**Diary Entry 11th March**
“You’re not his wife,” my mother-in-law said as she took the photograph off the wall.
“Lily, sweetheart, could you help Nanny find her keys? I just cant seem to locate them!” Margarets voice trembled with agitation.
Lily looked up from her phone, studying her grandmother fussing in the hallway. The older woman stood by the doorframe, scanning the room as if searching for something lost.
“Nan, theyre right therein your hand!” Lily laughed.
“Oh, goodness! My minds gone blank,” Margaret chuckled, though it sounded forced. “Lily, wheres your mum?”
“She took little Tommy to nursery. Said shed be back soon,” the girl answered before returning to her screen.
Margaret nodded and wandered into the living room, stopping before the wall of framed photos. Her gaze lingered on oneOlivia in a white wedding dress, radiant and happy beside Simon in a sharp suit. The picture had hung there for eight years.
She reached up, carefully unhooked the frame, and turned it over in her hands. Then, with a heavy sigh, she carried it to her bedroom.
“Nanny, whyd you take the photo down?” Lily called from the hallway.
“Just giving it a dustits got grimy,” Margaret replied, though her voice wavered.
Seated on the edge of her bed, she laid the photo across her lap. How beautiful Olivia had been that day! And Simon so young, so in love. Now now everything was different.
The front door clickedOlivia had returned. Margaret quickly tucked the photo into her dresser drawer and stepped into the kitchen.
“Margaret, hows everything? Tommy was an absolute terror this morningthrew a fit the whole time,” Olivia said, shrugging off her coat. Then she froze. “Wheres our wedding photo? It was right there.”
“What photo?” Margaret replied innocently, filling the kettle.
“Our wedding one. You took it down?”
Margaret set the kettle on the stove and turned. Olivia stood straight, arms crossed, watching her closely.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because its time you faced the truth, love. Youre not his wife anymore.”
Olivia paled, sinking onto a stool.
“What are you saying?”
“Eight years, Olivia. Eight! And you still act like a bride. That wedding dress still hangs in your wardrobeI saw it yesterday when I was folding laundry. You polish that photo every day, staring at it like its still real. But lifes moved on, love.”
Olivia clenched her fists but said nothing.
“I dont understand what youre getting at.”
“Simon rang this morning. Early, before you woke. Said he needed to talkwith you, with me. A serious conversation.”
“About what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Margaret sat across from her, taking her hands.
“Olivia, darling, I love you like my own. You know that. Lily thinks of you as her mum, Tommy adores you. But Simon 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, but strangers under the same roof. When was the last time he came homenot to visit the kids, but to you? A month ago? Two?”
“Hes busy with work. Always travelling”
“Oh, Olivia.” Margaret shook her head. “Hes working, yes. Just 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 went red as a beet, stammering something about a colleague. But you cant lie with eyes, love. A man in love has a certain look.”
Olivia stood, walking to the window. Outside, rain drizzled, grey clouds hanging low over the rooftops.
“So you think I should just step aside? Let him go?”
“I think you need to ask yourselfare you happy? Do you want to keep living like this?”
“And the children? Lily starts school next year, Tommys still so little. How do I tell them their dad wont live with us anymore?”
“And how do you explain now why he only visits once a month? Why he sleeps in the guest room? Why you barely speak?”
Margaret stood, hugging Olivias shoulders.
“Lily already knows. Yesterday she asked why you and Simon dont hug like her friend Emilys parents. What do I tell her? That its some game?”
“I dont know,” Olivia whispered. “I dont know what to do.”
“But I do. Ive lived a long life, seen it all. Love, Oliviait either is, or it isnt. You cant pretend it, just like you cant pretend happiness. You and Simon are good peoplejust not for each other. It happens.”
Just then, four-year-old Tommy burst in, cheeks flushed.
“Mum, Mum! Nanny said Dads coming today! Really? Is he?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Hes coming.” Olivia lifted him, holding him close.
“Is he staying? Forever?”
Olivia glanced at Margaret, who turned away.
“I dont know, Tommy. Dad will explain.”
The boy nodded and scampered off to tell Lily.
“You see?” Margaret said softly. “Children live on hope. And hope that never comes hurts worse than the truth.”
Olivia sank into a chair, covering her face.
“Eight years ago, I was sure wed be happy forever. Remember how Simon courted me? Flowers every day, reciting poetry. Said he couldnt live without me.”
“I remember. He adored you.”
“What changed? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, love. Life just isnt a fairy tale. Simon married a bright, laughing student. But he ended up with a tired woman, drowning in chores. Kids came, money grew tighthe worked more, came home less. You stopped greeting him with smiles and started handing him shopping lists. You forgot to be his wife, just as he forgot to be your husband.”
Olivia wiped her eyes. “But I tried! The house, the kids, looking after you when you were illI did everything for this family!”
“For the family, yes. But you forgot the woman in you. And Simon noticed. Men need more than a housekeeper, Olivia. They need to be lovednot for what they provide, but for who they are.”
The kettle whistled. Margaret poured tea, hands trembling.
“Do you still love him?” she asked.
“Or am I just used to him?” Olivia whispered. She couldnt remember the last time shed asked about his day, his dreams.
“Maybe he did meet someone who makes him happy,” she admitted.
“He did. Her names Rebecca. Works at his firm. Divorced, no children. Simon confessed after I cornered him.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he never meant for this to happen. That he loves you and the kidsbut differently. You as a friend. Her as a man loves a woman.”
“So its decided, then?”
“Nothings decided. Hes torn, Olivia. Frightened of losing the children, of hurting you. But he cant keep living a lie. Says he feels like a stranger in his own home.”
Laughter echoed from the nurseryLily and Tommy playing. Olivia smiled faintly.
“I *have* felt more like a house manager than a wife. Making sure everythings clean, the kids are fed. When Simon visits, I dont ask how his day wasI ask him to fix the tap or watch Tommy so I can shop.”
“Exactly. You became business partners. Not lovers.”
“But how could it be different? The kids, the bills, the exhaustionwhen was there time for love?”
Margaret stirred her tea. “Try remembering the beginning. When you first met.”
Olivia sipped, the warmth seeping into her hands.
“We met at my friend Sophies birthday. He was so charmingalways smiling, joking. Walked me home, talking about books and films. He wanted to start his own business; I dreamed of teaching. We just understood each other.”
“And after the wedding?”
“Slowly, everything changed. We moved in with youtemporarily, he said, till we bought a place. Then Lily came. I was exhausted; he worked late. When he got home, Id hand him the baby, desperate for a break. We stopped talking. Then it was just bills and nappies.”
Margaret sighed. “And my ailments didnt help. Youve both cared for me, but care isnt the same as love. Simon felt that.”
Olivia stood at the window again. Kids played football outside, splashing through puddles.
“So Im a terrible wife?”
“No. Just lost. I remember the bright girl who came into this house. Simon couldnt take his eyes off you. Now youre asleep on your feet, going through the motions.”
“What choice do I have? The kids, the houseIm going back to work soon”
“Do you *want* Simon back? Truly?”
“Of course!”
“Then why havent you called him first in three months? Why do you meet him with chores, not a kiss?”
Olivia turned. Margarets eyes held no blamejust sadness.
“Im scared.”
“Of what?”
“That if I try and he still leaves, itll hurt more.”
“Thats daft. Hes your husband. If you wont fight for him, who will?”
Lily appeared in the doorway, too solemn for ten.
“Mum, is Dad really not living with us anymore?”
Olivia and Margaret exchanged glances.
“What makes you say that, sweetheart?”
“Im not deaf! I hear you arguing. Hear him tossing in the guest room. Tommy cried last night, said Dad doesnt love him.”
“Lily, darling” Margaret began.
“Dont lie, Nan. Just tell meis he leaving us?”
Olivia pulled her close. “Your dad loves you and Tommy more than anything. But sometimes grown-ups have difficulties.”
“Are you getting divorced?”
“I dont know yet.”
“Will we live with you or Dad?”
“With me. I meanwell decide together.”
Lily nodded, too wise for her age. “Okay. Can I tell Tommy? He keeps asking when Dads moving back.”
When shed gone, Olivia exhaled. “They know. Even Tommy senses it.”
“Children always do. They need honestynot a pretend family.”
Olivia bit her lip. “What if I *try*? To be who I was before? Maybe its not too late.”
Margaret squeezed her hand. “I want you happy, love. If youre ready to fight, then fight. But be ready for any outcome.”
“Ill try. When did I last even get my hair done?”
“Exactly. Go today. Ill mind the kids. Wear something lovelyshow Simon the woman you still are.”
“And if he says its over?”
“Then youll know you tried. The children will know, too.”
Olivia studied herself in the hall mirrortired eyes, messy hair, frumpy clothes.
“Alright. Ill go. And tonight well talk properly.”
“Good. Ill keep the photo for now. If things mend, Ill hang it back. If not well, it was time.”
As Olivia turned to leave, she hesitated.
“Margaret if we divorce, youll lose the kids.”
The older woman shook her head. “Lily and Tommy will always be mine. And youyoure like a daughter. If Simons found happiness, Ill understand. But I wish it for *all* of you.”
That evening, Olivia looked differenthair styled, a proper dress, even a touch of makeup. The kids gasped.
“Mum, you look like a princess!” Tommy beamed.
Simon arrived at eight. Seeing her, he froze in the doorway.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi. You you look beautiful.”
After dinner, once the children were upstairs and Margaret had discreetly withdrawn, they faced each other in the kitchen.
“Your mum said you wanted to talk,” Olivia began.
Simon rubbed his temples. “Olivia, I This is hard.”
“I know about Rebecca.”
He flinched. “You do?”
“Your mum told me. I wont shout or beg. Just tell me honestlydo you want this marriage to end?”
He stood, pacing. “I dont *know*. The kids, you, this house But Ive remembered what its like to be happy. Not just as a fatheras a man.”
“Could you be happy with *me* again?”
He met her eyes. “Id like to try. Not pretending nothing happenedbut starting fresh. As two people willing to work at it.”
“And Rebecca?”
“Ill end it. Give us a real chance.”
“And if it doesnt work?”
“Then we part as friends. For the kids.”
She reached across the table. He took her hand.
“Alright. Well try.”
The next morning, Margaret entered the living room, duster in hand. She paused before the empty wall, then fetched the wedding photo from her drawer.
Olivia watched from the doorway, coffee in hand.
“Putting it back?”
“For now,” Margaret said softly. “Its too soon to take it down.”
**Lesson:** Love isnt a relic to be polished, but a fire to be tended. Neglect it, and it dimsunless both hands are willing to stoke it anew.
