**Returning Home**
Tears welled in Alexander’s eyes, his gaze clouded—as if a lifetime had flashed before him in a single moment. Lucy scarcely recognized the gaunt, silver-haired man before her as the strong, steady husband she once knew. Sitting on the crumpled bed in that dim room, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Shame burned inside him, but he knew he deserved it. He had betrayed the woman who’d spent nearly her whole life with him. And now, staring into the eyes of the woman he might still love, he dared not ask for forgiveness.
They married in 1987, without fanfare—no lace veil, no grand feast. Fresh from his military service, Alex had marched straight to her parents to propose to the girl who’d waited two years for him. Lucy had been shy but firm: she didn’t need a wedding, she’d marry him then and there, without waiting till August. Neither her mother’s pleas nor her father’s jokes could sway her. And when Alex, meeting their gazes, declared, *”I’m taking Lucy, and I won’t hear a word against it,”*—they fell silent. So began their life together.
For twenty-nine years, they built that life. Three children: a son, Edward, and daughters, Emily and Grace. Edward and Emily had their own families now, their grandchildren often visiting the countryside. Grace, the youngest, still lived at home while finishing her studies. Everything was steady—until Marina arrived.
Marina came from a nearby town after her divorce. Seventeen years younger than Alex, bold, striking, childless—and, as it turned out, ruthless. They worked together, taking shifts at the factory. She’d marked him as prey: strong, dependable, hardworking—her ticket out. Small things first: a staged stumble, a request to carry her bag, flattery over his strength, coy giggles, sighs about how she wished she’d met a man like him sooner. And Alex fell for it. Not all at once. But he fell. Secret meetings in town, late returns, lies about breakdowns at work.
Lucy noticed. But she trusted him. Not out of naivety—but love. Then one day, stumbling over his words, he told her he was leaving. That he’d fallen for another woman—one who was expecting his child. She sat frozen on the stool, pale as the walls, and managed only one word:
*”Go.”*
He left. The children turned their backs. Lucy tried to reason with them—*”Life isn’t black and white; he’s still your father”*—but they wouldn’t listen. Alex was gone, but her hurt remained.
Five years passed. Grace married and settled nearby; Lucy worked, waited for grandchildren. Alex lived with Marina. A daughter, Victoria, was born—his mirror image. He adored her, picking her up from nursery, devoting himself to her. But Marina… was no wife. She was a calamity—crude, lazy, greedy, unfaithful. Their home was filthy, cold, loveless. Friends abandoned him. He endured it—for Vicky’s sake.
One day, Lucy stopped at the chemist’s. The pharmacist, Zoe, remarked offhand, *”Your ex had a heart attack. Marina was in earlier—moaning about the cost of his pills. Said a widow’s pension might be cheaper.”*
Lucy left without a word. That night, restless, she dreamed of Alex writhing in pain while Marina laughed over him. By morning, she threw on her coat and went to him.
A little girl answered the door. *”Mum’s gone to Auntie’s. Daddy’s poorly,”* she said, leading Lucy inside.
Alex lay there—pale, withered, nearly a ghost. He saw Lucy and whispered, *”I’m pathetic. But I earned this.”*
She said nothing.
*”I can’t come back,”* he rasped. *”I don’t deserve it. And I can’t leave Vicky—Marina will ruin her…”*
*”I haven’t forgiven you,”* Lucy replied softly. *”But you’re coming home. We’ll get you well. And don’t fret about Vicky. I’ll make sure social services keep an eye on Marina. If we must, we’ll fight for her. If you die, she’ll be lost.”*
Alex wept. Then he lifted his head. *”Truly… I can come home?”*
She nodded. He stood—unaided. Took his daughter’s hand. Offered the other to Lucy. She took it—not because she forgave him, but because she couldn’t do otherwise. Because real love doesn’t vanish, not through pain, betrayal, or years.
They left. Lucy called her son-in-law, James, who came without question. A note was left for Marina. By evening, she stormed in, drunk, shrieking—until Lucy threatened police, social workers, and reporters.
*”Take him!”* Marina spat. *”The old fool’s worthless anyway!”*
Alex and Vicky stayed. Edward and Emily didn’t speak to him for a long while, but little Vicky thawed their hearts. Grace embraced her sister at once.
As for Alex… he never became the man he was. His heart wasn’t the same. But Lucy was there. And that meant—he was home. Truly home. Alive. And with those who loved him.
