**Diary Entry 12th June**
*Shell regret this.*
Thats all I could think when Emily dropped the bombshelldivorce papers, just like that. Yesterday, everything was fine. She was washing my socks, ironing my shirts, playing the dutiful wife. Today? A solicitors letter on the kitchen table. No warning, no reason! I worked, never laid a hand on her, hardly went out, drank moderately. What more did she bloody want?
Has she found some other bloke? I fumed. Thats it, isnt it? Some posh tosser with a fat wallet. Well, shell crawl back. Mark my words. Shell be on her knees, begging. And by then, itll be too late.
While I seethed, she rattled off the same tired speech shed been spouting for years:
*Im exhausted, carrying everything aloneworking, cleaning, cooking, looking after Oliver. You cost more than you contribute! When you disappeared for three days last month, I realised how much easier life is without you. The house stays clean. No greasy fry-ups. No beer cans. No laundry mountains. I dont even have to scrub the stove as often! Im done. Im not your maid anymore.*
Then came the guilt trip about Oliver.
*When was the last time you read him a story? Took him to the park? Bathed him? Do you even know his teachers name? His school? His birthday? Youre a stranger in your own home. All he sees is his dad passed out on the sofa with a lager. What kind of example is that?*
Same old nagging. Every night, like clockwork, while I ate straight from the pan. Just womens whingeing, I thought. Bored housewife drama.
And nowdivorce. Out of nowhere.
*Shell regret it. Thinks shell land some rich bloke? A thirty-year-old single mum? Good luck. Shell be crying for me in a week.*
Ive packed your things, she said coldly. Get out.
Fine, I muttered, shoving a sausage in my mouth. But dont expect me back.
I gave her every chance to change her mindlingered by the door, shuffled my bags, made a show of tying my laces. Nothing. Stubborn cow. I left, annoyed I hadnt finished the sausages.
Mums place, then. More nagging. *What happened? Whyd she throw you out? It doesnt make sense!*
It does to her, I snapped. I worked, brought money home. Wasnt enough. Always wanted moreboots, coats, holidays. Probably found some banker bloke. Thats why she kicked me out.
Mum rang Emily. No luck. No recall.
*No matter. Shell come crawling. Whod want her with a kid in tow?* I consoled myself, grabbing discounted lager at Tesco.
At court, Emily looked different. Hair done, makeup on. Smiling. Nervously told the judge thered been no marriage for years. *Did everything alone. No help. No involvement with Oliver.* The usual sob story. My hands shookneeded a drink but held off.
The judgesome smug womanasked, Do you drink excessively?
Hardly! I scoffed. Couple pints after work. Stress today, innit? Wife left me.
She nodded, gave us three months to reconcile. I eyed Emily. *Still not regretting it?*
God, you reek of booze, she wrinkled her nose.
*Fine. Wait and see. Three months alone, shell be desperate.* I pictured her begging. Me, refusing. Coming back on *my* terms.
But she never called. Never texted. Pretended I didnt exist.
*Mustve found someone.* Yet Facebook showed nothing. Friends said no.
At the next hearing, Emily was stern, no smiles. Not backing down. *Waiting for me to grovel.* Not a chance.
Thenjust like thatdivorced.
The awkward bit? The judge asked about Oliver. Emily pounced.
He doesnt even know his sons birthday.
Oliver William, whens your sons birthday? the judge smirked.
I fumbled for the paperwork.
No peeking, she sneered. Bloody women in power.
Third of June! I blurted.
Its *today*, Emily laughed coldly. Sixth of June. Hes seven.
Did you even wish him happy birthday on the third? the judge mocked.
Matriarchy nonsense. I stayed silent.
Any objections to custody arrangements?
No! I snapped.
Of course, she got Oliver. *And now alimony.* But surely*surely*shed break down now. Her life was over! Divorced, single mum, no prospects.
Then I saw her. Laughing. *Laughing!* On the courthouse steps, chatting with some friend.
Tanya! Fancy seeing you here!
Just wrapping up some paperwork. You?
Finally free! She grinned.
*Grinned.*
I stormed over. Thought youd be in tears. Dont you care?
Care about what?
You ruined everything! Youll regret this! Ill sue for the house! For Oliver!
House is my nans, she said calmly. And since when do you care about Oliver?
I ranted. Broke the family. Stole my son. Left me. Found someone else. Die alone with forty cats.
Long after shed gone, I kept muttering:
*Shell regret this. The flat reeked of stale lager and burnt toast. I hadnt left in days. Her number stayed blocked, the court papers unopened on the floor. Then, on a Tuesday, a letter cameOlivers school photo inside. He was smiling, arms around a man I didnt recognise. On the back, neat handwriting: *Happy 7th Birthday, Daddy. Love, Oliver.*
I stared at it. Swallowed hard. Poured another drink.
And for the first time, I wondered if maybejust maybeit wasnt her whod regret it.
