**Diary Entry 12th March, 1985**
From childhood, Emily knew she was beautifuleveryone told her so.
Our daughters a proper little stunner, stands out from the rest, her mother would gush to friends and coworkers. And truly, no one could deny it. Though old Mrs. Whitaker next door sometimes muttered, All children are prettyits growing up that changes things. Not always, mind, but often enough.
By secondary school, Emily had blossomed into a tall, striking beautyhaughty and spoiled, accustomed to boys tripping over themselves to please her. After A-levels, she failed to get into university, settling instead for a college diploma in retail management.
Love, her mother said, why not work at the factory lab with me? Light work, no heavy liftingnot like that shop nonsense. So Emily became a lab assistant.
By then, she was even lovelier, confident in her worth. She fell for James, an engineer from the next departmenta whirlwind romance, a hasty proposal. Marry me before someone else snatches you up, he joked. She said yes.
Their wedding was modest, like most in those daysheld in the factory canteen, crowded with well-wishers. Soon after, Emily discovered she was pregnant. James was overjoyed. Their daughter, Sophie, was the image of her mothereveryone doted on her.
But motherhood changed Emilynot her looks, but her heart. She grew cold, treating James like a servant while he cared for Sophieschool runs, bedtime stories, everything. Emily stayed late at work, though James knew the lab never ran overtime. He endured her sharp tongue, shielding Sophie from their rows.
James, colleagues murmured, saw your missus dining with the director. Hed just look away.
Whyd you marry a beauty, mate? friends teased. Pretty cakes get shared, dont they?
Emily had taken up with Anthony Whitmore, a high-ranking civil servant who showered her with jewels and designer gifts. James became a ghost in his own homecooking, cleaning, silent. He wouldnt divorce, not for Sophies sake.
Then the recession hit. Anthonys fortunes crumbledinvestigations, arrests. Emily was dragged in for questioning, released for lack of evidence, but her reputation was ruined. She came home hollow-eyed, like shed swum through sewage. Their savings were goneJames had sold half their belongings to pay her legal fees. The factory sacked her. James stayed, for Sophie, though they lived as strangers.
Once, he nearly left. Emily, pride shattered, begged: Dont go. Ill change. He stayed but couldnt bear to touch her. You slept with them, hed say.
For this family, shed snap.
Then she strayed againthis time with a young assistant, Liam. Loans and grit rebuilt her life: a souvenir stall near tourist hotspots, then a proper shop, then two.
James, fetch me from HeathrowIm off to Turkey for stock, shed order. Or quit that dead-end job and help me.
Not cut out for sales, hed mutter.
I need a mans strength.
Plenty of blokes need work, hed reply, indifferent.
Liam became more than an assistant. James knew but said little. If youd paid me attention shed retort.
You make my skin crawl, hed answer.
Years passed. Sophie married and moved to Scotland. New Years cameEmily flew to China, James to Finland with mates. Returning, he barely recognised her.
God, Emwhats this? You look twenty again! No wrinkles, no middle-aged spreadslim, glowing.
Cost me everything, she laughed, empty purse in hand. Chinese treatmentsacupuncture, massages. Worth every penny.
She couldnt stop. But profits dwindled, and then James had a heart attack. He came home frail, aged overnight.
Christ, is that what Id look like? Emily muttered, eyeing the mirror.
Stay with me awhile, hed ask.
No timemoney wont earn itself.
Then Liam struck. Sign here, hed saiddocuments transferring her business to him. Shed scrawled her name without reading.
The solicitor sighed. Its airtight, Mrs. Hart. Your signatures on every page.
Defeated, she returned home. Weve nothing left, James whispered.
The flat, then. Well sell itbuy something cheaper.
And do what?
Youll get a computer. Live virtually. She cackled.
Emily knew shed rise againlike a phoenix, always.
**Lesson:** Beauty fades, and pride blinds. But the worst bankruptcy is of the soul.
