13October2025
Dear Diary,
David here. This morning I was standing on the pavement of Baker Street, watching Emma haul a mountain of grocery bags onto the curb. She glanced across the road at the old hatchback Id left outside the council estate in Croydon, sucked in a breath, and lowered her head. I felt a knot tighten in my chesthow weary I was of this endless backandforth.
I sprinted toward her, nearly tripping on the uneven stones, and called out, Hey, Emma! I caught the bags just as she sighed. Good morning, she replied, her tone flat.
I was driving by, saw you struggling, thought Id lend a hand, I said, forcing a weak smile. Come on, lets get you home.
She gave me a puzzled look. What do you mean by? You live on St.Johns Road, not out here in the suburbs.
I turned the car around, two bags clutched in my hands. I was picking up a mate from work when I saw you. Couldnt just drive past. I shrugged. Let me give you a lift.
It’s only about a quarter of a mile, she muttered.
No bother, Ill take the heavy bags. Hows Charlie, mum? I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
Will find out on the weekend. You two talk every day, dont you? she said, following me more out of habit than desire. Why do you keep asking about my son?
Just interested, I replied, opening the passenger door for my former wife.
She hesitated at the rear door, peered inside and groaned at the clutter. Its a mess in there.
I sighed. You never trust me, do you? I placed the bags in the boot and slipped into the drivers seat, grinning at her as she stared out the window at the familiar rows of terraced houses.
You look fine, as always, I said.
Just take me home, David. I still have dinner to prepare, she snapped, irritated.
Right, right, I hurried the engine. Ive got a new job on a shift pattern, paperwork still pending, I blurted, watching her stare blankly at the passing streetlamps. Charlie said you moved out of the motherinlaws house?
Its been three years, Emma, she replied, voice flat.
Stop playing hideandseek! I pleaded. Why do I only see him when hes with you? Are you hiding your address? Let me drop you off properly.
No thanks, she muttered, tugging at the hem of her coat. I bought groceries for my mum.
Give them back and Ill take you home, I reminded her.
We stopped in the estates courtyard. What did Charlie say? I told him not to see you, I asked. Is everything alright between us?
Fine, she snapped. What the devil do you want from me? Her composure cracked.
Were not strangers, we have a son, I tried to take her hand. She pulled it back into her pocket with obvious disdain.
Enough, David! How many accidental visits can I endure? Stop calling my mother, stop begging for forgivenessit wont change anything. We left her because you were too much trouble. Im on the brink of a nervous breakdown with everyone reminding me how sorry you are, how you miss us, how you want the family back.
And Charlie? I asked, feeling the sting. Hes just getting used to seeing dad on weekends. You tell him well reconcile, you ask for greetings, ask about my work hours, where Im going.
I worry, I admitted.
Me tooabout the boy! Stop using him to pressure me! she snapped.
She tried to lift the boot lock, but it jammed. Frustrated, she yanked at it, eager to get away from me. My motherinlaw watched from the window, her eyes narrowed behind the curtains. I finally opened the boot and carried the bags to the front steps, but Emma halted me sharply.
No, Ill do it myself, she said.
Emma, I still love you, I blurted. Id give up the shift, go back to my old job, even buy a car for you. Walk the miles for you and Charlie, pick him up from karate.
No, she tore the bags from my grasp. I wish youd just leave, find a woman who makes you happy, and leave me alone.
Forgive me, Emma, it was a oneoff. I cursed myself ever since, I pleaded.
Ive forgiven you long ago, but you wont let me go, she said, tears welling.
I cant live without you, I shouted as she climbed the stairs.
Dont dramatise, Emma, she replied from above. Ive moved on. I cant love you again.
The door on the second floor slammed, and silence fell. I clenched my fists, stared at the windows of my exmotherinlaws flat, and thought how foolish Id been to trade a family for a fleeting affair.
Wed met in secondary school; Id been smitten, and shed lit up every room. After a brief romance, I left for the summer, fell for someone else, and when I returned, Emma was no longer my world. We stayed friends, drifted apart for years with university and work, only to reconnect later. She earned a firstclass degree, landed a job at the same factory where her mother worked, while I floundered, trying various ventures until finally securing a position on the production line. When Emma told me she was pregnant, I panicked but rushed to tell my parents, married, welcomed Charlie, bought a house with a mortgage the grandparents helped pay off early, and settled into a routine of seaside holidays, birthdays, and family gatherings. Over time, I grew restless, chasing ambition, but kept stumbling. A former colleague offered a shady shortcut to promotion; I took it, it fell apart, and I ended up back where I started, feeling bitter and empty.
Emma, exhausted by my endless crises, suggested I take a break, even offered me to look after Charlie while she went to her mothers. I refused at first but finally agreed to a short fishing trip with a friend up in Brighton. The trip never materialised; his wife sent a curt message, Leave him alone. Emma packed her things, took Charlie, and left for her mothers house. When I tried to follow, I was met with a closed door and a cold stare from the motherinlaw. She then served me divorce papers. I fought the process, begging for forgiveness, but Emma signed them.
A year later, seeing me try to be a better father, paying child support, calling Charlie every weekend, even winning back my former motherinlaws favour, she still felt the wounds. The relationship was beyond repair; the scars had healed only enough to leave hollow memories. We finally went our separate ways.
Emma, why are you still tormenting him? my mother asked, halfwhispering as I entered.
Whos tormenting who? Has Charlie even come home from school? Emma replied, eyes on the kettle.
No, my mother sighed. Hes driving me mad, wants to offshore to another job, and Im terrified of any new relationship with David.
Emma entered the kitchen with the groceries, the house smelling of fresh tea and baked scones. It smells wonderful, she said.
My son, Emma youve lived together for yearshow can that be? my mother pressed.
How can I? Emma retorted, voice sharp. Im not in love with him. Its all gone cold.
She clutched the phone, hearing my frantic voice on the other end, Youve got to answer, Emma! Ill be there, Ill give you a honeymoon, you miserable thing! I hurled insults, she laughed, Finally, youve got a clue. You swapped a family for a onenight fling and expect me to stay.
The argument escalated, the line went dead, and I never called again. Charlie, meanwhile, waited for his dads voice, feeling the emptiness of a father who had turned into a phantom.
Now, looking back, I see the pattern: I kept chasing the next thrill, thinking I could patch the broken pieces with grand gestures, while the real workhonesty, respect, and letting gowas left undone. Ive learned that some bridges are not meant to be rebuilt, and the wisest course is to accept the ending and move forward with integrity.
Lesson learned: chasing after whats lost only drags you deeper into the mire; sometimes the kindest thing you can dofor yourself and for those you loveis to step away and let life take its own course.
