I met my ex-wife two years after the divorce. In that moment, I understood everythingbut she only smiled and shook her head when I suggested we start anew.
When our second child was born, Emily stopped caring about her appearance. Before, she would change outfits several times a day, always impeccably dressed, every detail perfectly matched. But after returning from the hospital, she seemed to forget there were other clothes in her wardrobe besides an old T-shirt and a pair of worn-out joggers.
She wore them all day, sometimes even to bed. When I asked why, she said it was easier when tending to the children at night. It made sense, but what happened to the woman who once insisted that «a lady must always carry herself with grace»? She no longer spoke of her favourite salon, the gym, or her stylist. Andforgive the detailthere were mornings she even forgot her bra, padding around the house without a care.
Her body had changed tooher waist, her stomach, her legsnone were as they once were. Her hair, once glossy and styled, was now a mess: either a tangle of curls or a hasty bun with stray strands sticking out. And to think before, when we strolled through London, men would turn to look at her. I had been proud. Beautiful. Mine.
But that woman was gone.
Our home mirrored her state. The only thing Emily still excelled at was cookingher dishes were divine. But everything else? Dreadful.
I tried to tell her she couldnt let herself go like this, that she needed to find herself again. She would only smile sadly and say shed try. Months passed, and every day, I saw a stranger before me.
Until one day, Id had enough.
I made my decision: divorce.
There were no shouts, no scenes. She begged me to reconsider, but when she saw my resolve, she only sighed and whispered,
«Do what you want I thought you loved me.»
I didnt answer. What was the point in arguing over what love was or wasnt? I went to the courthouse, and soon after, we signed the papers.
I dont know if I was a good father. I sent child supportnothing more. I didnt want to see her. Not like that. Not the woman shed become.
Two years later
It was an autumn evening in Manchester. I wandered aimlessly, lost in thought, when suddenly, I saw her.
There was something in the way she moveda confidence in her stride that drew the eye. Her steps were light, elegant, self-assured. And when she came close enough, my heart stopped.
It was Emily.
But not the Emily Id left behind.
This woman was more radiant than shed ever been. High heels, a dress that hugged her figure, flawless hair, manicured nails, subtle yet striking makeup. And that perfumethe same one that used to drive me mad.
I must have gaped, because she laughed.
«Whats wrong? Dont recognise me? I told you Id changeyou just didnt believe me.»
I walked with her to the gym where she now trained daily. She spoke of the children, how well they were doing, how happy they were. Of herself, she said littlebut she didnt need to. Her eyes, her posture, her poise said it all.
And I
I remembered.
I remembered the mornings Id been annoyed to see her in pyjamas, hair unbrushed. I remembered the days her exhaustion frustrated me. I remembered the exact moment I decided to leavewhen my selfishness convinced me she was no longer enough.
And I remembered that in leaving her, I had abandoned my own children.
Before we parted, I gathered the courage to ask,
«Can I call you? I understand now Maybe we could try again.»
Emily looked at me calmly. Then she smiled and shook her head.
«Its too late, William. Take care.»
And she walked away.
I stood there, motionless, watching her disappear into the crowd.
Yes.
I understood.
But too late.
