Gerald left in a cowardly, ugly fashion, without even bothering to tell his wife he planned to file for divorce.
When Elaine came home as usual, she found an empty coat rack in the hallway, the cupboards stripped bare, and the drawers gaping hollow. She wandered through the flat in disbelief and confusion. Her husband’s disappearance was a complete shock, leaving her unsure how to react.
After changing, Elaine warmed up some soup, ate thoughtfully, and smiled bitterly, lost in memories.
*”Well… Gerry, turns out I never really knew you at all. What a wife I’ve been, eh?”* she muttered while washing up.
The Holloways had been married for nearly thirty years. Their only son, Benjamin, had grown up, married, and moved to Spain.
*”With Ben gone, the house feels empty—maybe that’s why Gerry went looking for adventure,”* her old friend Mabel mused.
Elaine just laughed carelessly.
*”Oh, such concern! Worried about me, are you? As if I don’t know you, Mabs!”*
*”Don’t laugh,”* Mabel huffed. *”I’ve heard a million stories like this. Kids leave, husbands get restless, and then there’s the wife—lonely and forgotten.”*
Elaine only chuckled again.
*”You’ve always been a proper nuisance, Mabs. If we hadn’t been potty-trained together, I wouldn’t even listen to you.”*
After Benjamin left, the Holloways had spent more time together—cinema trips, long walks in the park, weekends at the cottage, barbecues with friends. It had been cosy, peaceful. Life seemed to begin anew, full of quiet joy and security. Gerald was fifty-six, Elaine just past fifty. They had every reason to enjoy life, age together, visit their son, and wait for grandchildren.
*”That Benjamin of yours isn’t in any rush to start a family, is he?”* Mabel remarked after they returned from Spain, where Elaine had gushed over how happy the young couple were.
*”Honestly, Mabs, can’t you just be happy for them? Always stirring the pot!”*
*”Three years married and still just the two of them,”* Mabel persisted.
*”They want more time together—travel, see the world. Things are different now, not like in our day,”* Elaine sighed.
A year and a half later, Benjamin and his wife had twins—Alice and Oliver. The babies were beautiful, healthy, an absolute delight. Every evening, Elaine would video call, cooing over them. At eight months old, when they’d grown stronger, Elaine and Gerald flew over for a proper cuddle.
*”They’re perfect!”* Elaine gushed, showing Mabel the photos. *”Look—Alice is the spitting image of Ben, and Oliver’s all his mother!”*
*”Oh, ‘the spitting image’!”* Mabel mocked. *”They’re too tiny to look like anyone. Wait till they’re walking and talking—then we’ll see.”*
*”What’s got into you? If you don’t want to look, then don’t!”* Elaine tucked the photos away—she still preferred printing her favourites, filling albums the old-fashioned way.
Mabel called herself *”happily single.”* She’d had a string of handsome, married lovers.
*”A married man doesn’t ask for much—his wife gets the dirty laundry, and I get the romance,”* she’d say with a smirk.
She’d inherited a snug little flat from her grandmother and moved in the second she turned eighteen.
*”I’ll live how I want!”* she declared, and that was that.
She dyed her hair fiery red, bought crimson lipstick, and strutted about in stilettos.
*”Come round for my housewarming, Elaine—the lads I’ve invited will knock your socks off!”*
It was at that party Elaine met Gerald. They married soon after.
*”You’ve gone mad!”* Mabel declared when she got the wedding invite. *”First decent bloke you meet and you’re tied down? No shopping around? You’re dead boring!”*
But Elaine never doubted Gerald. For years, they were happy—until now.
*”Mabs, it’s me,”* she called her friend. *”Gerry’s gone. Just packed up and left. No note, no call, nothing.”*
*”When was your last holiday?”* Mabel asked unexpectedly.
*”Holiday? Are you even listening? He’s left me!”*
*”Pack a bag, darling. We’re going to Italy—my aunt’s there. You’ll love it.”*
Elaine hesitated, then agreed.
*”You’re right, Mabs. Italy it is.”*
Hospitality in Italy was something you never forgot once you’d experienced it. Mabel’s aunt, the stunning Sophia, had married an Italian, Luca, and settled in Florence. Their four sons—each more handsome than the last—married, had children, then grandchildren, filling the house with noise and laughter.
And into this lively, loving chaos stepped Mabel and Elaine. The holiday worked like magic—within days, Elaine stopped agonising over why Gerald had left.
*”It’s simple,”* she realised, sitting in the sun-drenched courtyard, breathing in the scent of simmering sauces. *”He fell out of love and didn’t have the guts to say so. Not my fault—that’s on him.”*
*”Drink this,”* Mabel said, handing her a glass of fresh pomegranate juice. *”Blimey, Elaine, what’s happened to your face?”*
*”What?”*
*”You look… younger. Smoother, somehow.”*
In Florence—a city impossible not to love—Elaine met Matteo. He was visiting one of Mabel’s cousins. That evening, under the stars, they sat around a long wooden table, sipping rich wine, nibbling fresh cheese, singing Italian ballads in rough harmony. Elaine caught Matteo’s glances, returned his slow, knowing smiles.
He was her age, tall, trim, with thick silver-flecked hair. The night was so fragrant, so perfect, she’d remember it forever.
*”Thank you,”* she whispered, leaning into Mabel, who just squeezed her hand. No words needed.