The man I had always longed for left his wife for me, but I never foresaw how it would all unravel.
I had adored him since my university days. Some might call it lovereckless and blind. When he finally noticed me, I was utterly besotted. It happened a few years after graduation; we ended up at the same firm. Given our shared profession, it wasnt unusual, but I believed it was destiny.
He seemed perfect. In my youthful naivety, I never stopped to consider he was already married. Id never been wed myself and had no idea how it felt when a marriage crumbled. So when Edward chose to leave his wife for me, I felt no guilt. Little did I know the heartache it would bring. They say its trueyou cant build joy on anothers sorrow.
When he picked me, I was over the moon, willing to overlook any flaw. In reality, he wasnt the charming gentleman he appeared in public. His things were always strewn about the house, and he outright refused to lift a finger with chores. Everything fell to me, but back then, I didnt mind.
He moved on swiftly from his first marriage. Theyd had no childrenapparently, her parents had pushed for the union. With me, he insisted, it was different.
My happiness lasted only until I fell pregnant. At first, Edward was thrilled. We even hosted a grand celebration with family, who showered us with well-wishes. That evening remains one of my fondest memories, and I dont regret it. But from that moment, my blind devotion began to wane.
As my belly grew, Edward vanished more often. On maternity leave, I seldom saw him before midnight. He claimed late work meetings or office parties. At first, I brushed it off, but soon, it wore me down. Simple tasks became exhaustingI could barely bend to pick up his discarded socks.
I started wonderinghad we rushed into parenthood?
I knew love could fade, but not this quickly. Edward still brought flowers and chocolates, but all I wanted was his presence.
Eventually, the truth surfaced. Colleagues mentioned a new hire in our departmenta young woman. Staff shortages had worsened after my leave. The irony wasnt lost on me.
I wasnt certain it was her, but Edward was clearly preoccupiedalways at work, meetings, or parties. One day, I found a note in his pocket, signed with unfamiliar initials. I slipped it back, choosing ignorance.
Terrified and heavily pregnant, I endured his complaints about my «irrationality.» Every spat ended with his exasperated sigh. I knew confronting him would leave me alone, and fear paralyzed me. They say what you dread most often comes to pass.
No matter how tender Edward had once been, he was no true gentleman. The cruelest words Id ever heard: «Im not ready for a child,» and, «Theres someone else.» I barely recall his exact phrasingonly the shattering of my world.
I never thought Id muster the strength to divorce him. He clearly hadnt either. The next day, I tossed his belongings out. At least wed rented our flatno messy division.
«What about the child? How will you manage?» he sneered.
«Ill manage. Remote work, my parents helpIll make it work. My mother always said you were a cad. I shouldve listened.»
Perhaps impending motherhood steeled me. Alone, I might have stayed. But I refused to raise a son with a man like him.
His betrayal was so vile, I wanted nothing more to do with him. The scales had finally fallen from my eyes.
The months post-divorce, including childbirth, were brutal. Moving back with my parents was a reliefthey doted on their grandson. I missed Edward sometimes but pushed the thoughts away. Deep down, I knew Id done right by my son.
Once recovered, I sought work. Freelance legal translations became my lifeline. Lean months came, but my parents helped. Soon, I built a steady clientele and stood on my own.
My boy grew fastyears slipped by unnoticed. Only when he needed his own room did I realise. My parents begged us to stay, but I craved independence. By then, I could afford our own place.
Life settled. Nursery became school, then secondary. For the first time in years, I felt free. Then, Edward reappeared.
Our town is small, and in legal circles, word travels. He tracked down my office, regretful and reformed, insisting hed been young and foolish. He wanted to meet his son.
The law grants him that right. If hes determined, hell find a way. The thought terrifies me. Weeks have passed since his pleaIve stalled, too conflicted to decide. Part of me wants to flee, to shield my son.
Now, I wonderis this my penance? A reckoning for stealing him from his first wife? Perhaps we should move away.
The lesson is clear: love built on anothers pain crumbles in the end. True happiness must be earned, never borrowed.
