**A Different Kind of Love**
“You’re not his wife,” said the mother-in-law, taking the photograph off the wall.
“Sophie, love, help your gran find my keysI cant seem to find them anywhere!” Margarets voice trembled with agitation.
Sophie looked up from her phone and studied her flustered grandmother, who stood in the hallway gripping the doorframe, scanning the room frantically.
“Gran, theyre right therein your hand!” the girl chuckled.
“Oh, goodness me! I must be losing my mind,” Margaret laughed, though the sound was strained. “Sophie, wheres your mum?”
“She took Alfie to nursery. Said shed be back soon,” Sophie replied before burying her nose in her screen again.
Margaret nodded and wandered into the living room, stopping in front of the wall of photographs. She stared for a long moment at the elegant silver frameOlivia in her white dress, radiant and happy, beside James in his sharp suit. Their wedding photo, hanging there for eight long years.
She reached out, lifted the frame from the wall, turned it over in her hands, then sighed heavily and carried it to her room.
“Gran, whys that picture gone?” Sophie called from the hallway.
“Just dusting it, loveits filthy,” Margaret replied, though her voice wobbled.
In her room, she sat on the edge of the bed and laid the photo across her knees. Olivia had been so beautiful that day. And Jamesso young, so in love. Now now everything was different.
The front door slammedOlivia was home. Margaret quickly tucked the photo into her dresser drawer and hurried to the kitchen.
“Margaret, howve you been? Alfies been an absolute terror this morningthrew a fit the whole way there,” Olivia said, peeling off her coat and draping it over a chair. “Wheres our wedding photo? I swear it was just there in the living room.”
“What photo?” Margaret asked innocently, filling the kettle.
“Ours. The wedding one. You took it down?”
Margaret set the kettle on the stove and turned. Olivia stood rigid, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because its time you faced the truth, Liv. Youre not his wife.”
Olivia went pale and sank onto a stool.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. Eight years have passed. Eight! Yet you still act like a bride. That wedding dress is still hanging in your wardrobeI saw it yesterday when I put the laundry away. You polish that photo every day, admiring it like a relic. But life moves on, Liv!”
Olivia clenched her fists but said nothing.
“I dont understand what youre getting at.”
“James rang this morning. Early, before you were up. Said we need to have a serious talk. You, me, and him.”
“A talk about what?” Olivias voice was barely a whisper.
Margaret sat across from her, taking her hands.
“Liv, darling, you know I love you like my own. The kids adore youSophie thinks of you as her mum, Alfie worships you. But James hes still a young man, only thirty-two. Do you really think hell stay alone forever?”
Olivia yanked her hands free.
“Were married! We have children together! What do you mean, not his wife?”
“Married on paper, maybe, but you live like strangers. When was the last time he came homenot to visit the kids, but to be with you? A month ago? Two?”
“He works so much. Always away on business”
“Oh, Liv.” Margaret shook her head. “He works, yesjust not where you think. Last week, I saw him near that new shopping centre. With a womanyoung, pretty. Arm in arm, laughing. When he spotted me, he turned red as a beet, started stammering about her being a colleague. But eyes dont lie, Liv. A mans eyes, when hes in lovethey have a certain shine.”
Olivia stood and walked to the window. Outside, a fine drizzle speckled the glass, grey clouds sagging over the rooftops.
“So what? You think I should just accept it? Step aside and let him walk away?”
“I think you need to ask yourselfare you happy? Do you want to keep living like this?”
“And the children? Sophie starts school next year, Alfies still tiny. How do I explain that Daddy wont live with us anymore?”
“How do you explain now that he only visits once a month? That he sleeps in the guest room? That you two barely speak?”
Margaret stood and wrapped an arm around Olivias shoulders.
“Sophie already knows. Yesterday, she asked me why you and James never hug like her friend Emilys parents. What do I tell her? That youre playing some sort of game?”
“I dont know,” Olivia whispered. “I dont know what to do.”
“But I do. Ive lived a long life, seen it all. Love, Livits either there or it isnt. You cant fake it any more than you can fake happiness. You and James are good peoplejust not for each other. It happens.”
Just then, four-year-old Alfie barrelled into the kitchen, cheeks flushed, hair tousled.
“Mum, Mum! Gran said Dads coming today! Really? Is he?” He clung to Olivias arm.
“Yes, love. Dads coming.” She lifted him into her arms.
“Is he staying? For always?”
Olivia glanced at Margaret, who turned away.
“I dont know, Alfie. Dad will explain.”
The boy nodded eagerly, wriggled free, and dashed off to tell Sophie the news.
“You see?” Margaret said softly. “Children live on hope. And hope that never comes true is worse than the truth. Far worse.”
Olivia sat back down, burying her face in her hands.
“Eight years ago, I was certain wed be happy forever. Remember how James courted me? Flowers every day, reciting poetry. Said he couldnt live without me.”
“Of course I remember. He worshipped you.”
“What changed? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, Liv. Life just turned out messier than the fairy tale. James married a bright-eyed student, full of laughter. Now he lives with a woman bogged down by chores and exhaustion. Kids came, money grew tighthe worked more, came home less. You grew resentful, tired. Remember how you used to greet him? Hair done, smiling, dressed up. Then it became a dressing gown and a list of complaintswhy was he late, why didnt he get milk, why was Alfie sick while he was away.”
“But I tried!” Olivias voice cracked. “I kept the house, raised the kids, looked after you when you were ill! I did everything for this family!”
“For the familyyes. But you forgot the woman you were. And James felt that. Men, Liv, they need more than a housekeeper and a mother. They need a woman who loves themjust because.”
The kettle whistled. Margaret stood to make the tea, her hands shaking slightly.
“I do love him,” Olivia whispered.
“Do you? Or are you just used to him? Be honest.”
Olivia fell silent. When had she last been glad to see James? When had she asked about his day, his worries, his dreamsnot just the shopping or the bills?
“Maybe he really has met someone someone who makes him happy,” she said slowly.
“He has. Her names Rebecca. She works at his firmdivorced, no kids. James told me himself after I cornered him about the shopping centre.”
“And what did he say?”
“Said he never meant for this to happen. That he loves you and the kidsjust differently. You, like a dear friend. Her like a man loves a woman.”
“So its already decided?”
“Nothings decided. Hes torn, Liv. Terrified of losing the kids, of hurting you. But he cant go on like this. Says he feels like a stranger in his own home.”
Laughter echoed from the living roomSophie and Alfie playing some game. Olivia smiled faintly at the sound.
“I suppose I have been more of a household manager than a wife. Making sure everythings clean, kids fed and dressed. When James visits, I want helpnot affection. Someone to watch them while I shop, fix the leaky tap.”
“Exactly. Youve become business partners. Not lovers.”
“But how could it be different? Kids, chores, exhaustionwho has time for romance?”
Margaret slid a cup of tea toward her.
“Try to remember how it was at the start. When you first met.”
Olivia took a sip. The tea was strong, scalding, comforting.
“We met at my friend Lucys birthday. He worked at a different firm thenalways smiling, cracking jokes. Walked me home, and we talked about books, films. He wanted to start his own business; I loved working at the nursery. Felt like we understood each other perfectly.”
“And then?”
“He started coming every day. We went for walks, cafés, the cinema. Id wait for his calls, buy new dresses, do my hair. Felt like the most beautiful woman alive when he looked at me.”
“What changed after the wedding?”
Olivia frowned, thinking.
“Im not sure. Bit by bit First, we moved in here. James said it was temporary, till we bought a place. Then Sophie was born. I was on maternity leave; he worked all hours. When he came home, Id shove the baby at himjust desperate for a break! Hed be shattered, just want dinner and telly. We talked less. Then, eventually, only about the kids and money.”
“And my ailments,” Margaret added wryly. “Ive not been much help, always moaning about my back or my heart. You both treat me like an invalid.”
“We care for you!”
“I know, love. And Im grateful. But care and love arent the same. Ones duty; the others choice. James felt the difference.”
Olivia stood and went to the window. Kids were playing football outside, the ball splashing through puddles.
“So Im a terrible wife?”
“No. Just exhausted. And a bit lost. I remember when you first came herebright, laughing. James couldnt take his eyes off you. Now its like youre sleepwalking through life.”
“What choice do I have? Kids, house, soon work again”
“Liv, do you even want James back? Truly?”
“Of course I do! How can you ask that?”
“Then explain why you havent called him first in three months. Why you never ask where he is, what hes doing, if he misses home. Why, when he visits, you hand him a shopping list instead of a kiss.”
Olivia turned. Margarets eyes held no judgmentjust sadness.
“Im scared.”
“Of what?”
“That if I try to be who I was, and he leaves anyway, itll hurt even more. Easier to just get used to him not being mine.”
“Rubbish! Hes your husband, the father of your children. If you wont fight for him, who will?”
Sophie appeared in the doorway, solemn beyond her years.
“Mum is it true Dad wont live with us anymore?”
Olivia and Margaret exchanged glances.
“What makes you say that, sweetheart?” Olivia asked carefully.
“Im not deaf! I hear you and Dad arguing. Hear him tossing in the guest room. Last night, Alfie cried, said Dad doesnt love him.”
“Sophie, darling” Margaret began, but the girl cut in.
“Gran, dont. Im not stupid. Just tell me the truthis Dad leaving us?”
Olivia knelt and pulled Sophie close.
“Your dad loves you and Alfie more than anything. But sometimes, adults have problems they need to fix.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
“I dont know yet. Maybe.”
“And if you do do we live with you or Dad?”
“With me, of course!” Olivia blurted, then caught herself. “I mean wed decide together. Whatevers best.”
Sophie nodded, eerily mature.
“Okay. Can I tell Alfie? He keeps asking when Dads moving back in.”
“Go on, love.”
Once Sophie left, Olivia sank back into her chair.
“Shes so grown-up. And Alfiehe senses it too.”
“Children always sense lies. They need honesty and peacenot a pretend family.”
“Margaret what if I really tried? To be who I was before? Maybe its not too late.”
“Liv, my dear,” Margaret took her hand, “I want you happy. James too. And the kids. But forced happiness isnt real. If youre ready to fight for your marriagefight. Just know it might not work. And thats okay.”
“Ill try. What if it does work?”
“Then wonderful,” Margaret smiled. “But start with yourself. When did you last visit a salon?”
“Cant remember,” Olivia admitted. “Three months?”
“Go today. Ill watch the kids. Wear something nicenot those ratty jeans. Show James the woman he married.”
“What if he says its over? That hes already decided?”
“Then at least youll know you tried. And the kids will know toothat you fought for them. Thats better than them wondering why you gave up.”
Olivia stood and studied herself in the hallway mirror. She did look dreadfulhair limp, face tired, clothes shapeless.
“You know what? Ill go. Get myself sorted. And tonight, when James comes, well talk. Properly.”
“Good girl. Ill keep the photo for now. If things work out, it goes back up. If not well, perhaps it was time.”
As Olivia turned to leave, she paused.
“Margaret what about you? If James and I split, what happens to you and the kids?”
“Ill lose nothing,” Margaret said firmly. “Sophie and Alfie will always be mine. And youyouve been a daughter to me. If James has truly fallen for someone else, Ill understand. But Ill wish you all happiness.”
“Thank you. For being honest.”
“Off you go. Ill tell the kids youve gone to get pretty.”
That evening, Olivia looked transformedhair sleek, a dress she hadnt worn in years, even a touch of makeup. The children gasped when they saw her.
“Mum, you look like a princess!” Alfie breathed.
“So pretty!” Sophie agreed.
James arrived at eight. When he saw Olivia, he froze in the doorway.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi. You you look beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
The kids swarmed him, babbling about their day, showing drawings. He listened, hugged them, answered questionsbut Olivia saw the tension in his shoulders.
After dinner, once the kids were occupied and Margaret had tactfully retreated, James and Olivia sat alone in the kitchen.
“Your mum said you wanted to talk,” Olivia began.
“Yeah. I This isnt easy.”
“I know about Rebecca.”
James flinched. “You do?”
“Your mum told me. James, Im not here to scream or cry. Just tell me honestlydo you want a divorce?”
“I Bloody hell, Liv, I dont know!” He stood, pacing. “Im so tangled up. The kids, you, this house But Ive realised I can feel different. Happy in a way I havent in years.”
“And you cant be happy with me?”
“I dont know. We havent been husband and wife in so longjust co-parents, roommates. Sometimes I think were strangers living together out of habit.”
Olivia nodded. “Ive thought that too. And today, I realisedwe both let it happen. You stopped being my husband; I stopped being your wife. We forgot how to just be.”
“So what now?”
“What do you want?”
James sat back down, meeting her eyes.
“Truthfully? I want to try again. With you. But not pretending nothings wrongproperly. Like two adults willing to work at it.”
“And Rebecca?”
“Ill talk to her. Tell her I need to give my family a real chance.”
“What if it doesnt work? If we realise were truly not right?”
“Then we divorce. Cleanly, kindly. Stay friends for the kids.”
Olivia reached across the table. James covered her hand with his.
“All right. Lets try.”
The next morning, Margaret entered the living room with a duster. She paused at the blank space where the wedding photo had hung, then fetched it from her drawer and rehung it carefully.
Olivia appeared in the doorway, cradling a coffee.
“Put it back?”
“For now,” Margaret said. “Too soon to take it down.” She adjusted the frame. “Well see.”
