**BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER**
«Emily, as your husband, Ill dare to set one condition. Lets forget this silly fling with your overeager lover. But I ask one thing: give me a son.» I sounded pathetic, even to myself.
«Alright, James, Ill try,» my wife replied hesitantly. The agreement weighed heavily on her.
…Emily and I had raised three daughters: twelve-year-old Lucy, nine-year-old Sophie, and eight-year-old Gemma. Where this twenty-year-old dandy, Oliver, had come from, Id never understand. Hed torn my life apart. As they say, its not the years that age youits the heartbreak.
The girls were bewildered. Their once-loving, attentive mother had become distant, overly polished, like a ghost haunting her own life. The house fell into disarraydust bunnies rolled across the floors, dishes piled up unwashed, and I grew snappish, lost in desperate schemes to lure my straying wife back home.
…It had all started six months earlier.
A chance meeting on a cruise, apparently. Emily had taken the girls to the seaside and returned distracted, answering questions vaguely, staring right through me, no longer smothering the girls in hugs. A nasty suspicion crept insomething was off. A crack had formed in our marriage, but I said nothing. Exposing her infidelity would have hurt too much. Time would tell. And oh, it did.
«Dad, Mum spent the whole holiday arm-in-arm with Oliver,» Sophie blurted out innocently.
«Care to elaborate, love?» I asked, going pale but keeping my voice steady.
«Well, this man kept hanging around at the beach. Mum laughed at all his jokes. He even saw us off at the station. Smart dresser. Younger than you.» Sophie drove the final nail into my heart.
…Impossible. Just a fleeting holiday romance, nothing more. Surely this flashy young charmer wouldnt throw himself at a thirty-something woman with three kids? Werent there enough girls along the promenade? A whistle away, tanned and eager for adventure.
But I was wrong.
Emily and Oliver were tangled up for life.
No pleading, no tears, no appeals to conscience could save our marriage. My peace was shattered forever.
True to our bargain, Emily bore a sonWilliam. But he never saw me as his father. I barely laid eyes on him. Oliver raised him. Emily snatched up their one-year-old boy and left for good. I stayed behind with three daughters, drowning in despair, ice settling in my chest.
«Dad, if Mums gone, well cook for you, clean, do the laundrywell take care of you,» little Gemma whispered, dabbing my tears with her sleeve. It was the only time I ever let myself break.
After the storm passed, I rallied. Three little ladies depended on me. I taught them the ways of running a homesometimes scolding, sometimes scaring them silly, occasionally upsetting them without meaning to. But the house grew tidy again. Lucy adored washing up, Sophie swept with gusto, and Gemma waged war on dust. I managed something vaguely edible for meals.
Emily visited occasionally, only twisting the knife deeper. The girls would weep for days after. So I asked her to stay awayfor their sake.
«James, I love my daughters. Are you asking me to abandon them for your comfort?» she snapped.
«No, Emily, for theirs. If you love them, let them grow up before they decide whether to see you.» I hoped I sounded firm.
«Fine. Maybe youre right. I cry after seeing them too. Time will tell. Goodbye, James.» With a final kiss for the girls, she walked out of our lives.
…As teenagers, my daughters loathed their mother and half-brother William. I think they envied himhe had a real mum, one who doted on him, while they had scraps.
…But when they marriedLucy and Sophie with four children each, Gemma with threetheir anger softened. Time soothed the sting, though the bitterness lingered.
I live alone now. Thereve been women over the years, but I called every one of them Emily. Not exactly endearing, was it? My heart clung to just one. The past doesnt return, but it refuses to fade. So I remain a bachelor.
…Emily, at sixty, passed away peacefully. A week before, she turned up unannounced, begging forgiveness, weeping over William. She couldnt fathom his choiceshed transitioned, endured surgeries, and now lived as Wilhelmina, happier than ever.
Then came the will. Oliver, a prosperous businessman whod signed everything over to Emily in blind trust, collapsed upon reading it. Shed left him nothingeverything went to the girls and William.
Why? Perhaps blood runs thicker than water. Emily did love her daughters; shed just tucked that love away until now.
The girls offered their inheritance to me. «Dad, take it. Youve earned it.»
I refused outright. That money burned my hands. I passed it to the grandchildren instead.
Oliver declared bankruptcy, pleading with my daughters for help. They told him, «You stole our mother, our childhood. Now be on your way.»
Wilhelmina, having married an Italian named Roberto, now lives abroad, planning to adopt. Gemma keeps in touch, though Lucy and Sophie refuse to acknowledge their siblings choices.
This tale unfolded in London, where Id brought my family seeking a better life. Funny how things turn out.
