23October2025
Dear Diary,
Ive finally stopped pretending I know everything. At twentynine youre supposed to have a grip on life, yet here I am, feeling as bewildered as a tourist in the rainsoaked streets of London.
Im exhausted from carrying this weight alone. I keep asking myself: Lucy, why does it always feel like theres something wrong with me? Am I too clingy, too boring, perhaps even offputting? Or am I simply not giving enough love and tenderness? Everyone around me seems to have a partnertall, short, skinny, heavy, drinkers, the attractive and the plainall of them wrapped up in their own little worlds. And I? Im still on the outside looking in.
Listen, Emmadont laugh, but my gran used to tell me about the crown of spinsterhood, Lucy whispered, eyes bright with mischief.
Are we living in the Middle Ages now? I scoffed.
You dont believe it? she jabbed, leaping from her chair. My thirdcousins aunt lost that crown, and Gran took it off her.
What grandold woman are you talking about? I asked, not so much out of curiosity as to have something to say.
Ill ring Nadine, my sistershes the one who stripped the crown off my cousin. Ill get the full story, Lucy replied, pulling out her phone.
After a few minutes of mumbling into the handset, I heard snippets: Right, Nadine, how are you? Getting married again? And what about Geoffrey? Oh, hes left, isnt he? Never mind, Ill be there. She hung up, a sigh escaping her lips.
Somethings come up? I asked.
Nothing, really, she said, then leaned in. Its that wedding gift againmy sisters getting married for the fifth time. Apparently the old crown is finally gone. Heres the address. Fancy a trip?
I shrugged. I went, but Granwho seemed to have turned the whole thing into a little maze sent me back emptyhanded.
No crown for you.
But I began.
Youve been picking the wrong blokes, she retorted. First one left you with a child for a promise, yet he was already married. Second? Not your man either. Third? Also no good.
Third? Im single, I muttered.
There will be a third, love. Its coming when you least expect it. Hell be yours, though not entirely yourstherell always be a part of you thats left behind. Trust him; hes steady, and youll find the happiness youve been chasing. Patience, not haste, is the key.
She also told Lucy to push her friend to see a doctor, hand her some herbs, and stop tinkering with nothing. That conversation seemed to have happened ages ago, when I, at my wits end, sought Grans counsel. Everything she said then seemed to come true.
I met a fourth man, but Grans words faded like mist. He was kind, treated my daughter well, yet something always pulled him away, as if he vanished without a word.
Then I stumbled upon Yuri. At first I didnt realise it was himthe very same Yuri who lived in the flat next door for years, its windows forever cracked. When I moved in with my daughter, the building was empty. An elderly neighbour, Aunt Kate, mentioned the owner only turned up for brief visits. One evening, curiosity got the better of me; I peeked through the slightly ajar door and saw a man hanging wallpaper.
I slipped out, assuming the owner had returned. He did, and we first brushed past each other in the hallway a week later. The doors in that corridor were oddly designedopening one would lock the other, forcing you to shut the first before the second could swing. In a rush to get to work, I tried to open my flats door and failed. The neighbour apologized, closed his flat, and I heard his light footsteps fade away. Later, I blocked his exit deliberately, just to see what would happen.
Our paths crossed again on the estates communal garden. He let me be the first to open the gate. One day he helped Kristine lift her bike, and I baked some scones for him. In the park, his sonabout Kristines agejoined us, and the three of us spent the afternoon on the swings, laughing like children. Six months later, Yuri asked me out, introduced me to his family, and we began living together.
Before moving in, he laid his cards on the table:
Emma, Im not a twentyyearold lad or a brute. Im a grown man with my own views and habits. If you live with me, I wont be unfaithful. Ill do the hard work, help out, earn a decent wage, never drink or smoke, and I have no bad habits. Ill respect you, value youthough I cant promise love. Ive loved before and failed; Im not a stone, but my feelings are complicated.
He went on about a past crush on a girl hed loved in his youth, how shed seen him only as a friend, and how hed tried for years to push that love away. He wondered if I should have spoken to her, but I told him what I could: Im not here to be a hero. Im just a woman whos tired of waiting.
He confessed that his exwife, Inna, hadnt been the one he loved. She was beautiful, smart, lively, he said. But I couldnt stay with someone I didnt love. I listened, then asked why he left Inna. He answered honestly: I didnt love her.
I thought about his words, about love being a gift for some and a curse for others. I felt like a wounded soldier, unable to give a woman the happiness she deserved. Yet he urged me to decide for myselfcould I live without fireworks, without passion? Hed tried his best, he said, and I should think before answering.
A week later I met his large, cheerful family. They welcomed me and my daughter with warmth, and I realized I wasnt a replacement for any past love. I never regretted saying yes to Yuri; he proved reliable, solving my problems and allowing me to set aside thoughts of lust and romance. Occasionallyperhaps a couple of times a yearI caught his wandering glance, a fleeting reminder of something left behind. It never disrupted our life.
Now, as I watch him wash the windows in the spring sunshine, the sun beating down on the garden, he looks at me with a tenderness I hadnt expected. He steps into the room, admiring me, feeling free as if hed finally found the love hed been searching for.
Emma? he asks, his voice soft.
Yes?
He smiles, kisses my cheek, and says, You were right, Gran. All we needed was to wait.
Good morning, dear reader of my thoughts. May your love, if it has yet to arrive, flutter through your window, and if its already here, cherish it dearly. I send you warm hugs, rays of kindness, and a gentle reminder to hold onto what matters most.
Always yours,
Emma.
