Im 52 now, and Ive got nothing left. No wife, no family, no kids, no job nothing at all.
My names Peter. My wife and I were married for 30 years. I was always the one who provided for us, while my wife, Margaret, took care of the home. I never wanted her to workI liked having her there. But over time, it started to grate on me.
We lived together, respecting each other, but the love faded. I thought that was normal. I was fine with it. Then everything changed. One night, at a pub, I met Emily. She was 20 years youngergorgeous, sweet, so much fun. Like a dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and soon she became my mistress. After two months, I realised I didnt want to keep lying to Margaret. I dreaded going home after work. I was in love with Emily, and I wanted her to be my wife.
A few days later, I told Margaret the truth. She didnt make a scenejust stayed calm. I thought maybe she didnt love me either, the way she took it so quietly. But now I see how much I hurt her.
We divorced. Sold the flat wed spent so many years in. Emily insisted I shouldnt leave it for my ex-wife, and I listened. Margaret bought a tiny studio flat. I used my savings to get a two-bedroom place for Emily.
I didnt help my ex-wifedidnt give her a single penny. I knew she had no money, that she wouldnt find work straight away. But back then, I didnt care. Our sons, James and William, refused to speak to me. They felt Id betrayed their mother, and they couldnt forgive me.
At the time, I didnt care much. Emily was pregnant, and we were excited for the baby. Soon, our son was born. But he didnt look like meor even like Emily. My mates doubted he was mine. I wouldnt listen.
Life with Emily was a mess. I worked long hours, took care of the house and the baby. All Emily did was ask for money and stay out all night. The place was always a wreck, no food ready when I got home. Shed stumble in at 3 or 4 AM, reeking of booze, picking fights over nothing.
Eventually, I lost my job. I was exhausted, angrymy work slipped. Three years went by like that. Then my brother, who never liked Emily and always doubted the boy was mine, convinced me to get a DNA test. Turned outhe wasnt my son.
We divorced as soon as the truth came out. By then, I hadnt spoken to Margaret or my boys in years. After the divorce, I decided to go back to my first wife. Bought flowers, a nice bottle of wine, a cakewent to see her. But she wasnt there. The new owner gave me her address.
I knocked, and a man answered. Turned out Margaret had landed a decent job and married a colleague. She was happy, doing well.
Later, I bumped into her at a café. Asked her to take me back. She looked at me like I was daft and walked away. Now I see the mistake I made. What was I after? What did I even gain? Why did I leave my wife for some young girl?
Im 52 now. And Ive got nothing. No wife, no job, my own kids wont speak to me. I lost everything that ever mattered. And its all my fault. Worst part? Theres no fixing it.
