Dear Diary,
Divorce isnt unheard of, yet when I married Lucy I thought it would be forever. She seemed the very picture of femininity and charm, and I loved her wholly. Not long after we welcomed our son Oliver, I fell for him as wellso fiercely that I could hardly imagine loving anyone else more than my wife. It turned out that such love can indeed exist.
Our happiness, however, was brief. When Oliver turned three and started at nursery, Lucy went back to work. It was there she met the man who would later upend my life. She fell deeply in loveperhaps even loved me, but not in the same way I loved her. She never cheated; instead, one day she simply said she was leaving.
Paul, dont think Ive been unfaithful, she wrote. I truly hoped this feeling would pass, but it hasnt. Tom loves me, and Im sorry
I could say nothing. There was no point in begging her to stay; she had made up her mind. Arguing would have been useless. She had been honest, left on decent terms, and for Olivers sake we both agreed to keep a civil relationship.
We divorced, and I was left on my own. Lucy kept telling me I would find someone who truly appreciated me, but I was wary after being burnt once. I decided I wouldnt let another heartbreak happen.
Oliver grew, and we saw each other often. Lucy and I managed everything amicably; she even waived any claim for maintenance, saying, If you can, Paul, send what you can. I felt a pang of guilt for the way things had turned out, but I knew a child needs a lot of moneyclothing, activities, meals that arent cheap these days. So each month I transferred what I could.
It was Oliver who first told me Lucy was pregnant. I didnt know what I feltbitter? Jealous? Pain? Perhaps a strange relief that she seemed happy. Yet there was no cause for celebration. When her baby girl arrived, Tom abandoned them, off with another woman, leaving Lucy alone. They were never married, which should have raised alarms, but love had blinded her.
I helped where I could, providing what little money Toms father could spare. When I collected Oliver, I could also look after Lucys daughter for an hour, drive her to the doctor, even stay with her and Oliver when Lucy had to rush off. We never planned a reunion; I understood things would never be as they were, and Lucy felt it would be unfair to me. Still, we stayed friendly for Olivers sake.
When the little girl turned two and Oliver started school, tragedy struck: Lucy was killed by an intoxicated driver at a bus stop. The car swerved into the crowd, killing three people, Lucy among them. The news hit me hard; I still cared for her, not as a lover but as someone who had been close to my heart. Grief had no place, thoughwe had to arrange her funeral and console Oliver.
Thats when I learned Lucys father had no intention of taking his granddaughter. Before the funeral he said bluntly, I dont want her; I have another family. I asked, Shes my daughters, how can you? He shrugged, Shes small; someone else will find a home for her. He suggested Lucys sister might, but I knew her sister Maggie was an alcoholic living in a dilapidated cottage in a remote village, caring for three children of her ownnot a suitable guardian.
Olivers aunt, who had been looking after the girl temporarily, also declined, saying, Im almost fifty, my own kids are grown. I cant take in a toddler. Sleep fled me that night. Veraher name was Elsie, a name you rarely hear outside Englandwas not my blood, yet no father would claim her, no decent relatives stepped forward, and a childrens home seemed the only option. I feared she might end up with people who wouldnt care for her.
The next morning Oliver asked, Dad, will Uncle Tom take Elsie? I answered honestly, No, he cant. I believed the bitter truth was kinder than a lie. Then where will she go? he pressed. Probably a childrens home. He wondered if theyd read stories to her at night, give her something other than bland porridge, and whether we could visit. His sincere concern warmed me; it reminded me how much he loved his little sister.
I proposed, What if Elsie lived with us? Olivers eyes lit up. Really? Even though Im not her father? I said, We can try. After navigating the bureaucracy, I secured guardianship. When I collected Elsie from the neighbour, she ran into my arms and clung tightlyshe knew me better than her own father ever did.
Seeing her brother for the first time, she smiled instantly. She was tiny and didnt yet grasp that her mother was gone, but that would make it easier for her to bear the loss than for Oliver to lose his sister. Within months Elsie began calling me Dad, and I never corrected her. I had taken on the responsibility of raising her, so I was, in effect, her father.
Her biological father barely sent occasional, modest sums, but I needed nothing from him; I could manage on my own. Soon Elsie was settled in a local nursery, a place that understood our situation. She grew to resemble Lucy in looks and spirit. Oliver and I loved each other fiercely, and each day I felt I had made the right choice. I loved Elsie as if she were my own child, and strangers would never guess she wasnt.
When Elsie turned six, I finally met someone I truly cared for. I had sworn never to marry again, never to let another person into my life, yet love found its way. My new partner embraced both Oliver and Elsie. Elsie, after a while, began calling her Mum, for she had no memory of Lucy. Oliver treated his stepmother with the utmost respect. I asked for nothing more from my son.
I never lied to Elsie or to Oliver. The girl knew I wasnt her biological father, yet she accepted me as such. As she grew older she understood what I had doneafter the tragedy I took not only my own son but also an unrelated girl and raised her as family.
One evening, after she finished school and was preparing for university, Elsie came to me.
Thank you, Dad, she said.
For what, love? I replied, smiling.
For not giving up on me, for giving me a happy childhood, for keeping me with my brother, for being the father I needed and for bringing Mum into my life.
Tears welled up, but I smiled through them.
Thank you, Elsie. And thank you for coming into my life. I finally have a real, loving daughter.
Lesson learned: The bonds we choose can be stronger than those were born with, and opening your heart to someone in need can bring unexpected joy and purpose.
