**Diary Entry**
Watching the rain drum against the window, droplets trailing like tears, I sat listening to *”What Can You Do? You’ve Met Another”* by Vera Lynn. Unbidden, my own tears fellI barely noticed them. That song always cuts too deep, a cruel echo of my own story.
When life wounds you unfairly and leaves you powerless, even a melody can feel like solace.
I live in a small market town where everyone knows each other. I came here years ago from the countryside to study nursing and never left.
*”Stay in the city after you graduate, love,”* Mum had urged. *”Not because we dont want you, but theres nothing for you here. The young all leave. Find yourself a local lad, settle down.”*
*”I know, Mum,”* Id replied. *”Ill miss you, but its time to stand on my own feet.”*
So here I stayed, working as a nurse at the local hospital. I was pretty thenthick dark hair, blue eyes, full lips. One morning, as I entered the mens ward with an IV drip, I noticed a young man with his arm in plaster, watching me intently.
*”Good morning,”* I greeted the room, though he seemed to think Id spoken only to him.
Hed been admitted the night beforeanother nurse had been on duty then. Michael worked at the towns only factory, sent there fresh out of university. A clumsy slip on the factory floor had landed him here.
I set up his drip in silence, aware of his gaze.
*”All done. Rest now,”* I said, turning to leave.
*”Will you come back?”* he blurted. *”Whats your name?”*
*”Im on shiftof course Ill be back. Its Emily,”* I replied, smiling as I left.
He grinned to himself. *Emilywell, this fracture might not be so bad after all.*
I liked him too, though Id never show it first. But his lingering glances told me enough.
*Still, it means nothing. A bloke like himhandsome, cleverprobably has a girl already.*
I watched his visitorsfriends, colleaguesbut never a sweetheart. A small relief. Meanwhile, Michael dreamt of walks together once he was discharged.
We talked oftenin the corridor, in stolen moments. He told me about his flat, his job. I shared my cramped digs in the nurses quarters.
He was discharged but lingered at the clinic, and soon we were courtingthough it took him over two years to propose.
*”Em, weve been together ages. Lets get married.”*
*”Alright,”* I said at once, laughing. He knew Id been waiting.
Our wedding was simplejust his sisters and my mum. My friends envied me: *”Youve landed a proper catchclever, handsome, kind.”*
We moved into his flat, fixed it up, had two daughters.
*”Id like a son,”* hed say, but I refusedtwo were enough.
Life was good. Holidays at the seaside, summers in the countryside with Mum. Years passed without a hint of trouble.
But his job grew demandingcall-outs on weekends, endless stress.
*”Im quitting,”* he snapped one night. *”Im sick of never resting.”*
His boss barely let him goMichael was too skilled. He found another job, but it meant travel.
*”Sorry, love. The pays better, but Ill be away sometimes.”*
*”Well manage,”* I said. *”Its not like youll vanish for months.”*
But soon, the trips grew longer. Then came the drinking, the late nights.
Fifteen years in, I confronted him. *”Whats happened to you? You used to hate this!”*
*”Leave it. Lifes dullIm just having fun,”* hed mutter.
Then the whispers started.
*”Emily, you cant be blind,”* my colleague Tanya said one day. *”My friend Ritas been seeing himsaunas, weekends. He visits her first after trips.”*
I confronted him. We fought. He shouted: *”Im sick of your nagging!”*
The final straw was when he hit me.
*”I want a divorce,”* I said, numb.
As he packed his things, Vera Lynns song played again*”What Can You Do? Youve Met Another.”* The words twisted like a knife.
*”Im leaving,”* he said calmly. *”The flats yours and the girls.”*
The door clicked shut. I thought I had no tears leftI was wrong.
Time passed. The divorce went through. Some pitied me; others feigned sympathy. But I endured.
Years later, our youngest daughter married. At the wedding, I overheard Michael advising her new husband:
*”Listen, matestick with one family. However hard it gets, stay. Learn from my mistakes.”*
I thought, *So hes tasted regret too.*
Now, retired and older, we sometimes cross paths in town. What once felt like tragedy is now just lifesometimes even a wry smile.
But that song? I still cry. Though now, its just sentiment.
