Her envy shattered my life—no one deserves such a fate.
My name is James Whitacre, and I live in the small town of Ashford, nestled among the rolling hills of the Kent countryside. Years ago, my life twisted into a nightmare, all because of one woman whose jealousy seeped like poison into everything I held dear. Even now, I wake at night, haunted by echoes of those days, and wonder: why did fate deal me such a cruel hand?
It began when I took a job as a heating technician at the local school. There, I met Eleanor—a quiet, weary-eyed cleaner, a single mother raising her little girl, Lily. She was shy, unassuming, yet there was a kindness in her that glowed softly. We didn’t grow close at first—just polite nods, then snippets of conversation about life. Eventually, I moved in with her. Evenings were spent shopping for groceries, cooking together, helping with chores. We became a family—warm, real, alive. At work, no one knew of our relationship, though her colleagues noticed the change in her—how she smiled more, how she seemed lit from within. But Eleanor kept it to herself, guarding her happiness like a secret.
Eight months in, she confided in her coworker, Victoria. From the start, I sensed something slippery, serpentine about her. Victoria had a hungry gaze—a husband, a lover on the side, yet it was never enough. She watched Eleanor’s joy with such envy it made my teeth grind. Why covet the life of a struggling single mother when hers was already full? But Victoria didn’t just envy—she wanted to tear us apart. And damn it all, she succeeded.
She began circling me, dropping shameless hints, all but throwing herself at me. I could’ve yielded—she wasn’t unattractive—but Eleanor and I had vowed loyalty to each other. And why would I want another when I’d found a woman who made me feel whole? Eleanor was tender, steadfast, real. But Victoria persisted. She sowed discord between us, stoking the flames until our worst arguments erupted. One night, after a screaming match, I stormed out, slamming the door, and retreated to my old flat. Pride and anger kept me away. At work, we crossed paths; I ached for her, but wore a mask of indifference.
Victoria pounced like a cat on cream. She flirted shamelessly, clinging to me at the school’s headteacher’s birthday party, whispering in my ear while Eleanor stood rigid in the corner, fists clenched. Her glare could’ve burned, but I shoved Victoria off and left. The next day, Lily fell ill—seriously, fever spiking. Eleanor stayed by her side in hospital. Colleagues murmured how she worked shifts by day, kept vigil by night. I couldn’t bear it—imagined her exhausted, alone—so I went to her. Offered to sit with Lily, who’d long since called me Dad. The crisis brought us back together, and one evening, Eleanor looked me in the eye and said, “Let’s get married.” I was over the moon.
We set a date a month away. Announced it at work, passed around celebratory sweets—smiles all round, except from Victoria. Her face twisted with spite, and she plotted her next move. The school was raising funds for a pupil trip. Suddenly, money went missing—and lo!—it turned up in Eleanor’s locker. I knew at once: Victoria’s doing. She’d framed my love to drown her in shame. Eleanor would’ve crumbled—interrogations, panic, Lily to care for. I couldn’t let it happen. I swore I’d taken the cash and hidden it there, knowing she’d never be suspected. She stared at me like I’d lost my mind, but I held firm. They convicted me, locked me away. For her. For Lily.
Inside, she visited once, twice, three times. Begged me to explain, her eyes pleading for truth. I stayed silent. Didn’t want her blaming herself for my chains. Then she stopped coming. My heart split—I’d lost her, but I accepted it, thinking it was for the best. Later, the truth surfaced. Victoria stole again, got caught, and her schemes unraveled—ours included. Gossip reached Eleanor, and she decided to come to me, to say she was sorry for doubting. But fate had other plans. The car she was in crashed. Eleanor died on impact. My love, my life, gone forever, leaving Lily orphaned.
Now I’m free, but hollow. I blame myself daily. If I’d exposed Victoria’s malice then, maybe things would’ve been different. Her envy burned my family, my hope. No one deserves such an end—not me, not Eleanor, not little Lily, left alone in this world. I walk Ashford’s streets, her smile, her voice flickering behind my eyes. It all could’ve been different, if not for that cursed envy that destroyed us.