**Diary Entry**
We had an unexpected visitor last Sunday afternoon. The doorbell rang, and when I looked through the peephole, there stood a manfilthy, unshaven, reeking of sweat and grime. No suitcase, no backpack, nothing. Before I could ask what he wanted, he blurted out, «Can I see Emily?» Then he started shouting, «Emily, please, come here!»
My wife appeared, studied his face, but didnt recognise him. The desperation in his eyes was unmistakable. «Emily, Im your cousin, Ethan. Weve never met, but Ive got nowhere else to go. Dont let me die out here.»
Reluctantly, we let him in. The stench was unbearable. Leaning against the door like he might collapse, Ethan muttered, «Hitched rides and walked nearly six hundred milesslept in fields, sold my phone for food, nearly got arrested for begging.» His voice cracked. «My wife threw me out. My own mum turned me away. Youre my last hope, Emily. Please.»
The tiny hallway felt suffocating. Could we really turn him out? We sent him to the shower, gave him old jeans and a T-shirt, then tossed his rags into a bin bagI took it straight to the rubbish.
When he shuffled out, his eyes darted toward the kitchen. Emily sat him down, but I pulled her aside. «You cant be serious about keeping him here,» I hissed. «Hell rob us blind or worse. There are shelters for this sortlet them deal with it.»
She shook her head. «I cant turn him away. Not because hes family, but because hes a person.»
Back in the kitchen, Ethan was shovelling soup straight from the pot, slurping like a starved animal. Emily nearly gaggedruined our dinner. She scolded him, served a proper bowl, and waited in silence as he forced himself to eat calmly.
Finally, she demanded answers. «Why were you thrown out?»
He dropped his head. «Like a stray dog. Not a penny to my name. Even my own mother slammed the door in my face.»
«Tell me why,» Emily pressed.
He couldnt. Too ashamed.
We laid out old coats for him to sleep onno space in our tiny flat. While he dozed, Emily rang his mother, her aunt. «Ethans here,» she said. «Filthy and broken. What happened?»
The aunt wailed. «Hes no son of mine. Drank, gambled everythingsold his wifes valuables while she was away. Stole from me too. If hes crawled to you, chuck him out!»
Emily bristled. «Easy for you to say. I cant just dump him on the street!»
My patience snapped. «Im leaving,» I told her. «If you wont get rid of him, I will.» And I stormed off to my mums.
That night was agony. Who *was* this man? A thief? A liar? Yet Emily couldnt bring herself to cast him out.
At dawn, she shook him awake. «Your mum told me everything. You cant stay. My husbands gone. Whats your plan?»
She suggested a shelter, but Ethan just stared, hollow-eyed. Then he whispered, «I was a criminal, Emily. But Ive changed. Id never hurt you.»
The fear crept in. What if he was sick? Desperate? Had he really walked all that way? And his soulwas there any saving it?
Finding help took hours. No beds available for two days. Two days of torturetrapped with a stranger under our roof.
I rang Emily, furious, calling her a fool. She called her boss, took leave, explaining the mess. They rationed food, too scared to leave him alone. But slowly, Ethan seemed human again. «Id never go back to that life,» he kept saying. «Thank you, Emily.»
She got him into a programme. He left. No calls, no word.
Five years later, he reappearedwell-dressed, with a young woman. «Just wanted to thank you,» he said. A good job now, a new wife. No contact with his mother. Only Emily, the cousin who didnt turn him away.
He calls on holidays now. Says he owes her everything.
Uncomfortable? Yes. But it taught me something about my wifeand myself.
Sometimes, the right thing isnt the easy thing.
