April 12, 2025
Dear Diary,
Emily was left on her own at a very young age. Her father had died years before, and her mother slipped away while she was in her final year at university. It was a cruel stretch of fate she was about to defend her dissertation when grief knocked at the door. The only family she still had were the Danvers, Jacobs parents, and they became her closest anchors.
Jacob and Emily had met in the second year of their studies and had been inseparable ever since. His mother, Margaret Danvers, and his father, Peter Danvers, always treated Emily with kindness and warmth. They held her in high regard, and everyone expected the pair to finish their degrees and then tie the knot.
The wedding was modest, but Emily felt a pang of sorrow that her mother would not live to see the ceremony. She also recalled her mothers last words: Before you marry, darling, get a thorough health checkup. My future motherinlaw had warned her well.
When Emily was a child shed suffered a serious injury after slipping down an icy hill. The doctors feared that the damage might affect her future fertility. They kept a careful eye on her, but no one could give a definite answer. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
True to her mothers advice, Emily underwent another examination before the wedding. Though overall she was in good health, the question of whether she could bear children remained unresolved.
At first she spoke with Margaret Danvers, who paused thoughtfully before replying:
If theres even the slightest chance, dont lose hope yet. Ill talk to Jacob myself.
After the stag night, Jacob came home a little tipsy and visibly upset.
I want children, Emily, do you understand? What if we cant? Would that still be a family?
Tears welled in Emilys eyes, and she told him the decision was his. We can try, she added. The doctors had left a sliver of hope, and Jacob was the only man she ever wanted.
The first year of marriage brought no baby. Margaret, who loved her daughterinlaw dearly, shared the same worry. Jacob and his father put a great deal of effort into keeping the marriage afloat and even sent Emily to a specialist clinic in Manchester for a programme called Womens Shield. The treatment showed promise, but it did not change the outcome.
Two years later the reality became clear: there was no hope of a natural pregnancy. Emily fell into despair, and although Jacob did his best to support her, tension crept into the household. Jacob never blamed Emily, yet he could not accept a childfree life either. Emily suggested adoption:
Lets take a little one into our home and raise them as our own.
Jacob refused.
This child would never be mine. I dont think I could give him a fathers love, he said firmly.
Strangely, his parents backed his stance, believing that a child who grows up feeling unwanted would suffer more.
One evening Emily, still loving Jacob, whispered:
Lets part ways, Jacob. Youre still young; youll find another wife and have children.
Jacob hesitated, but when he met Olivia, a lively new colleague who had just started at his firm, he felt a spark he could not ignore. Their conversation was difficult for him; he feared he was abandoning Emily, but she responded:
Everyone has their own destiny. You deserve a brighter future. Dont blame yourself.
That night Jacob packed his things and left. Margaret and Peter visited Emily, apologising for not steering Jacob better.
Were sorry, love. Hed stay over at our place a few times, drunk and upset. We feared hed drown his sorrows. It isnt fair to you or to him.
They offered tea, comfort, and promised never to turn away. Emily thanked them, wept through the night, and accepted the separation. Their assets were split quickly; she stayed in the family flat they had shared, while Jacob soon remarried.
Emily did not stay single long. A handsome, wellmannered man named Paul entered her life, eager to surround her with care. Yet her heart never belonged to him. Jacob haunted her dreams, his face always sad, his eyes pleading, his hands reaching for something she could not grasp. She fought those thoughts, desperate to change her life.
In winter Emily fell seriously ill. One evening she was at Pauls house, had cooked dinner and tidied up, when she felt faint. By nightfall her temperature spiked, and Paul called an ambulance and kept her in his flat. The next morning he seemed distant, saying nothing, tending to her silently. When she finally recovered, he confessed:
That night I never left your side. You called out for Jacob, calling him Jas and begging me not to go. Do you still love him?
Emily did not lie.
Yes. I love him. I think Im a oneheart soul. I cant build a relationship without love, Paul.
She left him for good. He didnt argue. Not long after, I learned that Jacob had finally welcomed a son, a longawaited boy. The news struck me like a hammer; the loss felt final and irreparable.
For three years Emily drifted in a fog. Jacobs parents visited now and then, as promised, offering moral support. She bore them no ill will, nor any toward her exhusband. One day she saw Jacob strolling in the park with his son, but she didnt approach; he didnt notice her either. Again tears fell, love unrequited, the fates cruel.
Eventually she began to recover. The most important thing was that Jacob was happy. His parents said he had a good, caring wife, though he kept his distance. They adored his son, Eddie, and asked her not to hold a grudge.
Dont worry about us. He never deceived you. He loved in his own way, and I insisted on the divorce.
On Emilys birthday Jacob called, just as a friend would, wishing her well and asking about her life. The call knocked her off balance again; she decided it was better not to stay in touch.
A year later tragedy struck again: Olivia fell ill. Margaret called, saying there was little hope left, weeping for her son and grandson. Emily felt a pang of sorrow for the woman whose husband she had once loved. She stood at the cemetery, feeling out of place, but still present. Margarets former motherinlaw approached, embraced her, and whispered:
Thank you, dear. You carry no malice.
Jacob never noticed her then. He called months later, brief and polite, asking to come over. Emily, though tired, let him in, sensing his need.
He had changed, grown older in his own youthful way. Grief does not paint a pretty picture. Over a modest meal they talked about life.
Why havent you married again? he asked.
I love you. I need no one else, she replied, and Jacob wept. It was both strange and movingshe had never seen him cry before.
He suggested:
Lets go to the Danvers. Eddies there; I need to pick him up, then we can take a walk, if youll have it.
Eddie was a sweet but shy boy, understandably so after losing his mother at such a tender age. Emily kept a neutral stance, not clinging to him, yet he looked at her with curiosity.
Their meetings grew regular, almost every weekend, without obligations, simply easing each others loneliness.
One afternoon Margaret called, telling Emily that Jacob was thinking of asking her back. He was still undecided, still hurting, and the child suffered. Emily immediately called Jacob and said she was ready. There was no one she cherished more. They moved in together again. It was hard; Jacob remained cold and reticent, and Emily had to learn to love a child who was not hers.
The turning point came on Emilys birthday when little Eddie presented her with a drawing of the three of them under a bright sun, a childs hand scribbling the word MUM above. Emily burst into tears, hugged the boy, and said:
Your mum watches over you from above, proud of how wonderful you are. I love you too. Youre my son now.
They now live together peacefully. Jacob has thawed, accepted her love, and returned to his gentle, caring self. Emily finally feels happiness after years of longing alone.
She never was devout, but occasionally she visits the local church and lights a candle for the memory of the woman who left this world yet gave her a beloved son and a loving husband.
Lesson learned: love may wander, break, and return in unexpected forms, but the heart that remains open can find peace even after the deepest sorrow.
