Jealousy Destroyed Me: When I Saw My Wife Step Out of Another Mans Car, I Lost Control and Ruined My Life
I stood by the window, fists clenched, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. The room was silent, but inside my head, one question screamed louder than Big Ben at noon: *Why is she so late?*
The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly.
It was late. Too late.
Then I saw headlights sweep across the street.
A sleek black car pulled up right outside the house. My breath caught. The driver was a mantall, confident, someone I didnt know.
Then the passenger door opened.
And out she stepped.
Something inside me shattered.
She was smiling. Laughing, even. Leaning into the window to say something that made him chuckle before she shut the door and strolled toward the house like it was just another Tuesday.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
*Who was he? How long had this been going on? Had I been this blind?*
The front door swung open, and she tossed her handbag onto the table with careless ease.
Who was that? I asked, my voice tight.
She paused, frowning. Who was *who*?
The bloke in the car. Who is he?
She sighed, rolling her eyes like Id asked her to explain the offside rule *again*. Aleks, dont start. That was JamesMarthas husband. He gave me a lift because it was late. Are we really doing this?
But I wasnt listening anymore.
My head spun. My blood boiled.
And before I knew it, my hand flew.
The slap echoed through the room.
She staggered back, hand pressed to her cheek. A trickle of blood seeped from her nose.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then I saw it in her eyes.
Not anger. Not hurt.
*Fear.*
I knew it was over.
No shouting. No tears.
She just grabbed her coat and left.
By morning, a solicitor was at my door with divorce papers.
The court took everythingeven my son.
I put up with your jealousy for years, she said, her voice colder than a British winter. But violence? Never.
I begged. Swore it was a mistake. A moment of madness. That itd never happen again.
She didnt care.
Then came the final blowin court, she claimed I was aggressive with our son.
A lie.
A calculated, cruel lie. Id never laid a finger on him. Never raised my voice.
But whod believe me? A man whod already hit his wife.
The judge didnt hesitate.
Full custody went to her.
I got a few hours a week. Supervised visits in a neutral room.
No bedtime stories. No Saturday pancakes.
For six months, I lived for those moments.
For the way hed sprint into my arms, squeeze me tight, and whisper how much he missed me.
And then, like clockwork, Id watch him leave all over again.
Until the day he said something that broke me completely.
He was growing up. Starting to notice things.
One afternoon, while playing with his toy cars, he let it slip:
Daddy, Mummy wasnt home last night. A lady came to stay with me.
My spine stiffened.
What lady? I asked, throat tight.
Dunno. She always comes when Mummy goes out at night.
I couldnt breathe.
Where does Mummy go?
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My hands curled into fists.
I needed the truth.
And when I found it, I exploded.
Shed hired a babysitter.
A stranger.
While I begged for more time with my son, she left him with someone shed found on Gumtree.
I rang her immediately.
Why the hell is our son with a stranger when Im right here?
Her voice was ice. Because its easier.
*Easier?!* My breath came in sharp bursts. Im his *father*. If youre not there, he should be with *me*.
She sighed, impatient. Aleks, Im not trekking him to your flat every time I have plans. Stop being dramatic.
I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.
What could I do? Report her? Fight in court?
What if I lost *again*?
One mistake.
One moment of rage.
And theyd taken everything.
But my son
I wont lose him.
I wont let some stranger raise him.
Ill fight.
Because hes all I have left.
