Never Letting Go
Emily, lets be clear from the start, my new husband said, giving me a questioning look. Ill provide for you, but in return, you wont lay claim to anything. Everything stays with my children. Agreed?
Agreed, Henry, I sighed.
That agreement was made five years ago.
I never wanted to marry. I was perfectly content aloneperhaps I was just a hopeless romantic. I had a good job, a flat in London, a best friend, and a cat named Whiskers. What more could I want? But time passed, and everyone around me settled down with husbands and children. My best friend, Sophie, moved to France with her family. Every time I met an acquaintance, the same question came: So, are you married yet, or still waiting? What could I say? That Id tried it once and failed?
Then I met a man. Thought Id give marriage another gochange my status, so to speak. From spinster to wife. I swept William off his feet before he knew what was happening. He was a decent blokeeasygoing, quiet, and a decent cook. The only problem? I didnt love him. No matter how hard I tried, I couldnt force it. William did his best to please me, but it wasnt enough.
We lasted three years before he passed unexpectedly. Not even 35, his heart gave out. Death waits for no one. Guilt and regret gnawed at me. I blamed myself for my indifference, my lack of love. Thats it, I decidedno more marriage.
Sophie called, bragging about her life in Paris, insisting I visit. So I flew to France, eager for a change. Sophie chattered nonstop about her new life.
Emily, weve been invited to my husbands bosss birthday tonight. Youre coming! Ive already told him about you. Henrys dying to meet youI showed him your photo, she gushed.
Are you mad? What do I want with some Frenchman? Not a chance! I protested.
Youre being ridiculous! Henrys wonderfuldivorced, two grown sons. Dont miss this! Sophie pressed.
Fine, Ill think about it, I conceded, never guessing how grateful Id be to her later.
No thinking! Were marrying you off! Sophie declared.
It felt like my fate had been decided without me. To avoid upsetting her, I went.
That evening, Sophie, her husband, and I arrived at Henrys. He welcomed us warmlya distinguished man in his prime. I was stunned. This was my match? He kissed my hand, guided me to the table, and I was ready to marry him on the spot. All evening, we exchanged glances, smiles, and jokes.
Henry even spoke decent Englishhis grandmother was from Yorkshire. It was perfect.
We swapped numbers, just in case. Lifes unpredictable.
Leaving France, my heart raced with thoughts of Henry. I longed to love and be loved. He called often, our conversations lasting hours. It felt like wed known each other forever.
Then, he proposed. Without hesitation, I flew back to Paris.
Henry met me at the airport with a bouquet of red roses. As I stepped off the plane, he knelt on one knee. My cheeks burned as onlookers watched. He kissed me, swept me into his arms, and carried me to a taxi while strangers applauded.
Three days of reckless love passed in a blur.
Then came the introductions. His two married sons sized me up with cold nodsjust what they needed, a stepmother. His mother, seemingly a hundred years old, sat regally in her wheelchair. None spoke English.
A cheerful bunch, I thought. Henry sensed the tension, but the formalities were done.
Thankfully, they all lived separatelysons in another city, his mother in a care home. She was 93.
Once settled, Henry laid out his terms: after his death, everything went to his sons. Id get a proper funeral. I agreed. It was notarised.
But his sons didnt trust me. They made life difficultweekly visits, strained conversations. I endured it. I didnt work, travelled twice a year, and loved Henry. The good outweighed the bad.
Four years passed before Henry fell ill. Bedridden, he needed constant care. His sons, sensing weakness, descended like vultures when he changed his will in my favour.
Dad, wives come and gosons are forever, they argued, glaring at me.
I sat quietly until Henry grew weary. Dont worry, I said in French. I only want him to get better.
Their wives, waiting outside, were summoned. After a tense exchange, Henry asked them to leave.
Emily, why refuse everything? Youd be left with nothing, he said.
Youre all that matters, I whispered, fighting tears.
And it was true.
Henry rallied when I told him we were expecting. Our daughter, Elizabeth, was bornnamed after his mother.
He adored her. His sons despised heranother heir. So I urged Henry to give them their inheritance now. Wed keep only the house. Peace was priceless.
Henry didnt argue.
Sometimes, love means letting go of everything elsejust to hold onto what truly matters.
