14October2025
I slammed the brakes just before the gate and the Range Rover was already out of sight, the iron barrier dropping shut behind me as if I were a trespasser. Before my eyes rose a sleek modern manorfloortoceiling windows, manicured lawns, colourfilled flower beds, and a tidy hedgerow. Everything screamed wealth and status.
Does she really live here? Poppy? Where did she get the cash for a place like that? the question hammered in my head.
Jealousy cut me like a knife. I, Andrew, the man who spent years bragging about being a proper gentleman and who left my ex with nothing, now found myself idling outside her front door while she seemed to have finally made it.
I sat in my battered hatchback for a long while, then saw the lights flicker on inside the house. Voices rose, laughter rang, glasses of wine were raised. And there, among the guests, stood Poppyconfident, smiling, with that bright look in her eyes that I once tried to dim.
Bloody hell how is this possible? I muttered under my breath.
The next day I returned. I waited for another car to pull in and slipped through the gate behind it, my heart thudding like a runaway drum.
On the veranda, Poppy held a camera, directing two young men with lighting rigs. Beside her, a woman typed away on a laptop. The scene felt more like a professional studio than a suburban home.
I lunged forward, but she spotted me instantly.
Andrew? her voice was calm, tinged with surprise. What are you doing here?
I I just wanted to see how you live, I stammered, feeling foolish.
She studied me for a long moment, as if reading my thoughts.
Im doing well, she said finally. I have a job.
Job? I laughed bitterly. And that job bought you a Range Rover and a manor?
The two assistants shifted uncomfortably. Poppy waved them away.
Yes, she replied. I run my own studio. We work for magazines, brands, galleries. I found investors, and everything paid off.
A flicker of surprise crossed my face. Id never imagined photography could be that lucrative.
Youre lying! I snapped. After the divorce you had nothing!
She nodded. I had nothing, apart from myself. And that turned out to be enough.
Her words hit me like a hammer. The oncesubmissive woman Id left penniless was now strong, beautiful, and unafraid.
Do you think Ive forgiven you? she asked softly. No, Andrew. But I let you go, and thats why I started living again.
My throat went dry. I wanted to explain, to apologise, perhaps to beg for mercy, but all I could manage was:
You were always nothing without me.
Poppy sighed, a faint smile playing on her lips, tinged with regret.
No, Andrew. I was nothing with you.
At that moment a small girl, about six, burst from the house and leapt into Poppys arms.
Mum! she shouted gleefully.
I froze.
This is my daughter, Poppy said calmly. You have nothing to do with her.
Watching them, something inside me cracked. For the first time I realised I hadnt just lost a woman; Id lost the whole possibility of a different future.
Since then Ive been returning home with new eyes. My new girlfriend constantly mocks my old car, demands gifts, theatre tickets, and highsociety events. In her eyes theres only curiosity, no genuine feeling.
One night I confessed, Im jealous. Im jealous of the woman I destroyed.
I sit alone in my grey flat, staring at the faded wallpaper, unable to recall the last time I truly laughed.
Meanwhile, Poppy is opening her exhibition in central London. Her photographs capture lifestreet scenes, portraits, urban landscapeseach image brimming with light, freedom, emotion. The crowd applauds, critics rave, and she stands among them, calm and proud, knowing she has won.
She didnt win against me; she won against her former self, the Poppy who stayed silent and settled.
I remain outside, alone, in the dark.
And now I understand: the greatest defeat in life is not losing a lover, but losing the person you were supposed to support, and instead trying to crush them.
Lesson learned: true strength lies in lifting others up, not in stepping on them to feel superior.
