**Diary Entry**
Life has a way of playing tricks on you—throwing curveballs no one could’ve predicted. I never believed in the whole “first love never dies” nonsense until mine came knocking at my door… and I let it in.
My name’s Emily, born and raised in Manchester. This isn’t some glossy magazine romance. It’s real life—messy, unpredictable, and sometimes bitterly fair. And yes, I went back to the man who once betrayed me. He left me for someone else. And I… forgave. Or lost my mind. You tell me.
**First Love: Bright as a Summer’s Day**
It started in secondary school. Me and James were *the* couple of our year. Tall, fair-haired, captain of the lads’ football team—a proper heartthrob, like a young Hugh Grant. All the girls fancied him, but I was the lucky one. I still remember the jealous whispers, the way the other lads glared when we held hands.
We stayed together after graduation. He dodged national service thanks to his football scholarship, while I went off to study literature. Two years later, he enrolled in uni too. We married young—too young, but back then, we were convinced we knew everything about love.
Three years later, we divorced.
**Broken Promises**
At first, he was sweet, attentive. Then, slowly, he changed. Stopped hiding his affairs. Became cold, distant. I lost two babies—both times, the doctor said it was the stress. I begged, I cried, I tried to save what was crumbling. But in the end, he walked out. For her. Just another fling, but for some reason, *she* convinced him to leave me for good.
I suffered. For years. The cruelest part? I’d spent weeks scrubbing the windows of the new flat we were meant to move into together. Instead, *she* moved in. And I was left with nothing but bitterness, feeling like a used dishrag.
**A Second Chance**
Then came Thomas. Older, quiet, a colleague from work. Steady. He knew my pain, listened without judgment. His love didn’t need grand gestures—it was just there, solid as oak. We fit together perfectly, no games, no suspicions.
We never had children—just never happened. But it didn’t matter. He was my rock. After a decade, we finally tied the knot. I thought that was it—my happy ending.
**Fate’s Cruel Joke**
Thomas died suddenly. A heart attack. No one knew he was ill. Only after the funeral did the solicitor tell me he’d had a rare condition—and he’d made sure everything was in my name: the flat, his father’s estate. That’s why he never pushed for kids. He wanted me free, even if he wasn’t there.
I tried to move on. Threw myself into work, into causes he’d have supported. But the hole in my chest never closed.
**The Past Returns**
Nearly ten years passed. Then, out of the blue—*James* called. Yes, *that* James. Divorced. Nearly broke. And he didn’t want coffee or a chat. He needed me to meet him at the solicitor’s.
Turns out, that flat he’d moved into with *her*? It was still half in my name—we’d bought it weeks before the divorce. I’d never even noticed the paperwork. Now he needed my signature to sell it.
Oh, how I’d dreamed of this moment! My chance to make him pay, just as I’d paid. I could refuse. I could drag it out, watch him squirm. I *would*.
Then I saw him.
**Starting Over**
He’d aged. Thinner, quieter. The cocky glint in his eye—gone. We had tea after signing the papers. Talked. Laughed, even. He listened. Different now. Humbled.
I signed. And then… we kept talking. Slowly. No grand plans. Just two lonely souls who once knew each other inside out.
Months later, he suggested a trip to the old countryside cottage—where we’d been happy. And God help me, I said yes.
Now we’re together. Again. Yes, *that* James. I hear my mates muttering, “She’s lost the plot!” Maybe I have. But it’s my life. My first love became my last.
Was it foolish? Maybe. But happiness isn’t always where you expect it. Sometimes the way back is the only way forward.
