25October2025
Dear Diary,
Ive spent most of my life tucked away in the backstreets of London, never quite fitting the mould of a proper wife. I was, for a long time, just a girl who drifted from one fleeting romance to another, never daring to think I could ever settle down. By the time I turned thirty I finally decided I wanted a real man, someone I could build a life with. I didnt realise at first that Paul, the charming bloke Id begun to see, was already married. He didnt try to hide it once he sensed Id grown attached; the truth slipped out as soon as he saw the earnest look in my eyes.
I never blamed Paul. Instead I scolded myself for being so weak, for letting my heart lead me into such a precarious position. I felt a bitter shame that Id missed the chance to find a proper husband when I should have, and the years kept slipping by. Even if I wasnt a knockout, I was pleasant enoughsoftspoken, a little curvy, the sort of woman who might be thought a touch older than she actually was.
Our affair went nowhere. I didnt want to stay forever as his secret, yet the thought of being on my own terrified me. Then, one afternoon, my cousin Simon dropped by. He was passing through London on a short business trip and thought it would be nice to catch up. We ate a simple lunch in the kitchen, laughing like children about everything and nothing. I poured my heart out to him, tears spilling as I described my tangled life.
Just then the neighbour knocked, asking me to pop over and judge her latest shopping haul. I stepped out for about twenty minutes. The doorbell rang while I was gone. Simon went to answer, assuming Id already returned, but the door was left ajar. Standing in the hallway was Paul, his breath shallow, a greasy sandwich clutched in his hand, his tracksuit glaring in the dim light.
Is Emily home? he asked, his voice trembling.
Emilys in the bathroom, Simon guessed, trying to keep his cool.
Excuse me, who are you to her? Paul stammered.
Im her partner, civilly speaking, Simon replied, moving in and grabbing Paul by the shoulders. Youre the married bloke shes been talking about, arent you? If I see you here again, Ill throw you down the stairs, understand?
Paul wrenched free and bolted downstairs.
Emily came back shortly after, eyes red from crying. Simon told her what had happened.
What have you done? Who sent you? she wailed. He wont be coming back.
I sat on the sofa, my face buried in my hands.
Exactly, hes gone for good, and thats a blessing. Stop wallowing. I know a fine widower in the village of Ashbourne. His late wifes memory still haunts him, so hes turned away any new chances. Hes looking for a gentle soul. After my next trip Ill swing by with you, and well go together. Youll see.
Emilys protest was weak. I cant I dont know any of you, and the thought of staying with a stranger its mortifying.
The shame isnt in being with a stranger, its in staying alone, Simon said. Remember, its my sisters birthday, and well have a proper celebration.
A few days later we arrived in Ashbourne. Simons wife, Lucy, had laid a table in the garden beside the old stone bathhouse. Neighbours and friends gathered for a small feast, including the village widower, Alex Hartley. The community already knew Emily, but this was her first meeting with Alex.
After the warm chatter, Emily returned to London, thinking how quiet and modest Alex seemed. He must be still grieving his wife. Poor lad, such a tender heart, she mused.
The following Saturday, a knock sounded at her flat. No one was expected. Opening the door, she found Alex standing there with a shopping bag in hand.
May I come in, Emily? I was just out at the market and thought Id stop by now that were acquainted, he said, his voice a little shy.
She invited him in, still startled, and offered tea.
Did you get everything you needed? she asked.
Yes, the groceries are in the car. I brought you this, Alex replied, pulling a modest bundle of tulips from the bag and handing it to her.
The flowers made her cheeks glow. They sat at the kitchen table, talking about the weather and the price of fresh produce. When the tea was finished, Alex rose to leave, slipping his coat on slowly, then turning back to her.
If I walked out now without saying anything, Id regret it forever. Emily, Ive thought about you all weekhonestly. I took your address from Simon because I couldnt wait for the weekend.
Emily blushed and looked down.
We barely know each other, she murmured.
That doesnt matter. May I call you by your first name? Im not a perfect catchI have an eightyearold daughter whos currently staying with her grandmother.
Alexs hands trembled slightly.
A daughter is a blessing, Emily said softly, a wistful smile forming. Ive always wanted a little girl of my own.
Encouraged, Alex took her hands and, pulling her gently closer, kissed her.
When they pulled apart, tears glistened in Emilys eyes.
Do you find me repulsive? he asked, halflaughing.
Not at all. Its more than I ever expectedsweet and calm. Im not stealing anyones happiness.
From that day onward they met every weekend. Two months later they were married in Ashbourne, and Emily began working at the local nursery. A year later their daughter, Lily, was born, and soon after they welcomed Alexs little girl, Sophie, into their home. The house bustled with two happy girls, and love seemed to flow evenly to everyone.
Even now, when we sit together for dinner, Simon winks at me across the table.
Not bad, Gal, he teases, that husband I nudged you toward. Youre getting better and better. Im only looking out for my sister, you know.
I smile, grateful for the twists of fate that finally led me out of the shadows and into a life I never imagined I could have.
