**Diary Entry – A Lesson Learned Too Late**
Olivia was painting her lips, humming a hopeful tune under her breath. She had a plan to surprise William—cook an elegant dinner, wear her best dress, and spend an evening wrapped in warmth and closeness. Then, the doorbell rang. Heart racing with anticipation, she hurried to answer, but instead of her husband, a strikingly poised woman stood on the doorstep, her smile icy.
“Who are you?” Olivia frowned, scanning the stranger.
“I’m the new owner of this house,” the woman declared with arrogant confidence, brushing past Olivia as though it were her rightful place.
“Excuse me? This is *my* home!” Olivia’s voice trembled with shock.
“Not anymore,” the woman replied with a venomous smirk.
“What nonsense! What claim do you even have here?” Olivia stared, half-convinced she was dreaming.
William had bumped into his first love, Elizabeth. Over a decade had passed, but she was more captivating than ever. Her smile—so familiar, so alluring—erased the pain of their past breakup, his wife, their little girl, and every year he’d shared with Olivia.
A brief catch-up turned into a long stroll through London at dusk. They talked about everything and nothing until they stood outside Elizabeth’s flat. As she brushed her lips against his cheek, she whispered, “Pity you’re married. Otherwise, I’d invite you in.”
Only then did William snap out of his daze. His phone screen blinked with missed calls from Olivia and texts pleading him to pick up formula for their baby.
At home, he found Olivia rocking their daughter. Without looking up, she asked, “Did you get the formula?”
William studied her. She wore worn leggings, an oversized jumper, her hair hastily tied back. No makeup, no trace of the woman she’d once been. *She used to take such care. Now? Comparing her to Elizabeth is like night and day,* he thought bitterly.
“I come home exhausted, and you can’t even greet me?” he snapped.
“Sorry, you’re right,” Olivia murmured. “But the formula ran out, and Emily’s unwell—I couldn’t leave her.”
“Maybe manage your time better?” He kicked off his shoes and stalked past her.
A week later, folding laundry, Olivia couldn’t shake her unease. Since Emily’s birth, William had grown irritable, distant. He resented nighttime cries, her exhaustion—but lately, his jabs cut deeper. First, he sulked over her “cold welcome,” refused to fetch formula, then nitpicked her appearance.
“At least try to look presentable! Men aren’t drawn to stained jumpers and greasy hair!”
“Brilliant—watch Emily while I shower,” Olivia said, desperate to diffuse the tension.
“I’m not a babysitter. I’m the breadwinner.”
Later, he lashed out again: “A good wife inspires her husband. A single compliment could move mountains! When did you last say anything kind?”
Olivia, frayed from a draining day, snapped: “Yesterday I ‘inspired’ you to fix the cot. Do it, and you’ll get compliments.”
Guilt instantly pricked her. She hugged William, who was glued to his phone. “Sorry, that was unfair. But you hurt me too. Let’s talk after we put Emily down—”
He shoved her off. Swallowing anger, Olivia kept her voice low for Emily’s sake: “Your digs are exhausting. If something’s wrong, say it. But if you’re baiting me or expecting pedestal treatment—the door’s there. I won’t stop you.”
William stared, stunned. Gentle, patient Olivia had never spoken so firmly. *Where’s the tender, devoted man I fell for?* she wondered.
Silence stretched. Olivia added coolly, “Shall I fetch your suitcase?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” he grunted, retreating to his phone.
“Remember: no one’s keeping you. But if you go, go properly.”
Truth was, William had already considered leaving. Elizabeth, inviting him over for “tea,” made her intentions clear. Tea was forgotten—passion took over. Later, guilt gnawed at him, but Elizabeth soothed, “I just divorced. Now I’m free. End things with Olivia. We’re meant to be.”
“You left for a ‘better life’ back then. I wasn’t enough,” he reminded her, the old wound fresh.
“I was foolish,” she sighed. “The better life was *you*. Divorce her. Please.”
She kissed him again, and William obliged just to end the conversation.
Walking home, he agonized: *I can’t abandon Olivia. She cared for my ailing mother, wrote to me during deployment, stood by me jobless. And Emily… She binds us tighter than glue. But Elizabeth—she’s my true love. Always has been.*
Torn, he took his frustration out on Olivia, spiraling into fresh outbursts. Her ultimatum hit like cold water. In her eyes, he saw resolve—and realized *he* wasn’t ready.
*This ends today,* he vowed. But Elizabeth’s allure was relentless. She greeted him with dinners, praised his work: “You carry that company! Why don’t they see it?”
Only her divorce nagging irritated him. Finally, she snapped: “What’s keeping you? Don’t say Emily—you barely mention her. If you lack courage, *I’ll* talk to Olivia!”
“Don’t!” Panic surged. “I can’t just leave her—”
Elizabeth waited. Blurting the first excuse, he said, “She’s jobless, on maternity leave. Before that, she cleaned offices. How will she manage?”
Elizabeth softened. “Poor thing. How noble of you.” She hugged him, then added, “Pay child support, help her rent a flat—then file for divorce!”
“Seems you care more about the paperwork than *us*,” he joked weakly.
She stiffened. “*Yes*, I want marriage. Should I settle for being your dirty secret? I’m tolerating this for *you*—for *us*. I want our child born in wedlock.”
“*What* child?” he nearly choked—then noticed her hand resting on her stomach.
Panic turned to joy. *A child! My dream come true.*
“I’m so happy,” he beamed, squeezing her hand. “Soon, we’ll start fresh. Just give me time.”
“Of course,” she smiled sweetly—too sweetly.
Olivia swiped on lipstick, humming. After weeks of tension, William had softened—even apologized: “Work stress had me on edge. But things are settled now. It’ll all be alright.”
“Let’s celebrate at that new bistro?” she suggested, buoyed by his smile—the one she’d fallen for.
William hesitated. “Can’t. Too much work. Rain check?”
*Oh no, you’re not wriggling out of this,* she thought, giddy.
Her surprise plan: Emily to her friend’s, a light meal, her best dress. For extra flair, she bolted the door, imagining William’s knock, her grand reveal.
The bell rang too soon. Olivia rushed to the door, rehearsing a playful line—only to freeze.
The woman from the photos in William’s youth.
Elizabeth smirked. “I’d hide legs like those, not flaunt them.”
“Who are you?” Olivia tightened her robe.
“The homeowner,” Elizabeth said, shoving past.
Olivia grabbed her wrist. “You’re mistaken. Leave.”
“*I* feel sorry for *you*,” Elizabeth countered. “I’m carrying William’s child.”
Olivia’s grip slackened. Suddenly, William’s distance, his jabs, his sudden cheer—it all made sense. The betrayal burned too sharp for words.
Elizabeth pressed on: “He wanted to spare you. I’m not that patient. As a mother, you’ll understand. Divorce him. You’ll keep the child support and a flat—generous, no?”
Olivia nearly laughed. “*No job, no savings*—did he say? How *kind* of you.”
Elizabeth’s face twisted. “Refuse, and I’ll make sure he leaves you *nothing*.”
Recognition struck—this was *Elizabeth*. *All this time, we were just placeholders,* Olivia realized.
“So, do we have a deal?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Let me get this straight: I step aside, take the scraps, and you win?” Olivia smiled. “Tempting.”
When William arrived, the packed suitcases said it all. Olivia—made up, glowing in her silk robe—was breathtaking.
“Elizabeth visited,” she said. “Apparently, I’m in the way. So I helped you choose.”
William flinched at her icy tone. She spoke like he was a stranger. He tried: “I never meant—”
“Stop. I won’t absolve you.”
Nodding, he hauled the bags out.
“One more thing,” Olivia said. He turned, hopeful. “Leave the car keys. Start your new life onWilliam stood on the pavement, keys in hand, watching the door close behind him—finally understanding that some choices can never be undone.
