The Message That Shattered Our Family…
Katherine and Paul returned to their home in Manchester after a visit to the countryside, where they had celebrated Paul’s father’s milestone birthday. Katherine’s mood was heavy—as it always was after visiting his family. The endless feasts, the sharp remarks, and the unshakable feeling of being an outsider drained her. Paul, ever silent, seemed resigned to it. Once home, she busied herself with dinner while Paul went to fetch their children from her parents’ house. When he returned an hour later with their son and daughter, his face was so grim that Katherine’s chest tightened. *”What happened?”* she asked, dread creeping into her voice. *”It’s bad, Kate… really bad,”* Paul murmured, pulling out his phone and showing her a text from his mother. Katherine read it—and froze in disbelief.
They had been married eight years. Katherine, a solicitor, had met Paul in Manchester after he graduated from university with a degree in engineering. His family lived in a village eighty miles away, where his older brother, Ian, had stayed, married to Mary, built a home, and raised three children: teenage girls, Lily and Emma, and a six-year-old boy, Alfie. Whenever Katherine, Paul, and their own children—ten-year-old Sophie and six-year-old James—visited the village, Ian would tease, *”Come on, Paul, when are you going to catch up? I’ve built a house, raised three kids—and you’re still living in Kate’s flat like a guest!”* Mary, too, would look down her nose at Katherine. *”Oh, a solicitor, shuffling papers—while I run the parish council’s finances, manage the house, and raise three kids!”*
Katherine hated these visits. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, would insist they attend every family gathering, dragging the children along. Sometimes, Katherine made excuses, leaving Sophie and James with her parents to spare them the endless, bumpy drives. This time, it had just been her and Paul—and thank goodness. The weather had turned, sleet and ice making the return drive take twice as long. Exhausted, they arrived home—only for disaster to strike.
Paul came back from her parents’ with the children—and news that turned her blood to ice. His mother had called: Ian and Mary had died in a car crash on their way home. Their three children were now orphans. The question hung in the air: what about Lily, Emma, and Alfie? Relatives had gathered, but no one wanted the burden of two teenagers and a young boy. After a tense silence, Paul finally spoke. *”Kate… Mum’s asked if we’ll take them in.”*
Katherine recoiled. *”You’re joking. We have two kids of our own, a two-bedroom flat! I’m not raising someone else’s children!”*
*”They’re not *someone else’s*—they’re my brother’s kids!”* Paul shot back.
*”Yours, not mine! Your family’s just dumping them on us? Absolutely not!”* she snapped, fury burning in her chest.
Paul pressed on. *”Look, my parents can’t take them—Mum’s sixty-three, Dad’s nearly seventy. They’d never be approved. Mary’s sister, Rose, lives in a bedsit on barely any wages. There’s no one else. We’re their only hope.”*
*”Hope for *who*? Your parents? Did anyone ask me?”* Katherine snapped. *”I don’t want to be a mother of five! We can’t even fit an extra chair in here, let alone three more children!”*
But Paul wouldn’t relent. *”Mum suggested swapping flats with your parents. Theirs is a three-bedroom—we’d move in, they’d take ours. The girls could share one room, the boys another—”*
*”Oh, brilliant! Your mother’s handing out flats like sweets now!”* Katherine cut in, voice shaking. *”Tell her no. The answer is *no*.”*
For the next week, Paul’s relatives bombarded her with calls and texts.
*”How can you abandon those kids?”* his aunt demanded.
*”Would you rather they ended up in care?”* his cousin sneered.
*”Have you no heart, Katherine?”* his mother wailed.
At first, she tried to explain—she wouldn’t upend her life—but soon, she blocked them all. Every word was a knife to the ribs.
Then Margaret arrived in person. After inspecting their flat, she announced, *”It’s tight, but there’s a solution. Move to the village, into Ian’s house. Four bedrooms, a big garden. Paul can take over Ian’s job at the parish council, and you—”*
*”And *what*? Tend chickens while my law degree gathers dust?”* Katherine hissed. *”Pull Sophie out of her school? Sell her violin? No. I won’t destroy our lives for your plans!”* She turned to Paul. *”And you’re fine with this?”*
He mumbled, *”We can’t let them go into care…”*
Katherine exploded. *”You’ve got *dozens* of relatives! Why is this on *us*?”*
Margaret left, but two days later, Paul dropped the bombshell.
*”Rose agreed to take them—but the council won’t approve her without a second income. Mum’s idea… is I divorce you. Marry Rose. For a year or two. Then I’ll apply for custody.”*
Katherine choked on her breath. *”Have you lost your mind? You don’t *need* a fake marriage—Rose can foster them! They’ll get survivor benefits!”*
But Paul didn’t listen. He divorced her, married Rose, and brought the children home. Katherine changed the locks, packed his things, and filed for child support.
When he came to collect his belongings, he was stunned. *”Kate, it’s just paperwork—I’ll be back!”*
Her voice was glacial. *”You’re married. You left *us*. Sophie knows. James will understand. Your new family’s waiting.”*
Paul moved to the village, started his new job, and lived with Rose and his brother’s children. He visited a few times—sat silently in the kids’ room—but after the fourth time, he stopped coming. Katherine stood in the hallway, staring at the empty space where his shoes used to be. Her family was still hers. But the betrayal? That would never heal.