A Friend’s Tale: A Love-Filled Wedding Journey

**A Story of a Friend: Marriage for Love**

One fine day, my mate decided to get marriedfor love, of course. His bride was lovely, sharp as a tack, and fiercely independent. She worked as an accountant at a top firm in London and earned a tidy sum.

My friend, James, wasnt about to be outdone. He took on extra jobs and worked long hours to pay off their flats mortgage faster. Theyd pooled their savings, taken out a loan, and even had a bit of help from family. The place was done up nicelymodern, with a touch of classic elegance. The sort of home where youd expect happiness to settle in comfortably.

But it didnt. His wife couldnt keep up with the housework. Either she didnt know how to mop properly, dust the shelves, or have dinner ready on timeor she just couldnt be bothered. Shed say she was knackered from work and came home late. Fair enough, but James was no slouch either. He put in long hours too.

Soon, they were bickering over who did more around the house. The first six months were a daily battleclothes strewn about, dishes piled in the sink. Neither would admit to their families why they were rowing. Pride, I suppose.

One weekend, James went fishing with his father-in-law. Both were mad about angling, which was why they got on so well. That night, by the fire with a pint in hand, James spilled his gutson the condition his father-in-law kept it to himself, especially from his mother-in-law.

The old man swore secrecy but said their home would never know peace without a “house guardian.”

“Ive got just the thing,” he said. “Give me a week, and Ill convince it to move in with you.”

James thought hed gone barmy but kept quiet.

The following week, his father-in-law turned up with a kitten. James was furiousmore mess to clean! But the old man pulled him aside for a smoke on the balcony and reminded him about the “guardian.” Said hed brought it with the cat, and things would improve. Just treat the little thing right.

James took to the kitten at once. Tiny and affectionate, it clung to him, purring and nuzzling his hand. Only once did he have to clean up a little “accident,” but that was it.

Next evening, when James came home, the flat was spotless. No laundry in sight, and his wife was cooking a proper roast! Cheered, he finally put up that bathroom shelf hed been putting off.

The day after, he found her vacuuming the rugs. Chuffed, he pitched intook out the bins, popped to the shop for bread, and even grabbed a bottle of wine. Dinner felt like a celebration. Couldnt remember the last time theyd done that.

The whole week was like that. Joy had moved back in.

Come Sunday night, his wife said, “No need to slip home at lunch tomorrow. Ive got litter sorted for your cat in the loo.”

“My what?”

“Your kitten. I know youve been ducking out to tidy up. But dont worryIve got it handled now.”

James was gobsmacked. He hadnt been home at all. Thought *she* was cleaning. Turned out shed been too ashamed to sit idle in a tidy house.

Next day, he left work early to spy. Pretended to go, then crept back and hid with his phone.

Around noon, the front door clicked open. The kitten scampered over, mewing welcome. Then a soft voice:

“Oh, Muffin, there you are! Brought you fresh milk and a treat. Clever girl, using the litter tray already…”

The bedroom door swung open. His father-in-law froze.

“So *youre* the house guardian, eh?”

The old man flushed. “Well, I gave you the cat. Thought Id help look after her at first.”

“And the key?”

“Swiped yours when we went fishing, had a copy made. Slipped it back next day…”

Three years on James and his wife are happy as larks, with a little one now. And to this day, no one knows who really was the “house guardian” that once lived in their flat.

*Lesson learnt: Sometimes, the cure for a messy marriage isnt less workits a furry little distraction.*