My Ex Asked Me to Take Care of His Pregnant Wife

**Diary Entry 14th March**

When the phone rang at seven in the morning, I knew it had to be Oliver. Only hed call at that ungodly hour with the energy of someone who thinks dawn begins at five.

Yeah? I grumbled, still half-asleep.
Emily, sorry to wake you, but I need a massive favour.

I sat up in bed. With Oliver, a massive favour meant either a disaster or something completely mad.

Spit it out, then.
Ive got to go to Manchester for worktwo weeks. Sophies six months along, and the doctors told her to take it easy
And you want me to look after your pregnant wife? I cut in.

Silence on the other end.

Just make sure she eats properly, gets to her appointments, doesnt overdo it
You realise how this sounds, dont you?

I do, he sighed. But I only trust you. And Sophie adores you. Says youre the sister she never had.

Brilliant, I thought. The sister who used to be his wife and still isnt sure shes entirely over him.

I hung up, but twenty minutes later, I was at their door. Sophie answeredwearing pyjamas covered in ducks, her hair a mess, her belly round and lovely.

Emily! I didnt want to bother you, this was all Olivers idea, she said, sheepish.
Relax, I dont bite. Wheres your globetrotter?
Upstairs, hunting for socks. Navy ones. Failing, as usual.

Oh, I knew that routine well.

Youre really here? Oliver appeared, looking relieved.
Yeah, but Ive got conditions.

He stiffened. Go on.
No calling every five minutes. When youre back, dinner at the poshest place in town. And buy Sophie Belgian chocolatesshes been craving them since yesterday.

How did you know? Sophie blinked.
I can tell by the look in your eyes, I grinned. Pregnancy cravings arent exactly subtle.

When he finally left, it was just the two of usthe ex-wife and the current one, both a bit bewildered.

Weird, isnt it? Sophie said, pouring me tea.
Very. But Ive gotten used to weird by now.

We fell into a routine. Id come over in the mornings, cook breakfast, help tidy up. We watched telly, laughed, talked about everything.

Be honest, she asked quietly one day. Do you still love him?

I couldve lied. But not to her.
Yes. Not like before, though. Its like loving a memory. It aches, but it doesnt hurt.

She nodded. I was afraid you hated me.
Believe me, I tried, I laughed. But youre too lovely to hate.

At her next scan, when the tiny heartbeat flickered on the screen, Sophie squeezed my hand.
See? Thats him.
And I dida little life, born from a past Id once shared with Oliver. It stung and yet, I felt oddly at peace.

Gorgeous, I said truthfully.
Dyou think Oliver will cry when he sees the photo?
Without a doubt. He wept at the end of *Love Actually*.

We laughed. We cried. We became friends.

One evening, while chopping vegetables, Sophie asked, Why did you two really split?
I set the knife down.
We were opposites. Meorder, himchaos. Mequiet, hima whirlwind. We loved each other but couldnt live together.

And with me?
With you, he found balance. You calm him. I just fuelled the fire.

She smiled through tears. Youre amazing, Em.
No. I just learned to let go.

When Oliver returned, Sophie nearly bowled him over. He showered me with thanks.
Emily, youre an absolute saint.
A saint who expects dinner at a Michelin-starred place, I reminded him.

They laughed, and as I watched them, I realisedyes, I still loved him. But now it was a love without demands. A love that could be happy for someone else.

This kids going to have the best auntie in the world, Oliver said, staring at the scan photo.
Auntie? Sophie raised a brow.
Obviously, I smirked. After two weeks, Im officially part of this mad little family.

Sure you want in on this chaos? he joked.
Too late to back out now, I said. Someones got to veto names like *Horace*.

Whats wrong with Horace?! Sophie gasped.
All three of us burst out laughing.

So I became Auntie Em to my ex-husbands child and his wonderful wife. And you know what? I didnt feel so alone anymore.

My story mightve sounded like a bizarre soap opera, but it had everythinglaughter, pain, tenderness, forgiveness. And when Sophie rang months later, saying, *Em, we want you to be our sons godmother,* I just laughed and said,
Well, now Im stuck with you lot for life.

**Lesson learned: Letting go doesnt always mean losing. Sometimes, it just means loving differently.**