22October2025 London
Ive always tried to be the steady rock for Olivia, the one who could wrap his arms around her shoulders and whisper that brighter days lay ahead. Dont worry, love, I said, pulling her close, we still have plenty of time. One day well be parents, and our child will look a bit like both of us. I promise, itll happen. She nodded, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, hoping my words were truth. Inside, however, a cold weight had settled, making each breath feel shallow.
Three years of marriage. Three years of trying, hoping, being let down. Three years of endless appointments at the NHS, countless blood tests, scans that all came back the same nothing.
I know, Olivia murmured, though even she seemed unsure of that certainty.
I kissed her forehead, the warmth of the gesture barely reaching her. It now seemed I was merely wearing a mask, hiding disappointment and anger behind a smile.
At first I kept my promises. I was there, supportive, caring. I brought in fresh daffodils for no particular reason, whipped up a full English breakfast on lazy weekends, held her close when she wept into the pillow after yet another negative pregnancy test. I was gentle, patient, loving.
But slowly, almost imperceptibly, things shifted. Work began to stretch longer, then trips for meetings grew more frequent. Mornings without a hug became the norm, and evenings on the sofa turned into me retreating to the other side of the couch. Our conversations shrank, becoming curt and formal, reduced to oneword answers and vacant gazes. Olivia tried to convince herself it was temporary that I was simply worn out by the endless tension, that wed pull through if we just waited a little longer.
And we waited. A year and a half slipped by.
One evening, as Olivia was washing dishes after dinner, I set the tone too seriously to ignore. Olivia, we need to talk, I said.
She froze, a plate halfway to the sink. The seriousness in my voice was unmistakable. She turned slowly toward me.
What about? she asked, her own voice sounding foreign to her ears.
Im filing for divorce.
Four words. Four simple syllables that shattered her world. The plate slipped from her trembling hands, smashing on the tiled floor. She stared at me, eyes wide, trying to process the blow.
What? she gasped.
Sorry, I said, looking away. I cant do this any longer. Im exhausted exhausted of waiting, of hoping. This isnt the life I imagined. I want children, Olivia, a proper family. But were no longer a couple; were just two people sharing a roof. Its time to stop pretending everythings fine.
Olivia sank onto a chair, legs giving out, her mind a hollow echo. The emptiness was overwhelming.
I dont blame you, I continued softly. It just happened this way. I cant keep pretending Im content. Im sorry. I turned and left the kitchen, hearing the soft click of her bedroom door as I gathered my things. Then the quiet settled over the flat like a heavy blanket.
Days blurred into one another. Olivia kept going to work, cooking for herself, tidying the flat, doing everything she had always done. Yet inside her was a yawning void, a loneliness that clung like cold fog you cant shake off.
She blamed herself for the collapse, for not holding the family together, for not giving me what I wanted. The only bright spot in her darkness was Lily, a friend from university. Lily and I had been inseparable through college, sharing secrets, dreaming about our futures. When I left, Lily was there, bringing scones and tea, sitting beside Olivia, offering a silent hug. She never lectured, never gave advice, just stayed.
Everything will be alright, Olivia, Lily would say, smoothing Olivias back. Youre strong; youll get through this. Olivia nodded, though the words didnt fully reach her. Lilys presence was a reminder she wasnt completely alone.
They met weekly, usually at a little café on Camden Street or someones flat. Lily talked about her job, her husband, her plans. Olivia listened, trying to muster happiness for her friend while her own chest tightened with pain. Lilys life seemed perfect a loving husband, a stable career, the sort of future Olivia felt slipping through her fingers.
Gradually, Lilys replies grew sparse. She found excuses to cancel at the last minute, her smile seemed forced, her eyes darted away. She hurried away, citing urgent errands.
It wasnt just Lily. Their whole circle seemed to drift. The group chat fell silent; no one messaged Olivia first. Invitations stopped. She felt as if shed become invisible, ignored by everyone she once counted on.
Olivia tried to rationalise it. Maybe theyre just busy, she told herself. Everyone has their own life. Yet a chill of anxiety settled in her chest, refusing to leave.
Then Lilys birthday arrived. Olivia remembered it vividly; theyd always celebrated together since university cake, champagne, gifts, laughter until the early hours. This year, however, no invitation, no call, nothing at all. Olivia waited all day, hoping it was an oversight, but the phone stayed mute.
In the evening, the frustration became too much. Olivia bought Lilys favourite cashmere scarf, wrapped it in pretty paper, and drove to Lilys flat to simply wish her a happy birthday, to show she still cared.
From the stairwell, muffled music and voices drifted out. The party was in full swing. Olivia paused, gathering courage, then knocked. The noise continued inside. After a minute, the door swung open.
Lily stood there, elegant in a cocktail dress, a glass of prosecco in hand. Her smile froze as she saw Olivia, eyes widening in surprise.
Olivia, Lily breathed. What are you doing here?
I came to wish you happy birthday, Olivia replied, offering the wrapped gift, trying to smile despite the knot in her throat. Happy birthday.
Lily didnt take the present. She stood, blocking the doorway, a look of discomfort on her face.
Thanks, but Lily faltered.
Why didnt you invite me? Olivias composure cracked. We always celebrated together. Whats happened? Why am I being ignored?
Lily looked away, ran a hand through her hair. Laughter echoed from the living room. Olivia glanced inside and saw me my former husband standing at the kitchen table, arms around a young, blonde woman, laughing. He leaned in and kissed her, a long, tender kiss.
Olivias breath caught; the world tilted. I was there, at Lilys birthday, with someone else. She hadnt invited her.
Lily grabbed Olivias hand and pulled her toward the stairwell, shutting the door behind them.
Olivia, listen Lily began, voice strained.
Explain Explain whats happening. Why is he here? Why didnt you invite me? Olivia demanded.
Lily sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. We kind of grew close after the split. You know, he was my best friends husband. We talked a lot, and after the divorce we kept in touch. Hes a good bloke, fun to be with. We didnt want to cut him off just because things ended. Its not that simple.
Olivias face went colder. You chose his side, she said, voice trembling. Weve been friends since university, Lily. After all these years, how could you?
Olivia, it isnt that black and white, Lily crossed her arms. Being with him is easier. He doesnt dwell on the past, he doesnt complain. Honestly, nobody wanted to hear your endless grievances any longer. We were all tired of the heavy atmosphere. We thought it would be easier for everyone if we moved on.
Lily hurried her words, as if wanting to finish quickly. Besides, hes settled now. Hes in a new relationship, soon to be married, expecting a child. Everythings perfect for him. Meeting him here would be awkward for all of us, so we thought it best to keep distance.
Olivia nodded mechanically, each word breaking something inside her. Her ex would soon be a father, with a new family the very life shed once dreamed of with him. She realised she no longer mattered to anyone.
I understand, Olivia whispered, handing Lily the scarf. Here, take it. Happy birthday.
Lily accepted the box without looking at her.
For all these years you could have said this to my face, Olivia said, meeting Lilys gaze. Not hide behind excuses when the truth finally surfaced. I thought we were honest with each other, but I was wrong.
Lily stayed silent, eyes fixed on the floor, clutching the gift.
Happy birthday, Olivia finished, turning toward the stairs. Enjoy your celebration. From me
Her steps echoed down the stairwell, each footfall a hollow thud. She clutched the banister, legs wobbling, breath shallow. She just wanted to reach the street.
Cold night air hit her lungs as she stepped out onto the pavement. Tears shed held back for months finally burst forth, hot and relentless, streaming down her cheeks. She walked aimlessly through the empty streets, sobbing for the loss, the betrayal, the loneliness.
In less than a year shed lost a husband and, as it turned out, every friend shed once leaned on. The old saying about true friends revealing themselves in hardship resurfaced in her mind. It seemed there were no true friends left, perhaps never were.
She wiped her eyes and headed home, to a flat where no one awaited her. Yet a faint thought lingered: this isnt forever. And perhaps, as they say, everything happens for the best.
Lesson learned: clinging to what once was can blind you to the truth, but letting go opens the door to a future you never imagined.
