12October2025
Dear Diary,
I was standing outside the highend restaurant on Regent Street, staring at the window display, when I saw her. My exwife, Daisy Clarke, was there, typing away on a sleek laptop. A waiter placed a glass of freshly pressed orange juice and a raspberrystrawberry tart on the table beside her. I thought, She cant possibly look so polished and that bracelet must have cost a fortune. I slipped away, hoping she wouldnt notice me.
Wed first met six years ago, just after Id graduated from university and landed a junior position at a prominent construction firm. My career took off quickly. At an industry exhibition I struck up a conversation with a pleasant young woman working a booth. Fancy a coffee instead of wandering around these diggers? I asked cheerfully. She smiled, and we started talking. Her quiet confidence caught my eye straight away.
In my mind she was exactly what I wanted: compliant, agreeable, someone who could become the perfect, obedient wife. I imagined her a little plump at first, but thought I could send her to the gym, and if she ever went off after we had children, Id simply find a lover. When we stepped outside together, I teased, What brings you to this fair? She blushed and replied, Im a budding writer hoping to break into screenwriting. She was still studying literature and needed money to pay the rent. I thought, She has no money, no family connections. I can shape her into a housewife who cooks, looks after the home, raises the children, and obeys me without question. I bragged about my plans to anyone who would listen.
Later, I bought a coffee from a kiosk across the street and took a bench to watch her. When Daisy emerged, I could hardly recognize her. She moved with a graceful stride, draped in a mink coat, and slipped into a sleek sports car. I was stunnedshed transformed completely in three years. She must have found a wealthy man, I muttered, gulping the hot coffee as if it could swallow my fear. She drove off, vanishing into the night.
That evening I lay awake for hours. After we split, Daisy blocked me on every social platform. I created a new account just to stalk her photos. Jealousy, rage, hatredmy mind was a maelstrom as I downed half a litre of vodka. How could she become so glamorous? She was nobody, had no money, no looks. Where did those lavish hotel pictures, designer bags, and perfect curves come from? Did she lose ten kilos, have plastic surgery, or spend endless hours in the gym? I clenched my phone in fury.
The next morning a memory of a conversation with Daisy resurfaced. Its all subjective, shed said, defending her latest short story. I already have admirers. I laughed, thinking, Who needs readers when you have no brain? She tried to explain, Ian, why are you like this? Weve been together a year, but you cant accept that I have my own passions. I snapped, If youd help me with my work, Id spend less time in the office. I threw her out of the house, demanding she abandon writing and become my assistant.
She protested, tears welling, My writing is my soul! I answered coldly, Its useless to anyone but you. Youre now a burden. From now on youll follow my daily task list. She begged, I dont understand youre taking away what matters to me. I replied, Ive supported you for a year, bought you gifts, taken you on holidays. Either help me or get out. The door is right there. She left, wiping her eyes, and never wrote another story again.
A year later Id built a network of contacts and accumulated capital, partly from selling my grandmothers cottage, and launched my own construction company. Daisy worked for me from dawn to duskhandling paperwork, presentations, supervising crews, arranging meetings. I soon developed a new housing estate and made a tidy profit. Everything was fine, except for Daisys appearance. Under constant stress she turned to sweets, gaining weight rapidly. I cant be seen in public with her now, I complained to a friend at the pub. She looks grotesque. My mate laughed, Yeah, its a sad sight. I installed a dating app on my phone, convinced I needed a fresh companion.
Soon I met Olivia, a fit and demanding woman who agreed to be my new partner on the first date, even joining me in the bathroom of a trendy London restaurant. She whispered, You love the way I look, as we stared out over the city from a rented flat meant for secret rendezvous. I ran my hand lightly over her back, replying, Of course. She listed expenseshair, manicure, cosmetics, gymexpecting me to fund them, while I simply admired her beauty, confident I could afford a higher level of success.
Within a month Olivia had completely replaced Daisy in my thoughts. I rarely returned home, where Daisy waited each evening. One night she greeted me with homemade pesto pasta, saying, I made the sauce myself, just how you like it. I grunted, Fine, and refused to eat. I turned the conversation to work, treating her as just another employee, demanding more from her than any other staff member.
Soon my business began to faltercontracts fell through, partners left. I blamed Daisy for the downturn, and in a heated split ensured she walked away with nothing. Within a day I had thrown her out.
Three years later, a location tag on a photo revealed that Daisy now lived in a cottage near Windsor, owned by some wealthy benefactor. I thought, I have a meeting with an investor nearby. Maybe Ill swing by, see whats become of her. I sipped my coffee, still uneasy about a grey mouse turning into a rose.
Out of the blue Olivia sent a voice note: Ian, we should break up. Ive met someone else. Ill have my friend pick up my things. I erupted, I paid for your trip! How dare you! My angry reply was full of insults.
She replied calmly, Youre emotional, Ian. Ill block you for a while; drama ruins my skin. She then blocked my number.
Rejected by the investor and in a sour mood, I drove to the upscale estate where Daisy lived. After a few hours in the car, smoking a pack, a luxury car pulled up and Daisy stepped out, looking surprised.
What are you doing here? she asked, opening the gate after I knocked three times.
I just wanted to see how youre doing, I muttered.
She sneered, You banned me from my passion. I worked for you free of charge for two years, cooked, cleaned, kept the house, believed in you when everyone else wrote me off, then you threw me out in one day.
Im sorry, I tried to sound sincere, Ive realized a lot while you were gone. It was all a mess.
She laughed, You stopped me from writing. Ive since returned to screenwriting, sold a couple of pilots, and now my scripts are on the main TV channels. Im one of the countrys most recognised writers.
I stared at the spacious living room, envy gnawing at me. Whos supporting you? I asked bitterly.
No one. I bought everything myself, she replied, moving toward the kitchen.
I followed, shouting, Youre lying! She placed a glass of water before me. How could you change so much in three years? How did you earn enough to live like this? I asked, bewildered.
She smiled, I went back to writing, turned it into screenplays, and finally got taken seriously. She lifted her chin, confident.
I felt the old bitterness rise. Im the one who set you straight, gave you the push you needed. Half of your success is thanks to me, I muttered. Youll never get anything from me now, and its time you left.
She stood, pointed to the door, and said, Good luck, Ian. I lunged, demanding she hand over the money she kept hidden. I grabbed her elbow, dragging her toward the sofa. She winced, Let go, it hurts! I snarled, A grey mouse stays a grey mouse. I threatened, Tell me where the safe is or you wont leave alive. She looked at me calmly and said, Lonely women get cats Then she smiled, But Im not just any woman.
I brandished a fireplace log, eyes bloodshot. Give me the cash or Ill kill you. She laughed, You think you can scare me? I have dogs nowChilli and Willy. Two large Dobermans stepped forward, their tongues lolling, eyes fixed on me. Chilli, Willy, guard! she shouted.
The dogs lunged. I tried to flee, but the hallway gave me only a few steps before they pinned me. The scene turned chaoticshouts, a crash, the police arriving, sirens wailing. The houses security cameras captured everything. I was later given a suspended sentence and, for good measure, I never again set foot near Daisys world.
Today Daisy is thriving, reportedly married to a talented director, expecting a child. People say that behind every successful woman stands a man who broke her heart. And that the best revenge is to prove you can succeed without him. Whether thats true or not, Ive come to understand one thing: if you truly believe in yourself, nothing can hold you back.
Lesson learned: control and possession are fleeting; respect for anothers ambition is the only lasting strength.
