25 October 2025
Today, as usual, I was playing a board game with my son Oliver. Out of the blue there was a knock at the front door. I opened it and there stood a woman I hadnt thought of in years my former wife, Sarah Thompson.
Sarah and I had been married for seven years when Oliver was born. He was only six then, and life was comfortable enough. We adored our little lad and often talked about having another child Id really liked a daughter.
As the years went by Sarah grew distant. I sensed something was off, and eventually we started sleeping in separate beds. She blamed it on fatigue and a bad mood, but the atmosphere at home was changing.
A few friends later pointed out that theyd seen Sarah being driven to work by a younger man who opened the car door for her with a courteous smile. I didnt want to believe it; I clung to the hope that our love could survive, especially for the sake of our son. I decided not to postpone the conversation any longer, so that evening I asked Sarah directly if she was seeing someone. She was silent, packed her bags and left, leaving Oliver with me.
I was, of course, relieved that Oliver stayed with me, but I was also taken aback by Sarahs cold indifference towards her own child. Was she truly such a bad mother? Did she not love him?
The early days were rough. There were many moments with Oliver when I simply didnt know what to do. I turned to family, friends, and spent hours reading parenting advice online. At first Oliver missed his mother terribly, but eventually he settled in.
Four years later things improved. I stopped skimping on anything for Oliver and we began taking trips a weekend in the Lake District, a holiday down to Cornwall, a quick stay in Edinburgh. Our lives felt brighter.
One ordinary afternoon, while Oliver and I were again engrossed in our game, the door knocked once more. I opened it to find Sarah, looking exactly as she had four years ago, perhaps even a little fresher. Oliver paid her no mind. She stood there, unsure what to do. She rushed forward, tried to hug him, showered him with apologies and declared her undying love, but Oliver turned away.
I thought it would help to invite everyone for a cuppa, hoping to ease the tension. For the first ten minutes the room was dead silent and awkward. Then Sarah started to speak
It turned out she wanted to take Oliver with her. I gave Oliver a chance to decide. I could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes, so I suggested he could spend a few days with his mother to see how it felt.
Throughout all this, the thought of being alone haunted me. If Oliver liked his mothers plan, I would be left on my own, wouldnt I?
The next morning Oliver returned. He told me that his mother wasnt alone, but he wanted to stay with me. Hell keep in touch with Sarah, yet he isnt ready to move out.
Looking back, I realise that love is not about possession but about giving the people you care for the space to choose their own path. The lesson Ive learned is that true strength lies in letting go when needed, while remaining a steady, supportive presence for those you love.
