Dear Diary,
Ive loved Oliver ever since I could remember, so deeply that I seemed willing to excuse anything he did.
We married while I was still barely out of my teens; I had just turned nineteen. Id been chasing after Oliver since I was sixteen, even trying to look older than I was. At first he barely noticed mehe thought I was just a little girl. When I grew up, became a pretty young woman, he finally decided I was a prize that slipped into his hands.
He was twentyfour then, I was eighteen. Our relationship beganodd, a little twisted.
Oliver would vanish for days, ignoring calls and messages, claiming he was out for a walk. He would reappear as if nothing had happened, and I would always be waiting for him. Tears came, of course, but he kept telling me he loved only me. He was just a freespirited sort, never truly settled.
I kept believing he would change, that one day hed love me as fiercely as I loved him.
My childhood friend James had known me since nursery. We grew up on the same culdesac, later attended the same secondary school. James was secretly in love with me, though he knew I saw him only as a friend. It hurt him that I didnt value myself enough; he thought I deserved someone better.
He knew that if I ever returned his feelings, hed do anything for me. But he also understood that I was hopelessly attached to Oliver, as if enchanted by him. So James stayed in the background, always quietly nearby.
When Oliver disappeared again or started a pointless argument, I would break down to James.
Why does he treat me like this? I love him so much Id sob.
Maybe you should stop loving him, James would snap.
I cantwhy dont you understand?
James understood all too well. He would gladly give up his love for me, but he couldnt bring himself to do it, so he kept quiet, feeling my pain.
Oliver grew more uncontrollable, drank heavily and flirted openly with other women. In my desperation I made the biggest mistake a lovesick girl could makeI got pregnant, hoping a child would pull Oliver together, that hed finally value me and love our baby.
At nineteen I told Oliver the news. He didnt smile.
I suppose we should get married, I muttered, embarrassed, before the bump shows.
Probably, he replied with a frown.
I never understood why he finally agreed to tie the knot. Maybe he thought something would work out, or simply didnt see a way out.
I was the happiest bride. For James, that day felt like a funeral. Watching meso hopeful, radianthe wanted to whisk me away, lock me inside his home until I realized he was a better match than Oliver.
Naturally he never acted on that. He feigned good wishes for my future with Oliver while drowning his own sorrows in drink.
Oliver and I welcomed a son, Thomas. At first Oliver tried to be a decent father and husbandhe stopped disappearing, spent less time with his mates, helped with the baby and didnt argue with me.
But soon he realised that a quiet domestic life wasnt for him. When Thomas turned one, Oliver slipped back into old habits. He vanished for three days, leaving me frantic, calling hospitals, the morgue, even his own friends, pleading for any clue.
James was there again, looking after Thomas while I tore the town apart searching for Oliver. I even filed a police report before he finally stumbled back home.
Oliver stormed into the kitchen.
Im not obliged to answer to you, he snapped. Thomas began to cry, and Oliver, hungover, barely gave a glance.
From then on he stopped pretending. Hed come and go, and each time I welcomed him back, hoping hed finally change.
When Thomas was three, Oliver left for good. He disappeared once more, and I assumed hed simply run off again. After picking Thomas up from nursery, I found the house empty of his things.
While I was trying to make sense of it, a message popped up on my phone:
Im filing for divorce, dont wait for me.
I was shattered, screaming, feeling I could not go on. James arrived immediately, staying with me for a full day, looking after Thomas, making sure I didnt do anything foolish.
When I finally steadied myself, James made his move.
So, Ill be your husband now, and Thomass father.
I looked at him, shook my head.
Im sorry, I dont love you that way. I love you as a friend and Im grateful for everything youve done, but I cant see you as a partner.
I know, James said flatly. But I love you beyond friendship and I wont let you suffer any longer.
He could find no words. I was so broken that I could only nod, letting him stay.
James never pressed. He stayed, caring for Thomas as if he were his own son, never forcing anything.
I watched James and realised there was no better option. No one would love my son as James does, or look after me as he does. And I gave innot because I fell in love, but out of sheer desperation.
James was over the moon when I agreed to marry him. The day Thomas first called him dad, James even wept.
Our life settled into a happy, enviable family. Sometimes James felt I might love him as a man, not just a friend. Other times he feared Oliver would reappear, that I might abandon everything and return to that reckless husband.
He lived in that uneasy limbojoy at our bliss, terror at night when nightmares turned into reality.
Then Thomass sixth birthday arrived. James and I prepared a grand party. The children bounced in a trampoline centre, and at home a cake and presents awaited.
As Thomas blew out his candles, the doorbell rang.
Someone else here to wish you happy birthday? I laughed.
Ill get it, James said, opening the door without peeking.
A cold dread slithered into my heart as I saw Oliver standing there, clutching a strange plush rabbit.
He glanced at James with a sneer.
Are you still hanging around? Wheres my son? Im here to wish him a happy birthday.
Whats happening, James? I shouted, stepping out of the kitchen, turning pale. Thomas froze, then stared at Oliver.
Happy birthday, son! Oliver grinned.
Thomas looked first at Oliver, then at James.
Dad, whos this? he asked James.
Olivers face darkened; he hadnt expected that.
Dad, I guess Thomas whispered.
James, take Thomas away, I said sharply.
Eleanor James began, his voice trembling.
Please
The look in Olivers eyes was the same as when he first bewitched me. James had always known this moment might come. One thing was certain: I would never give Thomas back to him. He was my father, not some mistake.
James and Thomas played in the living room, surrounded by gifts. Yet James couldnt enjoy it; his thoughts lingered on the door, waiting for me to tell him it was time to leave. My hands shook, my smile was forced.
So, hows everything? I asked, trying to sound casual.
Were playing! Thomas shouted. Did Uncle go?
He left. Weve already blown out the candles, and the cakes still uneaten!
Yes! Thomas squealed, dashing to the kitchen. James grabbed my elbow, looking at me.
Whats wrong? I forced a grin. Lets go before Thomas smashes the whole cake. Well be broke at the dentist otherwise.
Eleanor James murmured.
I embraced him, then kissed his cheek.
He wont come back. Hes not needed in Thomass life; he has a real father.
And you?
Me? All I need is you.
James smiled, took my hand, and led me to the kitchen.
Perhaps the wild, reckless love of my youth never truly died, perhaps a fragment still lingers. Yet youthful folly has given way to wisdom, and Jamess steady love has finally thawed the cold parts of my heart. I now know Im happier than Ive ever been. That reckless passion belongs to the pastthere was nothing good left in it.
