**Diary Entry 12th March**
Came home today and barely got through the door before blurting out, We need to talk.
Still in my coat and shoes, I took a deep breath and said, Emily Ive fallen in love.
She just stared at me, silent. For a second, I thought she might be calculating whether this was some midlife crisis kicking inbut no, she just studied my face, really looked at me for the first time in years.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Well, I reckon Emilys was doing just that. Wed met onlinecliché, but true. Shed waited three years, Id grown an inch taller, and somehow, against the odds, wed ticked each others boxes. She cant remember who messaged first, but she swears my opening line wasnt terriblejust the right mix of wit and self-deprecation.
At thirty-three, she knew the score. The dating pool wasnt exactly overflowing with Prince Charmings, so she decided early on to wear the rose-tinted glasses, bring homemade biscuits in her handbag, and hope for the best.
Surprisingly, it worked. Six months in, after relentless hints from our parentswhod long given up on grandchildrenI proposed. A quick wedding followed, just family, no fuss. No time for cold feet.
We made a good life. Comfortable. No grand passion, but steady affectionthe kind that survives mismatched socks and lazy Sundays. I dropped the sensitive bloke act after a few weeks, settled into my true self: a bloke in trackies who couldnt flirt to save his life. Emily, in turn, ditched the mysterious seductress routine, especially after the kids came along.
Twelve years married, not a single slip-up. Not even a drunken flirtation at the pub. Emily once joked about me trying to charm someonethe sheer absurdity of it made her laugh. Id never mastered compliments, so my version was just staring. Wide-eyed, like a startled deer.
And now here I was, heart hammering, holding out a tiny, trembling creature.
You guessed? I stammered. Youyou knew it was a rat?
Emilys throat tightened. She imagined me, goggle-eyed, whispering sweet nothings to some rodent
Then she saw it. A little grey thing with pink ears, whiskers twitching.
Look at her, I breathed. So soft. So sweet. Reminds me of you.
Emily stopped hearing me then. Just stared, lips parted, at this ridiculous, perfect ratand at her ridiculous, perfect husband.
**Lesson learned:** Love doesnt always look the way you expect. Sometimes its quiet. Sometimes its silly. And sometimes, it hands you a rat and calls it poetry.
