15October2025
Dear diary,
Tonight I sit at the kitchen table, the kettle long since turned off, and try to sort the tangled thoughts that have been swirling since this afternoon. Emily, my sixyearold, had been tugging at my sleeve ever since she saw my face at the window of The Rose & Crown, the little café on High Street where wed been having a quick coffee. She stared at the glass dome that held a miniature tower of brightly coloured sherbet balls, each capped with a fresh mint leaf and a tiny cherry, all drizzled in chocolate. Any child would have lunged for it, but Emily kept her hands away. She has been quiet ever since last Friday, when she told me she wanted a serious talk.
I tried to keep the silence for a while, letting the hum of the café fill the space, before finally I said, What shall we do, love? Stop seeing each other altogether? How am I to live then?
Emily wrinkled her little nosejust like Sarahs, a tiny bit upturnedand thought before replying, No, Dad. I cant be without you either. Heres a plan: call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. Then well have the afternoon to ourselves. If you fancy a coffee or a scoop of icecream, we can sit here together. Ill tell you everything about how Mum and I get on.
She paused, then added, And if you ever want to see how Mums doing, Ill videocall her each week and show you the pictures.
I smiled a little, nodded, and said, Alright, thatll be our new routine.
A sigh of relief escaped Emilys lips and she finally took a bite of the icecream. Yet she wasnt finished. While the colourful sprinkles clung to her upper lip, she licked them clean, stared straight ahead and, with a seriousness beyond her years, declared, Dad, I think you should get married. She added, with a generous dose of childlike optimism, Youre not that old yet.
I chuckled, You might be right about the not very old part.
Emily, eyes bright, pointed to the corner of the café where Uncle Simon, the man who had visited Mum twice already, sat shaving the last of his beard. Look, Uncle Simonhes almost bald, isnt he? she whispered, tilting her head. The words fluttered out of her mouth as if shed uncovered a secret that had been kept from her.
I raised my eyebrows, Whos this Uncle Simon you speak of? Mums boss?
Emily flustered, I dont know maybe hes her boss. He brings her sweets, a cake sometimes, and sometimes he brings flowers for Mum.
I clasped my hands together on the table, feeling the weight of the decision I was about to make. Emily watched me, waiting for a sign. She seemed to understand that men often need a gentle nudge toward the right choice, especially when the woman they love holds such a place in their life.
After a long, heavy silence, I finally let out a breath, untwisted the knot of my fingers, and leaned forward. If Emily were older she might have recognised the tone I usedone that Shakespeares Othello once used with Desdemona. But she knows nothing of those tragedies; shes only gathering life experience, learning how people laugh and ache over the smallest things.
Lets go, love, I said. Its getting late, Ill take you home and have a word with Mum.
Emily didnt ask what I would say, but she knew it mattered. She dug the remaining icecream into her mouth, then, as if the sweetness mattered less than the gravity of my words, she flung her spoon onto the table, brushed the crumbs from her cheek with the back of her hand, and, looking straight at me, declared, Im ready. Lets go.
We didnt walk; we almost ran. I held her hand tightly, just as a knight might grip his banner before charging into battle. The lift doors at our block creaked shut, taking the neighbor on the floor above away. Emily turned her head, eyes fierce, and asked, So? Who are we waiting for? Were only on the seventh floor.
I hoisted her onto my shoulder and hurried up the stairs. When Mum finally opened the flat door, I burst in and said, You cant be doing this, Simon! Who is this Simon? I love you, and we have Emily I embraced both Mum and Emily, and Emily clutched our necks, closing her eyes as adults might do before a kiss.
Looking back, I realise that the hardest part of any family is not the arguments or the secrets, but the willingness to listen, to give space, and to act with love even when it feels uncertain.
Lesson learned: patience, honesty, and a little childs courage can mend the cracks that adulthood often widens.
