Now I’m 52. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no family, no kids, no job absolutely nothing.
My names Peter. My wife and I were married for 30 years. I was always the breadwinner, while my wife, Margaret, took care of the home. I never wanted her to work. I liked having her there. But over time, she started getting on my nerves.
We lived together respectfully, but the love fizzled out. I thought that was normal. Fine by me. Then everything changed. One night, in a pub, I met Eleanor. She was 20 years youngergorgeous, sweet, and full of life. Like a dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and before long, she was my mistress. After a couple of months, I realised I didnt want to keep deceiving Margaret. I dreaded going home after work. I was in love with Eleanor, and I wanted her to be my wife.
A few days later, I came clean to Margaret. No screaming, no dramajust calm acceptance. I thought she didnt love me either, the way she took it so quietly. Now, of course, I see how much I hurt her.
We divorced. Sold the flat wed spent years in. Eleanor insisted I shouldnt let my ex-wife keep it, so I didnt. Margaret bought a tiny studio. Me? I blew my savings on a two-bed flat for Eleanor.
Didnt give Margaret a penny. Knew she was broke, knew she wouldnt find work straight away. But at the time? Couldnt care less. Our kids, William and Oliver, wouldnt speak to me. Thought Id betrayed their mum, and fair enough.
Back then, I didnt care. Eleanor was pregnant, and we were over the moon. Soon, a son arrived. Except he didnt look like me. Or Eleanor. My mates raised eyebrows. I ignored them.
Life with Eleanor was a mess. I worked myself ragged, ran the house, took care of the baby. Eleanor? Just demanded money and left every night. The place was a tip, never any dinner ready. Shed stumble in at 3 AM, reeking of gin, picking fights over nothing.
Then I lost my job. Exhausted, angry, doing shoddy work. Three years of this. Then my brotherwhod never liked Eleanor and always doubted the kid was minetalked me into a DNA test. Turned out, he wasnt.
Divorced Eleanor the second the truth came out. By then, I hadnt spoken to Margaret or the boys in ages. After the split, I decided to win her back. Bought flowers, a nice bottle of wine, a cakethe works. Turned up at her place. Except she didnt live there anymore. The new owner gave me her address.
I went. A bloke answered the door. Turns out Margaret had landed a decent job and married a colleague. Happy. Sorted.
Later, I spotted her in a café. Begged her to take me back. She looked at me like I was daft and walked off. Now? I get what a plonker Ive been. What was I after? What did I gain? Why did I ditch my wife for some young thing?
Now Im 52. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no job, my kids wont even pick up the phone. Lost everything that ever mattered. And its all my own stupid fault. Worst part? Cant even fix it.
