For several months now, Oliver has been dreaming of divorcing his wife, Emily. They’ve been together for seven years, never had any children, and one day Oliver realised he’d grown bored with Emily. Each

For months, Oliver had been drifting through days on the cusp of wanting divorce from his wife, Beatrice. Theyd spent seven years together, never welcoming children, and at some point Oliver realised he was simply bored by her presence. The days blurred, indistinguishable one from the next; weeks and months marched in steady monotony.
Beatrice, however, was a remarkable homemaker, a wizard in the kitchen, and Oliver never knew an untidy flat or a bare larder. It reached the point where, working in his home office, hed think idly of a cup of tea, and as if summoned, Beatrice appeared in the doorway, placing a steaming mug exactly as he imagined.
How on earth do you do it? hed ask.
Do what, love?
How do you know what Im craving?
I feel you, she replied, with a gentle smile. I love you dearly, thats all.
In moments like this, any other husband might have embraced his wife, drawn her into a tender kiss, perhaps swept her off to the bedroom. Oliver had once done as much but lately, his response was little more than a soft pat on her hand. Cheers, hed offer. Sorry, Ive still work to finish…
Beatrice, reading him quietly, would withdraw without a word to resume her own routines. Oliver managed a large team and often interacted with them beyond the confines of the office.
So, it surprised no one when Oliver began meeting up and exchanging calls with a young intern, Harrieta striking, ambitious woman, brimming with relentless energy and fiery warmth. At twenty, Harriet understood men with uncanny intuition, easily drawing Oliver in with playful glances and daring spirits.
One fateful afternoon, they stepped into the same lift. As the doors closed, Harriet pressed herself to Oliver and kissed him, bold and hungry; then, she whispered, I wanted to know how you taste.
Seconds later, the lift stopped. Harriet stepped out, utterly composed, not even glancing back. Oliver, stunned, remained rooted. For days afterward, Harriet acted as if nothing happenedher blouses slightly more revealing, skirts more fitted, but her questions were always unremarkable, her manner calm. Yet, her cool indifference drove Oliver mad.
He found himself increasingly obsessed, conjuring visions of Harriet at home, replacing Beatrice in his imagination. Beatrice continued as always, gracious and caringbut it wasnt what Oliver wanted any longer. The hunter within awoke; he played Harriets game with growing intrigue. They kindled desire in secretlingering looks, accidental touches, murmured words. Oliver woke each morning thrilled at the prospect of seeing Harriet.
Then, one dusty afternoon in the records room, passion overwhelmed them amid stacks of files. But the brief encounter was not enough; after work, they booked a hotel room, indulged in each other until time vanished.
For the first time, Oliver returned home after midnight. He found dinner covered on the kitchen table, Beatrice asleep in their bed. He paused, scrutinised her serene face, then stepped out. Beatrice, hearing the door click shut, opened her eyes and stared into the dark for a long, silent while.
Months passed. Soon, Oliver was to leave for an extended business tripover a month. As he prepared, he considered telling Beatrice hed finalised divorce papers, but decided to wait. Beatrice remained oblivious.
The trip unfolded as expected; Harriet soon joined him, their evenings ablaze with passion.
Yet disaster struck. Rushing to a meeting, Oliver saw a rogue car spinning towards a woman pushing a pram. He acted instantly, shoving them to safety and taking the brutal impact himself.
He heard nothing: no shouts, no sirensonly pain, then darkness.
Oliver spent days in a coma. As he recovered, doctors warned him of lasting injuries. Swathed in bandages, he lay in hospital uncertain of his future.
Harriet visited once, recoiling in horror at his state. What happens now? she cried.
I dont know…
Wholl take your job?
Is that all you care for? I might be crippled for life!
You mean you could be an invalid?!
Her impatience stung. You used to talk of marriage
That was before! Why interfere with fate? That was their fate, not yours!
Its my fate now, he replied.
Im leaving. Sorry
She departed, leaving only the ghostly scent of expensive perfume.
An hour later, Beatrice arrived. She stayed by her husband, quietly, endlessly caring for him.
Bea, please rest. You hardly sleep Oliver said, tears threatening.
I sleep when you sleep, she murmured.
Upon discharge, Oliver returned to London, only to learn hed been replaced. The business cant wait for anyone, said the director. Recover fully, and well reconsider your post.
Grim-faced, Oliver left, limping and relying on a cane.
The lift openedHarriet stepped out, followed by a silver-haired man straightening his tie. Harriet ignored Oliver; the company economist snickered, Thats Mr. George. Hes taken your place…
Oliver was silent, recalling Harriets earlier seduction in this very lift.
Months followed: endless doctor visits, physiotherapy, costly treatments, draining his savings without concern. Beatrice endured the hardship without complaint, surviving on her modest salary and stretching it to keep the household running.
Eventually Oliver fully recovered, thanks only to Beatrices devotion. He looked at her and said, Bea, lets go out tonight, like we used to. Ive booked a table at a restaurantlets enjoy ourselves.
But weve got so little money now…
Ive had a loan repaidlets spend it on us.
That evening, Beatrice sat across from him, eyes lowered as she scanned the menu. Oliver studied her as if seeing her anew; shed grown thin, fine crows feet at her eyes, andwhat was it?yes, gold. Nothing adorned Beatrice except her wedding ring.
Bea, why no earrings or chains tonight?
I sold it all, Oliverevery piece of jewellery, even some clothes, to fund your treatment. I never wanted you to struggle
Bea, darlingwhat can I do for you? Id give my life
Keep it, Oliver. You might need it yet.
Hard times returned. They survived on Beatrices income alone, her budgeting so careful that each dinner became a feat of perseverance. Oliver never heard a single complaint.
Then, a miracle. The director of an international firm sought out Oliver and visited his home one evening.
Oliver, I offer you a prestigious role: frequent overseas travel, generous pay, bonuses
Why such honour?
You saved my wife and sons livesmy eternal debt. I couldnt reach you earlier; I was abroad. Now, please, accept
Oliver waited impatiently for Beatrice, swept her into a dizzy spin as she entered.
Were sorted now, Bea! All will be well! Oh, my love
Im happy for you, Beatrice replied, extricating herself abruptly.
But I must leave. I cant stay with you any longer
Cold water might as well have been poured over Oliver; he sank into an armchair, speechless.
Beawhat? How?
I forgave your cheating, Oliver; believed you needed some thrill. But then I realised youd stopped loving mesomeone else became more than just a fling. And thenI lost faith. It hurt, but I tried to save us.
I was pregnant, lost the baby from stressbut you never noticed. The day you had your accident, I left a note and prepared pillsI didnt want to live. But news of your condition stopped me. I couldnt abandon you. Then came your long recovery. Afterwards, financial ruin. Now, you are whole again. But I cannot stay. You havent loved me in agesand now, neither do I love you.
Beaplease, just give me a chance
She offered no reply. Next morning, she was gone.
Three years swept by. Oliver found renewed successwealthier and more respected than before. He became staid, serious, forever hiding behind polite smiles and businesslike interactions. With women, only formal, strictly professional; if any dared hint at more, he cut them off.
Nights tormented him. Alone, he whispered into the darkness, Please come backplease
One dull afternoon, stuck in London traffic, he heard a radio programme for dedications. Without thinking, he rang the studio.
I wronged my wife, Beatrice Smith, and want forgiveness
What song for Beatrice?
I Miss Youplease.
From the speakers, a male voice, hauntingly like Olivers own, sang: I miss you, I so miss youMornings alone, sleepless in the nightI miss you, I forgive youall I love is you
Later, Oliver visited a neighbouring town for business and, deciding to stay, booked a small hotel room. That evening, he wandered aimlessly through the town. It was lovely: quiet streets, golden windows lighting up, families preparing dinnerhusbands and wives in loving companionship, childrens laughter echoing from the homes. Life thrived behind those panes; Olivers own felt hollow.
Suddenly, a small boyabout threedarted into Olivers path, nearly toppling them both. Oliver caught the child and set him upright.
Slow down, mate!
Daddy? said the boy, wide-eyed.
Oliver faltered. The boy hugged his neck, then leaned back, searching his eyes. You found me, Daddy?
Looking around, Oliver saw an elderly woman rushing over.
Charlie! Oh, Charlie, you rascal! she called, whisking the boy into her arms. Thank you! she muttered to Oliver, hurrying off as Charlie kept reaching, crying, Daddy! Let me go, Daddy!
Oliver stared after them, aching for the chance to call the little one his son. Each evening he returned hoping to see them, but neither the child nor the woman appeared again.
Then, trouble struck. After dining in a cosy restaurant, Oliver made his way back to the hotel but was accosted by shadowy figures in the street; a confrontation ensued.
Twenty minutes later, passersby found Oliver battered, summoned an ambulance, and he was taken to A&E. The nurse took details, quickly examined him, then led him to the on-call doctor.
Staggering, Oliver nearly collapsedbut Beatrice, rushing over, caught him and helped him onto the couch.
Yes, Beatrice was the duty doctor in that humble clinic.
My love, Oliver whispered, clutching her hands, kissing them despite bleeding lips. Ive found youIve finally found you
Oliver, pleaselet me examine youjust wait
But Oliver didnt hear, only pleading: Forgive mecome back
At last, Beatrice managed to attend to his wounds, satisfied he had no concussion or breaks. She dressed his injuries and arranged for a taxi, escorting him outside.
Oliver, time has passed. Were finished now. Nothing will repeat.
No, Oliver declared, Ive found you. I wont let go. Ill live on your doorstep until you let me in.
Oliver, I have a son
Beatrices phone rang in her pocket; she answered, growing pale.
Whats happened? Oliver asked.
The nanny said my sons broken his arm
Oliver opened the taxi door. Quickly, get in.
Within five minutes, they burst into the flat. A little boy lay on the sofa, crying; the same grandmother fussed around him. It was the very boy from earlier.
Mum! Dad! the child called, spotting them.
Beatrice rushed to her son, examined his armhis left hand was swollen.
We must get him to the hospital immediately. What happened, Mrs Thomson?
He fell off the chair by the window waiting for you. I just popped to the kitchen for a minute, the old woman wept.
While Beatrice packed, Oliver lifted the boy, who snuggled close trustingly. Oliver noticed on the dresser a wooden-framed portrait of himself.
Thats my daddy, whispered the child, resting his cheek against Olivers shoulder. Mummy always said youd find us one day. And you did
You did, son You did Beatrice watched her men and tears streamed down her cheeks.
At the hospital, relieved to find it was only a bruise, Beatrice sat beside Oliver as he held their child.
When I left you, I didnt know I was expecting, she explained softly. Later, I decided not to tell you. You always managed without me and I thought youd be happier. I stayed in my aunts village until after the birth, then moved herethe town is gentle and peaceful. I hired Mrs Thomson to help, but she struggles to keep up
I know Recently I caught him running toward the street.
What?
No, DaddyI was running to you, murmured the sleepy boy.
I recognised youyoure in that portrait. Mummy said youd come
Oh, son Oliver said. Then, Beatrice, why didnt you hide my identity from Charlie?
I heard that song, Oliver. You requested it, didnt you?
Yes, Oliver whispered.
And sang it yourself. Only now do I realiseI cant live without you. I truly love you
And I love you, Bea
A week later, Oliver, Beatrice, and Charlie returned home. The laughter of their son filled the grand flat with life; Oliver feared to let go of Beatrices hand, worried it was but a strange, surreal dream.
But she was therereal and beloved, beside him once more, and Oliver understood that some power above had forgiven him and blessed him with a happiness hed never valued before.