Jenny had finally had enoughwas it lost love or just a rough patch? She couldnt take it anymore. Why had Daniel become so cold? Maybe hed stopped loving her? Last night, hed come home late again and slept on the sofa.
That morning over breakfast, Jenny sat across from him.
“Daniel, can you tell me whats going on?”
“Whats wrong?”
He sipped his tea, avoiding her gaze.
“Ever since the boys were born, youve changed.”
“Havent noticed.”
“Daniel, weve been like strangers for two yearshave you even realised?”
“Listen, what do you want? The house is a mess, it smells like baby formula, the kids are screaming You think anyone enjoys this?”
“Daniel, theyre *your* kids!”
He stood abruptly, pacing the kitchen.
“Normal wives have *one* well-behaved child who plays quietly in the corner. But you had to go and have *two*! Mum warned me, but I didnt listenwomen like you just breed!”
“Women like me? Whats that supposed to mean?”
“Women with no purpose.”
“You *made* me drop out of uni because you wanted me to focus on the family!”
Jenny sat down. After a pause, she added:
“I think we should separate.”
He barely hesitated.
“Fine by me. Just dont come begging for child support. Ill give you money when I can.”
He turned and left. Jenny wanted to sob, but then noise erupted from the boys roomthe twins were awake and demanding attention.
A week later, she packed up, took the boys, and moved into a tiny flat shed inherited from her gran.
The neighbours were new, so Jenny decided to introduce herself.
On one side lived a grumpy but not-yet-old man; on the other, a lively sixty-something woman. She knocked on the mans door first.
“Hello! Im your new neighbourbrought cake. Fancy a cuppa?”
She forced a smile. He looked her up and down, then muttered,
“Dont eat sweets,” and slammed the door in her face.
Jenny shrugged and went to see Margaret Whitmore. The woman agreed to join but only to lay down *her* rules.
“I nap during the day and watch telly at night. Keep your boys quietno running in the hall, no touching my things!”
She droned on while Jenny thought grimly: *Not the fresh start I hoped for.*
She enrolled the boys in nursery and got a job there herselfconvenient, since her hours matched pick-up time for Oliver and Ethan. The pay was poor, but Daniel had promised to help.
For the first three months after the split, he did send money now and then. But after thatnothing. Jenny fell two months behind on bills.
Her relationship with Margaret Whitmore worsened daily. One evening, as Jenny fed the boys in the kitchen, Margaret swept in, wrapped in a silk dressing gown.
“Darling, I do hope youve sorted your finances? Id hate to lose power because of you.”
Jenny sighed.
“Not yet. Im seeing my ex tomorrowseems hes forgotten his kids exist.”
Margaret leaned over the table.
“Still feeding them pasta You know how poor that makes you look?”
“Im a *good* mum! And youd do well to keep your nose out!”
Margaret shrieked so loud it hurt. The noise brought out the grumpy neighbour, Ian. He watched Margaret curse Jenny, the boys, and the entire universe before turning silently back to his flat. A minute later, he returned, tossed cash onto the table, and said:
“Shut it. Theres your bills.”
Margaret went quiet. But as Ian left, she hissed at Jenny:
“Youll regret this!”
Jenny brushed it offa mistake.
The next day, she went to Daniel. He barely listened before saying:
“Times are tough. Cant help.”
“Daniel, *seriously*? The boys need food!”
“Then feed them. No ones stopping you.”
“Ill take you to court for child support.”
“Go ahead. My salarys so low, youll get peanuts. And dont bother me again!”
Jenny came home in tears. Payday was a week away, and she was broke. Then came the next shocka social worker. Margaret had filed a report: Jenny was “neglectful,” and the boys were “unsupervised.”
The social worker interrogated her for an hour, then said:
“Ill have to report this to child services.”
“Waitreport *what*? Ive done nothing wrong!”
“Rules are rules. A complaints been made.”
That evening, Margaret returned.
“Darling, if those boys disturb me again, Ill call child services *myself*!”
“Whats *wrong* with you? Theyre *children*! They cant sit still all day!”
“If you fed them properly, theyd *sleep*, not run wild!”
She left. The boys stared at Jenny, frightened.
“Eat up, loves. Aunties just being sillyshes nice, really.”
She turned to the stove to wipe her eyesand didnt notice Ian walk in. He carried a huge bag, opened her fridge without a word, and stuffed it full of food.
“Ian, youve got the wrong fridge”
He ignored her, finished, and left. Jenny was speechless.
On payday, she knocked on his door. He opened it, grim as ever.
“Ian, I owe you for the food. Heres two hundredIll bring more later. Just tell me how much”
“Piss off. You dont owe me.”
He slammed the door. Jenny barely had time to react before Margarets screech echoed from the kitchen. She rushed inthe boys stood frozen as Margaret pointed at a spilled teacup:
“Vermin! Little savages! No wonder theyre feral!”
Jenny sent the boys to their room, cleaned up, then sat, numb. She didnt know how to go on. The boys sat quietly on the bed. She joined them.
“Hey, dont be sad. Well get through thisIll figure something out.”
They clung to her, tiny arms wrapping tight.
The next night, a knock came. Two unfamiliar women, the social worker, and a man stood there.
“Jenny Hobbs?”
One woman glared.
“Yes.”
“Were from child services.”
“Child services? Why?”
“Let us in.”
The woman inspected the flat, checked the fridge, lifted the bedding.
“Pack the boys things.”
“What? *No*! Youre *not* taking them!”
Oliver and Ethan clung to her, sobbing. The social worker yanked them free as Jenny fought.
“Mummy! Dont let them take us!”
She saw, through tears, their terrified eyes, their kicking legs. She broke freebut the man grabbed her.
“Mummy!!!”
The social worker handed Ethan to the women, who rushed the boys downstairs. Their screams faded as a car drove off. The social worker let goJenny collapsed.
She stood later, dazed. Her eyes landed on an old axeher grans, left behind. She picked it up, weighed it, then smiled coldly.
She marched to Margarets door.
When the door splintered and a shrieking Margaret cowered under the bed, someone wrestled the axe from Jennys grip.
“Idiot! Whatre you doing? Making things worse?”
It was Ian. Jenny gasped:
“Doesnt matter now nothing does”
He dragged her to his flat, made her swallow a pill. She knew shed runto the bridgeonce he turned his back. But her head grew heavy, her eyes shut. Jenny sleptIan hadnt skimped on the sedative.
He left, heading to Margarets. She sat hunched, gulping valerian.
“Happy now?”
“Ian I didnt think I just wanted her to”
“To *what*? Tomorrow, you retract your complaint. Or I wont stop her next time.”
Margaret nodded frantically.
For a month, Jenny gathered references, passed drug tests. Shed nearly given upbut Ian, still gruff, pushed her on. When hope flickered, she woke up.
“Ian its all thanks to you”
He smiledsadly.
“I had kids once Couldnt help them. Theyve been gone five years. But I can help *yours*.”
The night before the hearing, Jenny lay on Ians sofa, sleepless. So was he.
“Ian you awake? Tell me what happened to your kids?”
Silence. Then, toneless:
“Had a family. Wife, two boys. Didnt appreciate them. Drank my wages, came home shouting. One day, they left. Went to her parents cottage. I waited too long. Went to apologisebut the place burned down. Electrical fault.”
A pause.
“Started drinking, fighting. Got three years inside. Sold my flat to pay damages, moved back here. Got my old job back.”
Jenny sat up, took his handbut he pulled away.
“Sleep. Big hearing tomorrow.”
The next day, the social worker handed her papers.
“Here. Do better.”
Jenny stared. The woman smiled suddenly:
“Well? Go get your boys.”
Her legs buckled. Ian steadied her as they waited.
“Mummy!”
Oliver and Ethan crashed into her. Even Ian turned away, wiping his eye.
“Right, enough crying. Lets go home.”
Life settled slowly. Margaret stayed locked away. With Ians help, Jenny got a factory jobno more worrying over bread. Money was tight, but manageable.
One thing nagged herIan grew even quieter. Once, his phone fell from his coat. The lockscreen*her*. She smiled, took it, and walked to his room. He lay on the sofa, staring at the ceilingstartled when she entered.
Jenny sat beside him.
“Ian Ive always been afraid to say the wrong thing. Missed chances with people who mattered. Worst thing? Regretting what you *didnt* say.”
“Whatre you on about?”
“Just if you wont, I will. Might sound daft, butIan marry me?”
He looked at her a long time. Then cradled her face and said:
“Never been good with words. Just know Id do anything for you and those boys.”
She Decided to Walk Away: Lost Love or Just a Temporary Hardship?
