Jealousy Undid Me: When I Saw My Wife Step from Another Mans Car, I Lost Control and Ruined My Life
I stood by the window, fists clenched, my heart pounding so fiercely I feared it might burst. The room was silent, save for the deafening tick of the clock on the wall. It was latefar too late. Then I saw headlights pierce the gloom, a sleek black motorcar halting before the house. My breath caught. Behind the wheel sat a man I didnt knowtall, self-assured.
The passenger door opened.
And out she stepped.
Something inside me snapped.
She was smiling, as natural as you please, then leaned into the window, murmuring something that made him laugh. The door clicked shut, and she strolled toward the house, unhurried. My body coiled tight.
Who was he? How long had this been going on? How had I been so blind?
The door swung open. She tossed her handbag onto the table with careless ease.
«Who was that?» My voice was brittle.
She frowned. «Who was who?»
«The man in the car. Who is he?»
She sighed, as if weary of foolish questions. «Oliver, dont start. That was James, Marthas husband. He gave me a lift home because it was late. Must we quarrel over nothing?»
But I scarcely heard her.
My mind whirled. My blood burned.
And thenmy hand struck.
The slap echoed through the room. She stumbled back, fingers pressed to her cheek. A trickle of blood seeped from her nose. The silence that followed was chilling.
Then I saw it in her eyes.
Not anger. Not pain.
Fear.
I knew thenit was over.
No tears. No shouts.
She simply took her coat and left.
By morning, a solicitor stood at my door with divorce papers.
The court took everythingeven my boy.
«I endured your jealousy for years,» she said, voice like ice. «But violence? Never.»
I begged forgiveness. Swore it was madness, a moments lapse. That it would never happen again.
She didnt care.
Then came the final blowin court, she claimed I was harsh with our son.
A lie.
A cold, calculated falsehood. Id never laid a hand on him. Never raised my voice.
But who would believe me? A man whod struck his wife.
The judge didnt hesitate.
Full custody went to her.
I was granted scrapsa few hours each week, supervised visits in some sterile room.
No mornings making his breakfast. No bedtime stories.
For six months, I lived for those fleeting momentsfor when hed sprint into my arms, cling tight, whisper how he missed me.
Then, once more, Id watch him leave.
Until one day, he let slip the truth.
He was growing. Noticing things.
As we played with his toy trains, he spoke without thought:
«Papa, Mummy wasnt home last night. A lady came to stay with me.»
My spine stiffened.
«What lady?» My throat was dry.
«Dunno. She always comes when Mummy goes out at night.»
I could scarcely breathe.
«And where does Mummy go?»
He shrugged. «She doesnt tell me.»
My hands balled into fists.
I had to know.
And when I found outit shattered me.
Shed hired a stranger.
A babysitter.
While I pleaded for more time with my son, she left him in the care of some unknown woman.
I rang her at once.
«Why is our boy with a stranger when Im here?»
Her voice was cold. «Its simpler this way.»
«Simpler?» My breath came heavy. «Im his father! If youre not there, he should be with me.»
She sighed, impatient. «Oliver, I wont drag him to your flat every time I have plans. Stop making a scene.»
My knuckles whitened around the receiver.
What could I do? Report her? Fight in court?
What if I lost again?
One mistake.
One burst of rage.
And everything was torn away.
But my son
I wont lose him.
I wont let some stranger raise him.
Ill fight.
For hes all I have left.
