**Shattered Illusions: The Path to True Love**
James seethed with anger. “Did I hear that right? Did Amelia really say that?”
“James, I’ve made up my mind—we need a divorce. I’ll come for my things this evening,” she repeated, turning away without another word.
She was leaving him? What right did she have to walk out on her husband? Who did she think she was? How could she do this after everything they’d shared? He’d given her everything! Typical woman—pretending to be loving and forgiving, only to twist the knife. Was there someone else? Unlikely—she wasn’t the type.
“Just playing games, trying to make me chase her,” James muttered. “But damn it, she got under my skin. Her plain affection had grown dull, but now—intrigue. Fine, I’ll wait. Wants to spark my interest, does she? Clever girl, Amelia. A man likes a challenge.”
That evening, James returned home early. Amelia, still in that same scarlet dressing gown, was packing her suitcase.
“You’re actually serious?!” James froze. He pulled her into an embrace. “Enough games, love.”
He expected her to yield—she always had. A wife should obey! But Amelia shoved him back, her faint smile only fueling his frustration. He scooped her up, but she wriggled free, standing firm.
“You’re greedy with women, James,” she said. “When I’m here, you chase others. The moment I leave, you cling? It doesn’t matter—I’ll file for divorce, and if necessary, claim maintenance. Scared now?”
Amelia left for her parents’ that night. By evening, her mother-in-law called. “Amelia, what’s gotten into you? James told us everything! How could you abandon your husband? You’ve ruined his life! He adores you!”
Amelia tried to explain. “Margaret, you know James has—”
“Don’t slander my son!” came the sharp reply. “Good thing we never put your name on the deed, and there are no children! Or you’d have taken the house too!”
The divorce was quick. Amelia felt relief—like smoke clearing, her eyes opened. Once, she’d believed James was perfect. “My darling girl,” he’d called her, swearing he couldn’t live without her. But within a year, he’d grown cold.
At Christmas, they’d visited his friends’ cottage in the Cotswolds. His mate Thomas had drunk too much, and James helped put him to bed. Amelia waited, even dozed off. Waking, she went searching—only to see James slipping quietly from Charlotte and Thomas’s room. Spotting her, he startled. “Why are you lurking? Come on! I was calming Thomas down, helping Charlotte.”
She’d believed him—wanted to. Later, his schoolmate threw a stag do nearby. From her balcony, Amelia saw girls joining them on theirs. James denied it all. “Your imagination! Just lads having a pint. Don’t you trust me? You’re the only one I love.”
He’d assumed it would last forever: Amelia as his possession, while he wandered freely. After all, he was a man!
At work, Amelia told no one. Why air private grief? But one colleague knew instantly—Oliver. She’d long sensed his quiet affection, though he’d kept his distance while she was married.
Now, his gaze warmed—gentle, steady. Oliver was kind; the office girls joked about “marrying him off.” He lived in a village near Bath, helping his parents tend their garden and rabbits. Colleagues teased, “Oliver’ll find a sturdy farmwife, have five kids, and sing folk songs on the porch!”
Amelia hardly noticed when it changed. Oliver began walking her home. Once, his hand brushed hers—a spark. Suddenly, she saw him anew. Not tall, glasses perched on his nose—but none of it mattered. His eyes held promises.
Then came the words: “Amelia, if this isn’t real, stop now. My heart’s all in. I know you’re free, though you’ve not said it. No rush—but I’ve dreamed of you. Be my wife.”
Old-fashioned, yet achingly sincere. Amelia was stunned—no one had ever spoken to her like this. She mattered, wholly, to him alone.
Six months later, they married. A daughter, Eleanor, arrived within a year; a son, William, two after. Now, they sat on their cottage porch, laughing. The jests had come true—well, nearly. The wife wasn’t “sturdy farmfolk,” the children just two—but life stretched ahead, bound by love.
Later, mutual friends spoke of James. Twice remarried, twice divorced. Living with his mother now. Margaret still lamented how “that ungrateful Amelia” ruined her “poor Jamie,” who’d loved her so.
