideon, you know Id follow you to the ends of the earth. But dont shut out my parentsyoure the one who called them old. Have some mercy.”
“I dont want anything to do with them! If youre such a dutiful daughter, visit them yourself,” he shot back, glaring at me.
My first marriage was to a man whod served in Afghanistan. Simon seemed brave, fearlessa decorated major, a hardened soldier.
Our son, Oliver, was born. My parents adored their son-in-law and grandson. “Leah, love, your mother and I can rest easy now,” Dad would say. “Simons a good man. Weve handed you to safe handsdont disappoint us.”
But Simon paid Oliver little mind. The boy would reach for his father, only to be met with excusesfishing trips, veteran meetings, bad moods. In time, Oliver stopped trying.
Then Simons moods darkened. His war scars ran deep. One night, drunk and in full uniform, he threatened Oliver with his service pistol. That was the end. I couldnt risk our lives. We divorced amicably.
My parents were furious. “Youre a terrible wife! Where will you find another man like him? Youll regret this!”
But I never did. Simon became a footnote in my life. Years later, he married a deaf woman.
My second husband came swiftly. For work, I travelled between villages, drafting contracts. In one, I met Gideontall, charming, smiling. We clashed at first, but he invited me to dinner.
“Leah, let me take you home tomorrow. My treat.” He kissed my hand gallantly.
Oliver was with my parentswhy not? One dinner became many. Passion flared.
Gideon was six years younger, divorced, with a seven-year-old daughter. My parents would disapprovetoo young, too brash. But I didnt care.
“Dad, mum, Im remarrying. Gideon wants to meet you.”
Their faces froze. “Youre joking, Leah? We thought youd reconcile with Simon. You have a child!”
“Forget Simon. He forgot Oliver. Tomorrow, youll meet my fiancé. Dont mention my exits irrelevant.”
Gideon arrived with gifts and a proposal: “After the wedding, lets live together. Youre getting olderwell care for you.”
Dad scratched his head. “Where? Weve a tiny flat. Leah has her placeSimon left it to her.” He shot me a look. “What about you, son?”
“Ill build us a proper home. Three floors, space for everyone.”
We married grandly. Gideon spoiled meMediterranean cruises, European holidays, always including Oliver and his daughter, Lily.
Gideon treated Oliver as his own. But Lily? Cold stares, whispers in her fathers ear.
Three years later, we moved into our dream homethree floors, gardens, a summer kitchen. My parents had the ground floor for ease. Olivers room was at the top”Let the lad stretch his legs.”
Gideon was the perfect son-in-law. Bikes for Olivers twentieth, a car for my birthday, spa trips for mum, a fishing boat for dad.
Yet they scorned him. “Hes not Simon,” theyd mutter.
Gideon ignored it. “Let them talk. Ive a clear conscience.”
But tension festered. Then Oliver brought home a girlVerity.
“Who is she?” I asked. “Your fiancée?”
Oliver dragged her upstairs without a word.
Fine. His life. But Verity was bold.
“Leah, we want the second floor. Im pregnant.” She lounged, smoking, sipping my coffee.
“Respect your elders, or the doors open.”
“Oliver!” she screeched. “Your mums throwing me out!”
Oliver shoved me. I fell, hit my head, and woke in hospital.
My own son. For her.
Gideon was livid, called the police. I lied”I slipped.”
Later, Oliver begged forgiveness. I caved.
Then Gideon told me: “Verity crawled into our bed while you were gone.”
“What?”
“Drunk. I sent her packing.”
I didnt confront them. But my parents worsened itwhispering Gideon cheated, urging me to leave.
We fought. Gideon left. A month later, a friend spotted him with a woman.
Foolish meof course hed be snatched up.
I brought him home. The “other woman” was Lilystill single at twenty-five.
Gideon gave an ultimatum: “Chooseme or your parents.”
They were frail, but vicious toward him. We moveda fixer-upper, ten acres, peace at last.
Now they curse me: “Youre no daughter! Left us to rot! That man ruined us!”
But Gideon and I? Happy. We wed in the village church.
**Lesson:** Better a beloved wife than a dutiful daughterpeace is worth the price.
