Hey love, you wont believe the mess Ive gotten myself into. I was just standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the dark London night, glass of whisky halfempty clutched in my fist. The clock ticked away, each second feeling like an eternity.
Emma was late. Way later than she ever is.
Then the street lights flickered on and a sleek black sedan rolled up in front of the house. My heart lurched. Inside, a tall, confident bloke Id never seen before a complete stranger.
He opened the passenger door and she stepped out.
A cold shiver ran through me.
She smiled that easy, natural, conspiratorial grin she always has. She leaned in, whispered something, and the man laughed, a soft, intimate chuckle.
She closed the door, walked back inside like nothing had happened, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me.
My blood boiled.
Who was this guy? How long had this been going on? Was it the first time?
Emma swung the front door open, tossed her bag on the table as if it were nothing.
Who was that? I asked, voice low and sharp.
She froze, looked at me, confused. Excuse me?
This man in the car. Who is he?
She sighed, clearly irritated. Tom, not again Hes Julies husband. He just gave me a lift, thats all. Are you serious?
I didnt hear a word after that. All I could feel was this low, seething rage, a hot pressure in my head and a torrent of dark thoughts.
My hand lifted before I could stop it.
The slap echoed through the room.
She stumbled back, hand pressed to her face, a thin line of blood spilling from her nose.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
She stared at me, eyes wide with fear.
A knot formed in my throat.
Id crossed a line.
A line I could never go back from.
She didnt scream, didnt cry. She just grabbed her coat and left.
The next morning a bailiff handed me the divorce papers.
Id lost everything even my son.
I put up with your jealousy for years, she said in our last conversation, her voice as cold as ice. But Ill never accept the violence.
I begged her to forgive me, swore it was a oneoff mistake, a moment of madness that would never happen again.
She wouldnt hear a word of it.
Then the final blow in court she claimed Id been violent with our boy too.
A lie.
A nasty lie that sealed my fate.
Id never raised my hand on him. Never shouted at him.
But who believes a man whos already hit his wife?
The judge didnt hesitate. She was granted sole custody.
Me? Just a few hours a week, supervised visits in neutral locations.
No nights at home. No mornings making him breakfast.
For six months my life boiled down to those scarce hours those brief moments when hed race to me, laughing, his little arms around my neck.
Then Id have to watch him walk away, over and over.
One afternoon, while he was pushing his toy cars across the kitchen table, he said in that innocent voice of his:
Dad, last night mum wasnt there. There was a lady with me.
My heart stopped.
A lady? Which lady? I asked, trying to stay calm.
I dont know. She comes when mum goes out at night.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Where does she go?
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My fingers clenched. I needed answers.
When I finally found out, it felt like my throat was tied in knots.
Shed hired a nanny.
A foreign woman.
While I was begging for more time with my own son, she was leaving him with a stranger.
I grabbed my phone and called her.
Why is a stranger looking after our boy when Im here? I demanded.
Her voice was flat, icy. Because its easier.
Easier?! My anger roared. Im his father! If he cant be with you, he should be with me!
She sighed. Tom, Im not going to drive across town every single time I have a commitment. Stop making everything about you.
My phone trembled in my hand.
What could I do? Sue her? Fight for custody?
And what if I lost again?
One mistake. One slipup.
And theyd taken everything from me.
But my son? Im not going to let him slip away.
Ill fight, because hes the only thing Ive got left.
