04October2025
Dear Diary,
I thought we were friends, yet youve taken my husband away.
You dont get it! You just wont understand! Poppys voice rose, and she slammed the sketchbook shut. To you its all just childs play, meaningless doodles!
I didnt mean it like that, Poppy, Megan said wearily, pressing her palms to her temples. The migraine that had begun at breakfast now hammered at the back of her skull. Im only trying to say that a designers career is unpredictableorders one day, none the next. An accountant is a steady loaf of bread, always reliable.
Thats my loaf, not yours! Poppy leapt from her chair, eyes flashing. I dont want to spend my life hunched over numbers. I want to create, to bring beauty into the world. Aunt Suzie gets me; shes the only one who believes in my talent.
The mention of Suzie made Megans chest tighten. Again Suzieher best friend, her rock in the darkest times, now the one her daughter seemed to value more than her own mother.
Suzie lives in another world, love. She runs a successful salon, talks about highbrow ideas. You and I scrape by from paycheck to paycheck.
Thats exactly why I cant live like that! Poppy shouted, grabbing her coat and bolting for the door. I refuse to spend my life like that!
The front door slammed, and a ringing silence settled over the cramped twobed flat. Megan sank into a chair, cradling her head. Each argument drained her more. At fortyfive, with the last ten years shouldering everything alone, she felt the weight of a life turned upside down after Ian, her husband and Poppys father, walked out, leaving unpaid bills and a vague, Sorry, were strangers now. She survived on a modest library job, odd nighttime typing gigs, and gave up everything so Poppy never wanted for anything.
All the while Suzie was there. Theyd been schoolmates, sharing a desk. Bright, selfassured Suzie and quiet, homebound Megan. When the divorce hit, Suzie kept Megan from drowning in despair. Shed pop round with groceries, drag her out for walks, listen for hours to her sobs. Well get through this, love, shed say, hugging her tightly. Hell kick himself when he realises the woman hes lost.
Megan clung to that hope. She picked herself up for the sake of her daughter. Suzie became almost familygodmother to Poppy, the Aunt Suzie who always understood.
Later that evening, Megan slipped to the window. The city lights of Manchester flickered below. Somewhere out there, her angry daughter was probably heading to Suzies cosy studio in the city centre, where the air smelled of expensive coffee and haircare products, soft music played, and conversations drifted to art without the nagging worry of utility bills.
The kitchen phone buzzed. A message from Suzie: Poppys here. Dont worry, Ill talk to her. All will be well. A surge of irritation mixed with gratitude rose in Megan. Part of her was relieved that her daughter was safe, part of her was angry that Suzie again played the peacemaker, as if Megan couldnt manage her own child.
She brewed a cheap tea bag, sat at the table, and stared at the old framed photograph: the three of themMegan, Ian, and a tiny Poppy in her armsyoung and happy. How long ago that was. Ian sometimes it seemed she could barely recall his face: tall, darkhaired, cheeky wrinkles, a lover of jazz, strong coffee, and travel books. He left one night, suitcase in hand, saying he needed time alone. A week later he called to say hed never be back.
The memory of Suzies soothing words resurfaced: Hes a fool, love, just a fool. Youll find someone better. Yet Megan had never found anyone; her world revolved around her daughter.
The next few days passed in tense silence. Poppy came home from school, ate, and shut herself in her room. Megan didnt dare start a conversation, fearing another clash. On Saturday morning Suzie called.
Hey, Meg. Ive got a crisisan inspectors due, and my cleaners ill. Can you swing by and help tidy up? Ill owe you one. And maybe you can patch things up with Poppy; she was about to pop over.
Megan hesitated, feeling guilty and obliged, but the thought of finally talking to her daughter on neutral ground tipped the balance. Alright, Ill be there in an hour, she replied.
Suzies Salon Cleopatra greeted her with mirrored walls and the scent of floral perfume. Suzie, immaculate in a sharp trouser suit, met her at the entrance. Meg, my saviour! she beamed, planting a kiss on Megans cheek. Just change into something comfortable. I need the main hall dusted and the floor mopped. Ill sort the paperwork. Poppy will be here soon.
Megan slipped into an old tee in the back room and began sweeping. She didnt envy Suzies success; shed earned every bit of it through sheer drive. Yet standing in that realm of beauty and abundance amplified Megans own unease.
She was finishing the floor when Poppy stormed in, eyes narrowed at the sight of her mother with a mop. Megan, we need to talk, she said quietly.
About what? About giving up my dream and signing up for a boring college? Megan answered.
No. About us.
At that moment Suzie emerged from her office, two phones in handher own and a clientsboth charging.
Ladies, dont argue! she chirped, flashing her disarming smile. Megan, dont be cross with her; shes just a kid with big ambitions. Poppy, mum only wants the best for you. Lets have a cup of tea. Ill make yours with a splash of cinnamon.
She set the phones on the reception desk and slipped away. Megan exhaled, feeling that nothing would change. Poppy buried herself in her phone. Megan glanced at the devices on the desk; one screen lit up with a short message from a contact simply signed I. Missing your coffee. And you. A tiny red heart blinked.
Megans heart skipped. I. Ian? She shook her head, dismissing the strange notion. Suzie had mentioned a new romancea complicated, divorced, but fascinating manbut it could not be Ian. Still, a cold shiver ran down her spine.
The conversation with Poppy never materialised that day. They sipped tea while Suzie babbled about the latest haircuts, Poppy nodding, Megan silent, feeling an invisible wall rise between her and the people she cared for most. The message replayed in her mind.
Later, Megan dug out an old address book, found Ians number, a relic she hadnt dialled in years. She almost called, wondering what to say. She put the phone back.
A few days later Suzie invited them to the cinema. They watched a lighthearted romance in a dim hall, Megan stealing glances at Suzie, who kept checking her phone. Once she saw the same initial I. in a message header.
After the film they stopped at a café.
Oh, Meg, Im over the moon! Suzie gushed, stirring sugar into her coffee. I think Im truly in love. Hes solid, smart, makes me feel like Im behind a stone wall.
Were happy for you, Aunt Suzie, Poppy replied. Who is he? Do we know him?
Just a private matter, Suzie said hastily, eyes dropping. Hes not from our circle. We met by chance. Hes recently moved back to town after years up north.
North Megan remembered Ian had taken a rotational job in Sheffield after the divorce. A coincidence? Too many coincidences. A chill crawled up her spine.
Whats his name? she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
Ian, Suzie answered, then quickly changed the subject. By the way, Poppy, theres a spot at a prestigious art school opening. I can fund it if you like.
Megans mind raced. Ian. The same name. Her dear friend, who had soothed her after the split, now dating her exhusband? The picture shed painted of Suzie turned into a grotesque sketch. She realised Suzie was pulling Poppy away, feeding her impossible dreams, while secretly reclaiming what shed lost.
Mom, whats wrong? Poppys voice snapped her out of the fog. You look pale.
Nothing, Megan murmured. Just a headache. Lets go home.
Back in the flat, she locked herself in the bathroom, turning the tap on so Poppy couldnt hear her sobs. The tears were bitter, scorching. It wasnt just betrayal by a friend; it was the sting of a love that had died long ago, the loss of a friendship that had once been her lifeline. She wept for her naïveté, for years of blind faith in a man who had been playing both sides.
She knew she had to act, but how? A public outburst? Accusations? That would be too easy, too humiliating. She decided to wait for undeniable proof.
A week later Suzies birthday came, celebrated at a countryside restaurant, and she invited Megan and Poppy.
Dont miss it, Meg! Ill introduce you to my Ian. Youll love him! Suzie chirped over the phone.
Megan felt her breath catch.
Alright, Suzie. Well be there, she replied.
The day passed in a haze. She chose a dress, did her hair, applied makeup, and stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognising the woman with feverish, glittering eyes. Poppy, oblivious, twirled nearby, excited for the party.
The restaurant was elegantlive piano, white tablecloths, welldressed guests. Suzie, radiant in a silver gown, fluttered from table to table. Spotting them, she rushed over.
Finally! Come in, my dears! Meg, you look stunning! Let me introduce Ian! Come here!
Ian stepped forward, hair touched with silver at the temples, the same Ian Megan had once known. He froze when his eyes met hers, a complex mix of surprise, shame, and fear flashing across his face.
Megan? he stammered.
Good afternoon, she said coldly, meeting his gaze squarely.
Suzies eyes darted between them, bewildered.
You you know each other? she asked.
More than that, Megan replied, a faint smile curling. Hes my exhusband. Poppys father.
The room fell silent. The music seemed to stop. All eyes were on the three of them. Suzies face turned ashen. Poppy glanced between her mother, Ian, and her beloved Aunt Suzie, bewilderment written across her features.
Mother, is this true? she whispered.
Yes, love. Hes your father.
Megan stepped toward Suzie, who clenched Ians hand as if fearing he might vanish.
Happy birthday, friend, Megan said softly, but firmly. I thought we were friends. Turns out you not only comforted me after I was broken, you also helped a man I once loved disappear. How easy was that? Courting my husbands wife behind my back and then advising me on how to survive his betrayal?
I I didnt know how to say it, Suzie stammered. It just happened We met six months ago, he never told me
Hes your husbands ex? Megan interjected, incredulous. You knew everything.
She turned to Ian.
You never stood up to my words. Youre a cowardrunning from one woman to another. Nothing changes.
She took Poppys hand. The girls eyes widened, brimming with tears.
Lets get out of here, love. This isnt our place.
They walked through the banquet hall, guests watching in stunned silence. At the doors, Megan glanced back. Suzie stood alone, bewildered, while Ian lowered his head, refusing to meet their eyes.
The drive home was quiet. In the flat, Poppy broke down.
Mom, how could Aunt Suzie I trusted her! And Dad?
Megan held her close, smoothing her hair. Shh, darling, shh. People sometimes do terrible things, even those we love. The important thing is that we have each other.
That night they stayed up at the kitchen table, Megan recounting her life with Ian, her friendship with Suzie, without hiding anything. Poppy listened, her childlike hurt softening into adult understanding.
The next day Suzie cut all contact. Megan ignored the flood of apologies and pleas that followed. A few days later Ian appeared at their door.
Megan, we need to talk, he said, eyes downcast.
Theres nothing to discuss, she snapped. Leave.
But Poppyshes my daughter!
You only remembered that now? Ten years you didnt care. Go, Ian. Dont come back.
She slammed the door shut, leaning against it, heart poundingnot from pain, but from relief. It felt as if a massive stone shed carried for years had finally dropped.
Life moved on, though it was hard. The void left by Suzies absence was hard to fill. In the evenings, her hand would reach for the phone, tempted to call a friend, to gossip, but she stopped herself. That friend was gone.
Her relationship with Poppy changed; they grew closer than ever. Poppy matured overnight, stopped demanding the impossible, began helping around the house, and even started a small sidehustlepainting portraits online.
One evening Poppy placed a bundle of cash on the kitchen table.
Here, Mum. Its for the prep course. I earned it myself.
Megan looked at her daughters earnest, grownup face, tears welling. Youre my pride, she whispered.
No, Mum, youre my pride, Poppy replied, hugging her tightly. Youre the strongest.
Megan held her daughter, realizing she hadnt lost everything. Yes, shed lost a friend and a set of fantasies, but shed gained something far richerher childs respect and love. That was the most important thing. The future will be tough, honest, and hardwon, but together well manage, just the two of us.
