I ran into my ex-wife two years after the divorce. Right then, it all made sense to me, but she just smiled and shook her head when I suggested giving us another shot
When our second child was born, Emily stopped caring about how she looked. Before, shed change outfits multiple times a dayalways put together, every detail perfectly matched. But after coming home from the hospital, it was like she forgot her wardrobe existed outside of an old T-shirt and a pair of worn-out joggers.
Shed wear them all day, sometimes even to bed. When I asked why, shed say it was easier for nighttime feedings. Fair enough, but what happened to the woman who always said, «A lady should always carry herself with pride»? She never brought it up anymore. No more talk of her favourite salon, the gym, or her hairstylist. And, forgive me for saying it, sometimes shed even forget her bra in the morning and walk around the house without a care.
Her body had changed too. Her waist, her stomach, her legsnothing like before. Her hair, once shiny and styled, was a messeither a tangled nest of curls or a messy bun with strands sticking out everywhere. And to think back when wed stroll through London, men would turn their heads. I used to feel so proud. Beautiful. Mine.
But that woman was gone.
Our home reflected her mood. The only thing Emily still nailed was cookingher meals were incredible. But everything else? Depressing.
I tried telling her she couldnt let herself go like this, that she needed to find herself again. Shed just give me a tired smile and say shed try. Months passed, and every day, I saw less of the woman Id married.
Then one day, Id had enough.
I made my decision: divorce.
No screaming, no drama. She begged me to reconsider, but when she saw I wouldnt budge, she just sighed and muttered, «Do what you want I thought you loved me.»
I didnt answer. What was the point? I filed the papers, and soon enough, it was done.
I dont know if I was a good dad. I sent child support, nothing more. I couldnt bear to see her. Not like that. Not the shell shed become.
Two years later
It was an autumn afternoon in Manchester. I was lost in thought, wandering aimlessly, when suddenly, I spotted her.
There was something in the way she movedconfidence in every step. Graceful, effortless, like she owned the pavement. And when she got close enough, my heart stopped.
It was Emily.
But not the Emily Id left behind.
This woman was even more stunning than when Id first met her. Sky-high heels, a dress that hugged her curves, flawless makeup, nails done, hair perfect. And that perfume the same one that used to drive me wild.
I mustve been gaping, because she laughed. «Whats wrong? Dont recognise me? I told you Id changeyou just didnt believe me.»
I walked with her to the gym she now went to daily. She told me about the kids, how well they were doing, how happy they were. About herself, she didnt say muchbut she didnt need to. The way she held herself said it all.
And me?
I remembered.
I remembered those mornings when her messy hair and pyjamas annoyed me, when I resented her for not being the polished woman she once was. I remembered the days her exhaustion frustrated me. I remembered the exact moment I decided to leave, when my selfishness convinced me she wasnt enough anymore.
And I remembered by leaving her, Id left my own kids too.
Before we said goodbye, I gathered the courage to ask, «Can I call you? I get it now Maybe we could try again.»
Emily looked at me, calm as ever. Then she smiled and shook her head.
«Too late, James. Take care.»
And she walked away.
I stood there, frozen, watching her disappear into the crowd.
Yeah.
Id finally understood.
Just too late.
