All characters are fictional, created from the author’s imagination, and contain some Adult theme.
When Love Dies
What would you do when the love dies in your relationship? Do you leave and start again, or try to bring back the desire?
This story is about a woman who met and fell in love with her husband, who had two beautiful daughters.
So, what went wrong?
1975
Georgina and her mates would hang around the funfair every weekend. Greg, a cheeky chappie who worked on the waltzes and was full of himself, liked Georgina. And would wolf whistle at her every time she was around. She used to pay no attention to him; she was quite happy with her boyfriend, but Greg was very persistent and would try his luck
every weekend. He used to spin her carousel on the waltzes to watch her laugh. One week-end, he asked her to meet him after he had finished his shift.
“Why?”
“Well…. you wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to go out with me, would you?”
Georgina laughed, thinking he had such a big head. However, she couldn’t deny he was handsome. All the girls used to hang around the waltzes to watch him, hoping that he would pick their carriage to spin. He had that bad boy image that girls seem to like.
He wore an earring in his ear, and his hair was sandy and just long enough to tie back. Oh, my and his eyes, a brown honey colour, sharp and dangerous, a player. Not the type of guy your parents would approve of.
“I have a boyfriend,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I wasn’t thinking of asking him to come with us, sweetheart.” Oh, this guy was full-on, and he was starting to irritate her
“I know that” She said abruptly.
“I seriously think it time to finish with him, Darlin’.
” “And why on earth would I do that?”
“So, you can go out with me, I don’t like to share,”
he said so confidently.
“Arrrrrrr……” she said, walking away.
He laughs confidently; he knew she liked him even though she was getting so mad with him. His mates stood and shouted bye, Georgina, sarcastically laughing.
They knew she was playing hard to get. That’s why they made fun of her. She turns and sticks her middle finger up at them all.
“Very ladylike….” one of the lads shouts, laughing.
She turned to shouted obscenities at them; it just made them tease her even more. She was going to be a challenge; one he wasn’t going to lose either.
A couple of weekends passed, and Georgina hadn’t been to the funfair. She had been in bed with the flu and was quite ill. Greg asked Connie and Jules where she was, and they told him she was in bed, sick. The next day, he gave her friends some flowers. The lads on the fair wondered what he was playing at; he’d never done this before.
“I know what I’m doing”
“We thought you were just after getting to her knickers.”
Greg laughs, “I know exactly what I’m doing, guys, be sure of that…. Watch and learn, fellas.”
When Georgina received the flowers, she was taken aback. She didn’t see Greg as the car-ing and sympathetic type, more of a get-what-you-can type. Jules, however, thought it very romantic and told her he must like her. Connie was a little less enthused,
“he’s after something.”
“What like…?”
“Ohhhh… Jules, you are so naïve.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah… you are”, Georgina said, smiling at her
“He, after getting in her knickers.”
“Ohhhh….” Jules gasps, “No, he’s in love with her”
Connie and Georgina giggle at her innocence.
However, Georgina’s boyfriend, Ben, was not amused by the attention she was getting and decided to go and see Greg, telling him to back off.
“What…?” he laughs. “Are you going to make me?” Are freaking stupid lad.”
Ben pushes Greg, “Back off, stay away from her.”
Greg faces up to Ben, moving his head into his
“You back off…. You might get hurt.”
Ben walks away, livid; he tells Georgina to stay away from the funfair. Georgina doesn’t like being dictated to. “Don’t do that,” she snarls.
“What…?
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Let’s put it this way, if you go to the funfair again, we are finished.”
She didn’t like ultimatums either. She was not about to let anyone tell her she could or couldn’t do, and so that weekend, Connie, Jules, and she went to the funfair.
“Hey… It’s my dream girl.”
Georgina laughs: he was such a charmer.
“Yep …seriously, I had a dream about you last night.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah…. You were in my bed” he winks cockily, Ohhhh man what a sight for sore eyes you were baby, I was so disappointed when I woke up, and you weren’t there.”
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah….” she replied, rolling her eyes, though a smile played on her lips.
“You and every other bloke in this town, I’m sure.”
Greg chuckled, unfazed. “Nah, sweetheart, you’re special. Different. Now, how about a spin on the waltzes? Just you and me. After my shift.”
Georgina hesitated. She was enjoying the attention, the thrill of his pursuit. Ben’s ultimatum hung heavily in the air, though. “I don’t know, Greg. I’ve got… plans.”
“Plans can be changed,” he said smoothly, his honey-brown eyes locking onto hers. “Be-sides, haven’t you heard? Breaking up is easy, making up is fun.” He winked again, then turned back to his work, expertly spinning the carriages and yelling instructions to the excit-ed riders.
Connie and Jules were buzzing with excitement. “Go on, Georgina!” Jules squealed. “He likes you! And Ben’s being a right idiot.”
Connie added, more cautiously. “Is this worth losing Ben over? Greg’s got a reputation, you know.”
Georgina sighed. It wasn’t that she was head over heels for Ben, but he was comfortable and reliable. Greg was exciting, dangerous, a whirlwind of charming arrogance. He was every-thing she shouldn’t want, and that’s precisely what made him so tempting.
“I don’t know,” she said again, running a hand through her hair. “I just don’t know.”
As the evening wore on, Georgina found herself drawn back to the waltzes again and again. Every time Greg caught her eye, he’d give her that cheeky grin and a wink. He even dedicat-ed a swift spin to her, making sure her carriage whizzed around the track like a rocket. She laughed, a genuine, carefree laugh that she hadn’t felt in a while.
When the fairground lights began to dim and the crowds started to thin, Greg approached her again. “So, dream girl,” he said, leaning against the railing. “What’s it going to be? Are you ready to make those other plans disappear?”
Georgina looked over at her friends, who were practically vibrating with anticipation. She thought about Ben and his possessive ultimatum. Then she looked back at Greg, his eyes full of playful challenge.
A slow smile spread across her face. “Maybe,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I am.”
Greg’s smile widened. “Meet me by the candy floss stand in half an hour,” he said. “And don’t be late. Opportunities like this don’t come around often.”
As Georgina walked away, her heart was pounding in her chest. She knew she was playing with fire, but at that moment, she couldn’t resist the heat. And as she glanced back at Greg, giving her one last wink before the departing crowd engulfed him, she knew that whatever happened next, her life was about to get a whole lot more interesting. The choice was made, Ben was history, and Greg would be her next adventure. The only question was, how long would the adventure last?
Chapter 2
The flashing lights of the funfair pulsed, a chaotic heartbeat against the twilight sky. Mean-while, Ben had been pacing a groove into Georgina’s dad’s doorstep, his anxiety churning into a bitter anger. He’d finally gotten the answer he dreaded: funfair. Connie and Jules. The names were like salt rubbed in a wound.
He stormed towards the fairground, the bass of the music vibrating in his chest. His eyes scanned the crowds, a desperate search that ended abruptly near the dodgems. There she was, Georgina, laughing, her face illuminated by the swirling lights of the waltzes.
He saw red. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. “What the hell did I say to you?” His voice was low, a dangerous rumble that cut through the festive noise.
“Get off me,” she hissed, trying to wrench her arm away.
He gripped her tighter, pulling her towards him. “Come on.”
“Leave her, Ben,” Connie stressed, her voice laced with a tremor of fear.
“Stay out of this, Connie.” He didn’t even look at her, his focus solely on Georgina.
Just then, Greg, riding the waltzes, noticed the scene unfolding below. The predatory way Ben held Georgina yanked him from his carefree spin. He jumped off as soon as the ride slowed enough, landing with a thud and rushing towards them.
“Let her go.” Greg’s voice was surprisingly firm, a stark contrast to his usually jovial demean-our.
Ben, surprised, shoved Greg with his free hand. “I told you, pal. Stay out of it.”
Greg didn’t flinch. “And I told you, now get your grubby little hands off her.”
Ben stared at Georgina, his eyes cold and hard. “We’re done.” The words hung in the air like a death knell.
“Ohhhh, for god’s sake, stop it,” Georgina groaned, mortified by the spectacle they were cre-ating.
“We’re finished… I warned you.” He repeated, his voice laced with a self-righteousness that infuriated her.
“Whatever! I don’t need a boyfriend who thinks he owns me, telling me what I can and can’t do!” She spat the words out, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
Ben just sneered and turned away, his shoulders tight with rage. He stalked off into the crowd, disappearing into a whirl of lights and noise.
“Wow… Darlin’, you okay?” Greg asked, clearly concerned.
Before Greg could finish expressing his concern, Georgina retorted, “And I didn’t do that to be with you either.” The harshness of her words surprised even herself.
She turned on her heel and walked away quickly, her head held high, though her heart hammered against her ribs. Connie and Jules hurried to catch up, their worried faces mirror-ing her own inner turmoil. The funfair, once a beacon of joy, now felt like a mocking reminder of the freedom she craved and the possessiveness she desperately wanted to escape. Then she turns on heels and walks away quickly, followed by Connie and Jules.
Greg was fast falling for Georgina, and in a significant way. She was a force of nature, a vi-brant explosion of energy and opinions. She knew what she wanted, a sharp contrast to Greg’s often meandering path. He was captivated by her feisty spirit and knew he had to have her. It felt less like a desire and more like an imperative, a missing piece finally found.
He pursued her relentlessly for months. Flowers appeared on her desk at work, carefully chosen for their quirky beauty. He lingered after bumping into her “accidentally” at the cof-fee shop, engaging her in debates on everything from the merits of pineapple on pizza to the
socio-political implications of reality television. He learned her schedule, her habits, her likes, and dislikes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of playful rebuffs and sideways glances, she agreed to a date.
He was ecstatic. Their first date felt like wading through treacle. He took her to the cinema, where she deliberately chose a saccharine romantic comedy, the kind that made his teeth ache. He endured the film, wincing at the predictable plotlines and over-the-top declarations of love. Afterward, he took her for a burger at greasy spoons, her favorite burger joint. They drove around, the radio playing softly, but she kept him at arm’s length, figuratively and sometimes even literally. He could sense her assessing him, weighing him up, deciding if he was worthy.
Despite the distance, Greg persisted. He would pick her up from work when he wasn’t work-ing himself, finding excuses to be near her, to share a few stolen moments. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Georgina began to soften. The sharp edges of her initial resistance began to round, replaced by genuine smiles and lingering touches. She had begun to fall in love with him, drawn to his earnestness, his unwavering devotion, and the unexpected depth beneath his sometimes awkward exterior.
But Georgina wasn’t just looking for affection; she was looking for stability, for someone who knew where they were going, not just someone who was infatuated with her. Greg under-stood this instinctively. He knew he had to show her he was serious, that he was committed to building a future with her.
He decided he needed a different sort of job — one that paid more. His old job was fun, but it didn’t scream stability or long-term commitment. He eventually landed a position as an estate agent, a world away from his previous role. He even got his hair cut, not that she’d asked him to, but he felt it was a step in the right direction, a visual representation of his commitment. He was transforming himself, moulding himself into the man he believed she deserved.
He knew the next step was huge. He wanted to ask Georgina to marry him, but he also un-derstood the importance of tradition, of showing respect to her family, especially her father. So, Greg went to see Mr. Meadows before he even considered popping the question to Georgina. He wanted to do everything the traditional way; he thought it was the right thing to do and might gain him brownie points.
He sat with Mr. Meadows in his surprisingly tidy living room, nervously clutching a glass of lukewarm lemonade. Mr. Meadows, a man of few words and even fewer smiles, grilled him relentlessly. He asked about his intentions, his finances, his family history, his plans for the future. Greg answered honestly, his hands sweating, his voice trembling only slightly. He spoke from the heart, laying bare his hopes and dreams, his unwavering love for Georgina.
Finally, after what felt like an interrogation by MI6, Mr. Meadows cleared his throat. “I have my reservations, son,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “But I see the way you look at my daugh-ter. And I appreciate you coming to me like this. You have my blessing.” He even cracked a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I like the fact you asked me first: it shows respect.”
Relief washed over Greg in a powerful wave. He thanked Mr. Meadows profusely, shaking his hand with genuine gratitude. He felt a surge of confidence, a solid foundation upon which to build his future with Georgina.
The next day, heart pounding, Greg picked Georgina up from work. She looked beautiful in her simple work clothes, her eyes sparkling with intelligence and wit.
“Where are we going?” she asked, a hint of playful suspicion in her voice.
He smiled, a confident, genuine smile that reached his eyes.
“I have a surprise for you.” He took her hand and led her towards the car, his heart brimming with hope, ready to build a future with the woman he loved. The destination was secret, but he knew, with absolute certainty, that it was a journey worth taking.
The flickering moonlight danced in Georgina’s eyes, reflecting the opulent setting of “Le tort.” Big gold vases in the corners pulsed with a soft, inner light, casting a warm glow on the im-peccably set tables.
“Oooo… that sounds mysterious,” Georgina had teased earlier when Greg had mysteriously insisted on a surprise dinner. He’d been unusually tight-lipped, a stark contrast to his normal-ly open demeanour.
They arrived at the restaurant. She gave him a side-eyed look. “Greg, it’s costly here.” The marble facade and uniformed doorman had already given it away.
“I know….” He avoided eye contact, fidgeting slightly with his tie.
“You don’t have to take me to places this expensive, and you know that.” She worried. He knew she preferred their cozy little Italian place down the street.
They were seated in the middle of the room; Greg had requested a quiet corner when he booked, but maybe they were fully booked. Georgina tried not to mind. This was obviously important to him.
Georgina looked around the restaurant. How lovely, she thought, feeling ever so spoiled as she admired the silver patterned vases in the corners, which lit up on the inside. They looked so lovely.
Greg ordered a bottled sparkling wine—he really wanted champagne—but he couldn’t afford that expense, as he had spent a fortune on her ring. He’d scrimped and saved for months, bypassing that new laptop he desperately needed.
As they sat and ate, Greg got more and more nervous. He barely touched his lobster bisque, his gaze darting around the room like a trapped bird. He kept clearing his throat and rear-ranging his silverware. Gina, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying her sea bass.
“This is wonderful, Greg, thanks.” She smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. It was clammy.
He finally took a deep breath, his face flushed. “Gina…” He paused, swallowed hard, and his hand disappeared under the table. “Gina… would you do me the honour of becoming Mrs. Donton?” He pulled out a small velvet box.
Georgina gasped. The light caught on the diamond, a brilliant spark reflecting the joy bloom-ing in her chest. She hadn’t expected… well, she hadn’t expected this, not tonight, not like this. Her initial worries about the cost of the restaurant vanished, replaced by a wave of overwhelming love.
Tears welled in her eyes. “Greg…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. He looked at her, his eyes pleading, his face a mixture of hope and anxiety.
“Yes,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “Yes, Greg. Of course, I will.”
His face lit up, relief washing over him like a summer rain. He gently took her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
“I love you, Gina,” he said, his voice trembling.
“I love you too, Greg,” she replied, her eyes shining with happiness.
The clinking of silverware and murmured conversations of the other diners faded into back-ground noise. In that moment, surrounded by the opulence of Le tort, all that mattered was the love in their eyes and the promise of a future together. The mysterious surprise had been revealed, and it was more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.
On the way home strolling slowly toward Georgina house, Georgina gazed at her beautiful solitaire ring “It beautiful Greg.”
He stops and pulls her close “I love you” then tenderly kisses her; she was lost in his kiss. She was the girl who had tamed Mr Casanova, that was quite an achievement on its own.
Chapter 3
1977
The following year Georgina and Greg married they had a beautiful traditional white wedding. They started married life in a small one-bedroomed flat. They eventually got on to the prop-erty ladder with a helping hand from their parents and managed to get a two-bedroomed ter-raced house.
1978 came the sound of the patter of tiny feet. Vicky, 7lb 4oz, Greg was over the moon. She was just so perfect. Georgina had cut her hours from the travel agents to part-time; her mum and Greg’s mum took it in turns to babysit Vicky. Vicky was such a bright little girl and such a daddy’s girl.
Greg would come home from his shift at the factory, his face smudged with grease and wea-riness, but his eyes would light up the moment he saw Vicky. He’d scoop her up, her tiny hands grabbing at his beard, and twirl her around until she dissolved into giggles. Georgina would watch them, a warmth spreading through her chest. She felt incredibly lucky.
As Vicky grew, the little terraced house was filled with her laughter and drawings plastered on the fridge. Greg would spend hours reading her stories, doing silly voices and making her roar with laughter. Georgina, with her calm and patient nature, taught her to read and write before she even started school.
One summer evening, as they sat on the small patio, Vicky pointed to the sky. “Daddy, what’s that shiny thing?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Greg looked up. “That’s a star, sweetheart. A big, shining star.”
“Can we touch it?”
Greg chuckled. “It’s a long, long way away, Vicky. Much too far to touch.”
Vicky’s brow furrowed. “But I want to touch it. I want to hold it.”
Greg pulled her close. “Maybe one day, when you’re bigger. Maybe one day you can even fly to it.”
That night, tucked into her bed, Vicky whispered to her teddy bear, “I’m going to touch a star one day.”
The next couple of years flew by. Vicky excelled at nursery, her love for learning blossoming. Greg and Georgina were her biggest cheerleaders, always encouraging her curiosity. Geor-gina fostered her love for books, taking her to the library every week.
As Vicky got ready for bed, she turned to Greg. “I almost touched the sky today, Dad.”
Greg winked. “You did, sweetheart”
He knew, looking at his bright, determined daughter, that one day, she really would. And he would be right there, cheering her on, every step of the way. Because that’s what fathers do.
Greg and Georgina were over the moon. They were delighted and when 1980 arrived, they found out they were to have another set of little feet coming. Vicky, almost three, was excited about her new baby sister or brother. She chattered incessantly about names and what col-our the nursery should be, her small hands fluttering with anticipation.
The news also sparked a more practical consideration for Greg and Georgina. Their small two-bedroom terrace house was already bursting at the seams. They did need to think about a new house. After weeks of searching, they found the perfect home: a three-bedroom semi-detached with a decent-sized garden in a quiet cul-de-sac. They moved in a few months af-ter Kirsten was born, a tiny, blue-eyed bundle of joy who completed their family.
They had the perfect family. Georgina was the devoted wife and mother they always wanted for nothing, pouring her energy into raising her daughters and making their house a home. Greg worked hard, a steady provider who showered his girls with affection and always made time for bedtime stories. The girls thrived. Laughter filled the house, bouncing off the walls and permeating every corner.
By the time Vicky and Kirsten were both in school, Georgina went back to work full time. It wasn’t that they needed the money desperately, but she missed the social interaction, and the extra income would allow them to afford a holiday once a year, a chance to escape the mundane and make lasting memories.
Greg and Georgina both encouraged both girls with whatever hobbies they had. Vicky, a natural with animals, loved horse riding. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves and the smooth sway of the saddle brought her immense joy. Kirsten, more of a daredevil, loved to go ice skating. She’d glide across the rink, a blur of motion, her face lit up with exhilaration. And every weekend, the whole family would go swimming. Greg would splash and torment them, Weekends were a time for family and fun. Christmases were filled with sparkly decorations, the scent of pine needles, and the joyous cacophony of unwrapping presents. Birthdays were celebrated with homemade cakes, balloons, and singing off-key.
They built snowmen in the winter, had picnics in the park in the summer, and collected conkers in the autumn. Life wasn’t always perfect, of course. There were arguments, scraped knees, and teenage tantrums. But through it all, the bond between them remained strong, a source of unwavering love and support. They were a family, a team, and they faced the world together, hand in hand.
As the girl reached their teens, Greg wasn’t trying to be a control freak. He swore he wasn’t. He just remembered being seventeen, all raging hormones and bad decisions disguised as grand romantic gestures. He remembered the stupid things he’d done, the hurt he’d inflicted, the sheer, unadulterated teenage chaos he’d unleashed.
Now, looking at his daughters, Vicky and Kristen , blossoming into young women, a primal urge to protect surged within him.
Vicky, the elder by almost three years, hit thirteen with a grace that simultaneously filled him with pride and dread. Kristen, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy, all scraped knees and mischievous grins. The thought of either of them navigating the treacherous wa-ters of teenage romance made his palms sweat. So, he initiated The Meeting, Just a friendly chat,
Georgina’s heart swelled as she watched her two daughters, Vicky and Kirsten, pack their bags for university. Two bright, independent women, a testament to the values she and Greg had instilled in them. Vicky, with her meticulously organized notes, was off to Med school, while Kirsten, armed with a fierce sense of justice and a mountain of law books, was pursuing her legal dreams.
“We’re so proud of you both,” Greg said, his voice thick with emotion as he hugged them tightly. Georgina echoed his sentiment, a silent promise to support them every step of the way.
Years spun by in a whirlwind of graduations, job offers, and blossoming romances. Kirsten, always the more decisive of the two, was the first to walk down the aisle, marrying Tim in a beautiful garden ceremony. Vicky, focused on her demanding medical career, took a little longer, but her wedding Will was equally joyous.
The real celebration, though, came a year later when Vicky and Will announced they were expecting. Greg and Georgina were going to be grandparents! Little Perry, a bundle of ener-gy and mischief, became the centre of their universe.
Georgina, watching her family grow, felt a sense of profound contentment. She’d been mar-ried at eighteen, a mother at nineteen and twenty-one. She had dedicated her life to raising her girls, and now, with them both thriving, it was finally time for her to chase her own ambi-tions. She had worked as a travel agent for thirty years, a steady and fulfilling job. When the manager retired, Georgina decided to throw her hat in the ring.
Greg, who had worked his way up from a junior salesman to regional manager at the estate agents, was her biggest supporter. “Go for it, Gina! You’ve got the experience, the passion, and the people skills. You’ll be amazing.”
He was right. Georgina took to management like a duck to water, her natural warmth and or-ganizational skills making her an instant success. She streamlined processes, improved cus-tomer satisfaction, and even introduced new travel packages. She was finally challenging herself, pushing her boundaries, and loving every minute of it.
Life threw another curveball a year later when Vicky and Will were
offered the chance to work in Paris. It was a fantastic opportunity, and they seized it without hesitation. Georgina felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Perry being so far away, but she understood the need to follow their dreams.
So, she and Greg booked a flight to Paris. Seeing Vicky, Will, and Perry thriving in their new environment ignited a spark within Georgina. She had spent years arranging trips for others, and now, she felt the irresistible pull of adventure. The world suddenly felt vast and unex-plored. The travel bug had bitten.
The following year, Kirsten and Tim welcomed their own daughter, Violet. Georgina practical-ly skipped all the way to the hospital, bursting with excitement to meet her new granddaugh-ter.
Violet was beautiful, a tiny, perfect replica of Kirsten. Holding her in her arms, Georgina was overcome with emotion, a wave of memories washing over her. She remembered the tiny, helpless newborns Vicky and Kirsten had been, and she marvelled at the strong, independ-ent women they had become. And now, here was Violet, starting her own journey.
Greg, as always, was in his element, orchestrating the photo shoot with the enthusiasm of a seasoned professional. Flash bulbs popped, capturing every coo and gurgle.
“Smile, Gina! This is a memory we’ll cherish forever!” he boomed, his voice filled with joy.
As Georgina smiled for the camera, cradling Violet in her arms, she knew Greg was right. This was a moment to be treasured. But it was also a beginning. The beginning of a new chapter, filled with grandbabies, travel adventures, and the continued pursuit of dreams, both
old and new. The world was waiting, and Georgina was ready to explore it, one adventure at a time.
2008
Georgina had started to feel tired and a little down. The vibrant energy that used to propel her through her days had dwindled, leaving her feeling sluggish and uninspired. When she visited the doctor, he uttered the familiar mantra: “Get plenty of rest, drink plenty of water, eat healthy, and exercise.” She diligently followed his advice, forcing herself to jog in the park, choking down kale smoothies, and religiously clocking eight hours of sleep. But the fog in her brain persisted.
When she didn’t feel any better, she returned to the doctor, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. He studied her blood test results, a furrow deepening between his brows. “Georgina,” he said gently, “it appears you’re at the beginning of menopause.” He suggested Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT).
HRT offered some relief from the physical symptoms, the hot flashes and night sweats less-ened, but the persistent feeling of unease, the dull ache in her soul, remained. As time went on, she still didn’t feel like her old self. She knew there was more to it than just menopause; something significant had changed. She loved her job as a librarian, surrounded by the com-forting smell of old books and the quiet hum of knowledge. She adored her two daughters, fiercely independent teenagers who were slowly blossoming into young women. But some-thing was missing. The pieces of her life felt disjointed, like a puzzle with a crucial piece missing.
Then it dawned on her, like a sudden sunrise breaking through the clouds. This was about Greg.
As usual, Georgina woke and made breakfast, the repetitive motions familiar and yet strange-ly hollow. She felt odd, a bit down, but this feeling was becoming stronger, more pervasive. It was becoming her new normal.
Greg came down and sat at the table, the same table they’d shared countless breakfasts at over the years. He poured himself some orange juice, a habit he’d had since childhood, and filled his bowl with cornflakes. Georgina put a pot of tea on the table, the steam curling up-wards like a silent offering. She looked at Greg. She really looked at him.
“Thanks, Babe,” he mumbled, already engrossed in his cereal.
She put the toast down, the clatter of the slices against the plate echoing in the quiet kitchen, then brought egg and bacon to him, cooked just the way he liked it.
“Hmm… looks good,” he said, his eyes still fixed on his bowl.
She sat down, staring at him while he tucked into his breakfast. She sipped her tea, the lukewarm liquid doing little to soothe the hollow ache in her chest. She looked straight at him, trying to decipher the familiar lines of his face, searching for something, anything. When he finally looked up, crumbs clinging to his beard, he frowned. “What’s wrong, Gina?”
“Nothing…” she snapped, the word sharper than she intended.
She continued to watch him. She felt… nothing. He just sat there, eating his breakfast, oblivi-ous to the turmoil swirling inside her. He got up, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.
“See ya later,” he said, almost as an afterthought, and kissed her cheek – a brief, perfunctory peck.
Then, he was gone, leaving her alone in the quiet kitchen, surrounded by the mundane rem-nants of a life that felt increasingly unfamiliar. He left and as the door Georgina arrived at work with a cloud hanging over her head. She was usually a ray of sunshine in the office, But today, she was quiet,
almost withdrawn. The team noticed it immediately, their usual chatter dampened by her un-characteristic silence. Connie, her best friend and confidante, noticed it the most. The worry lines etching themselves onto Georgina’s usually cheerful face were impossible to ignore.
Connie, after enduring a morning of increasingly anxious glances decided she couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped into Georgina’s office, the aroma of expensive coffee clinging to the air.
“Hey,” she said softly, Fancy our usual lunch today? I wanted to, uh, catch up.”
Georgina looked up, her eyes holding a strange mixture of sadness and relief. “That would be good, Connie. Thanks.”
Leaving Rod, her ever-reliable second-in-command, in charge, Georgina told him she’d be across the road at the cafe if needed. The cafe was their sanctuary, a neutral ground where they could shed the professional facade and just be themselves.
They ordered their usual – a tuna melt for Connie, a salad for Georgina, although she barely touched it. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Finally, Connie broke it.
“Now… Georgina, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Georgina took a deep breath. “No, you, first.”
Connie frowned but didn’t argue. She was used to Georgina’s subtle manipulations. “Okay… well, it’s nothing compared to whatever’s going on with you. But fine. I… I think I might be ready to ask Dave to move in.”
Georgina managed a weak smile. “That’s… that’s wonderful, Connie.”
“See? Not a word. Now spill. What’s wrong?”
Georgina picked at her lettuce. “I’m leaving Greg,” she said, the words tumbling out casually, as if she were ordering a coffee.
Connie spat her iced tea across the table. “What?! What… What’s he done? Has he cheated on you or something?”
Georgina shook her head. “No…”
“Have you cheated on him?” Connie’s voice was rising in pitch.
“No…”
“Then, why? You’ve been together since forever! What could have possibly happened?”
“I don’t love him anymore.” The words hung in the air, stark and desolate.
Connie stared at her, speechless for a moment. “Gina… you and Greg have been together forever; practically! What is happening?”
“I told you, I don’t love him.” Georgina’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
“You have loved each other forever! You’re practically joined at the hip!”
“I know… I know…” Georgina’s eyes welled with tears, but she quickly blinked them back.
“I don’t understand,” Connie said, her voice laced with disbelief.
“I don’t either,” Georgina confessed, her shoulders slumping.
Connie, recovering from her initial shock, leaned forward. “How long have you felt like this? What the hell has been going on?”
Georgina stirred her salad, pushing the lettuce around the plate. “I’ve felt… down, I suppose, since the girls left home. But I put it down to kids leaving the coupe syndrome, you know? It’s normal, right?”
Connie nodded slowly. “Yeah, but that was years ago, Gina. Years.”
Georgina nodded. “I know. And I kept thinking it would pass. I kept waiting for it to pass. But…” She trailed off, lost in her thoughts.
“But?” Connie prompted gently.
“But it didn’t. I woke up this morning, watched Greg eat his breakfast – scrambled eggs, like always – and… and I realised I didn’t love him anymore. It was like a switch flipped. All the… the affection, the habit, the comfort, the… everything… just… gone.”
Connie reached across the table and took Georgina’s hand. “Oh, Gina,” she whispered, her heart aching for her friend. She didn’t understand, not yet, but she knew that Georgina, the pillar of their little world, was crumbling. And she knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that this was just the beginning of a long and painful journey. The journey of un-ravelling a life built on love, now replaced by…nothing.
Later that evening
When Georgina arrived home that evening, Greg was already at home. “Hi Babe,” he called, his voice echoing through the hallway.
“Greg…” she replied, her voice flat.
“I’ve made a start on dinner; well, I’ve got it out of the freezer,” he laughed, a nervous, hope-ful sound.
“Greg…” she repeated, the word heavy with unspoken meaning.
“What …?” he asked, a flicker of unease crossing his face.
“I’m leaving…”
Greg laughed, a short, disbelieving burst of sound. “What?”
“I’m leaving.” She said it again, the finality of the words hanging in the air.
The laugh evaporated from his eyes as Gina made her way upstairs.
“Gina… What are you talking about, Gina?” he shouted, his voice laced with confusion and a rising panic.
Following her upstairs, he walked into the bedroom where she was already packing a bag, throwing clothes haphazardly into a worn suitcase. “What the hell… what’s wrong?”
“I don’t love you anymore,” she said, her back to him, her voice muffled but clear.
“You don’t love me? Stop it now,” he pleaded, the words sounding weak and desperate, even to his own ears.
“I’m serious, Greg.” She turned to face him then, her eyes devoid of affection, filled only with a weary resolve.
His expression changed. The denial crumbled, replaced by a dawning
realisation. Her words packed a painful punch, a blow that winded him. There was no taking them back now that she’d said them, the invisible wall between them shattered. He moved over to her, his hands trembling as he reached out and took the suitcase from her.
“Is there… is there someone else?” The question was a strangled whisper, born of fear and hurt.
“No…” She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The lie hung between them, unspoken and almost unbearable. The truth was more complicated than a simple affair. The love had simply withered, starved of something she couldn’t quite articulate, something Greg hadn’t been able to provide. She didn’t want to hurt him more with the complexities of it all. “It’s not that. It’s just… me. I need to do this.”
“We need to fix it then. Please don’t do this to us, Gina. Please don’t throw it away.” Greg’s voice was a raw plea, laced with desperation that Georgina couldn’t bear to acknowledge.
Georgina carried on packing, meticulously folding a silk scarf, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t, Greg.” Each word felt like a shard of glass, piercing the fragile facade she’d built around her heart.
He lunged, grabbing the suitcase from her hands. In a burst of frustration and denial, he threw it across the room. Clothes spilled onto the carpet, a chaotic mess mirroring the state of their relationship. “No, Gina, you’re not going.”
“Greg, stop it. Stop making it harder.” Her voice, though firm, trembled slightly. She hated this. Hated the pain in his eyes, hated the way his hope clung to her like a drowning man.
“If it’s hard for you to do this, it’s because you still love me.” He latched onto the idea, his voice rising in a desperate attempt to find a lifeline.
She bent over, her back to him, gathering the scattered clothes. The floral print of the dress she picked up seemed to mock her with its cheerfulness. He dropped to his knees behind her, the sudden shift in position making her flinch.
“I love you,” he whispered, taking hold of her. She could feel his grip trembling. “Please don’t leave me if I’m the problem. I’ll change, whatever it is.”
She felt the dampness on her cheek. Tears. He was crying. A sob escaped him, shaking his entire frame. It was a sound she knew intimately, a sound that used to melt away her resolve. But not anymore. The well of her empathy had run dry.
She didn’t want to hurt him, not any more than she already was. She held herself rigid, re-sisting the urge to comfort him. She couldn’t be with him anymore.
The reasons were numerous, each a drop that had slowly filled the
bucket until it overflowed. His clinginess, his inability to take
responsibility, the way he stifled her ambitions. It wasn’t a sudden realisation, but a slow, ag-onising understanding that they were
fundamentally incompatible.
“Greg, please let me go,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, pulling his arms from around her. He didn’t resist, his hands falling to his lap like discarded puppets.
Greg sat on the floor, watching her with heavy, sad eyes as she
finished packing. The slam of the suitcase closing echoed in the silence. He was shell-shocked, staring at her with a mixture of disbelief and dawning realisation. He hadn’t realised she felt like this. He’d convinced himself that the cracks in their relationship were just minor imperfections, easily patched over with a little more effort, a little more love. He hadn’t seen the chasm widening beneath their feet.
She shut the case, the click harsh and final. She picked it up, its weight feeling lighter than the burden she’d carried for so long. She looked at him, his face etched with pain, his eyes
swollen and red. She wanted to say something, something to ease the sting, but the words caught in her throat. There were no comforting lies left to offer.
“Bye, Greg.” She turned and walked out the door, leaving him kneeling amidst the wreckage of their love. The door closed softly behind her, a definitive end to a chapter of her life. As she walked away, she didn’t look back. The future stretched before her, uncertain, perhaps frightening, but undeniably hers.
What does Georgina do next? Will Greg win and love her back? Or is that the end? Well, that will be another story.
Thank You for Reading,
Deborah C Langley
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