Im standing motionless by the window, watching the dark night through the glass. My fist grips a halfempty glass of whisky. Every tick of the clock fills the silence, each second stretching cruelly.
Emily is late.
Way too late.
Then headlights slice through the street.
A black saloon pulls up in front of our terraced house in Brixton. My heart clenches. Behind the wheel sits a tall, confident stranger.
The passengerside door opens.
She steps out.
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
She smilesa light, natural, conspiratorial smile. She leans toward him, whispers something, and he chuckles, a low, intimate laugh.
She closes the door and walks back to the house, oblivious to the storm raging inside me.
My blood boils.
Who is this man? How long has this been going on? Is this the first time?
Emily opens the front door and tosses her bag onto the table as if nothing has happened.
Who was that? my voice is low and sharp.
She freezes, looks at me, startled. What?
This man in the car. Who is he?
She sighs heavily, exasperated. Tom, not again Hes Julies husband. He just gave me a lift, thats all. Are you serious?
I cant hear her any more.
All I hear is a dull rage filling me, a burning heat in my head, a torrent of dark thoughts.
My hand rises before I can stop it.
The slap echoes through the room.
She steps back, hand pressed to her face. A thin line of blood trickles from her nose.
The silence that follows is unbearable.
She stares at me, eyes wide with fear.
A knot tightens in my throat.
Ive crossed a line.
A line I can never step back across.
She doesnt scream. She doesnt cry. Nothing.
She simply grabs her coat and leaves.
The next morning a bailiff hands me the divorce papers.
Ive lost everything even my son.
I put up with your jealousy for years, she says in our final conversation, her voice as cold as ice. But violence? Never.
I beg her to forgive me. I swear it was a mistake, a moment of madness, that it would never happen again.
She wont hear a word.
Then the final blow lands in the courtroom she claims Im also violent with our child.
A lie.
A vicious lie that seals my fate.
Ive never raised my hand against him. Ive never shouted at him.
But who believes a man whos already hit his wife?
The judge doesnt hesitate.
She is granted sole custody.
Me? A few hours a week, supervised visits in a neutral setting.
No nights at the house. No mornings where I can make his breakfast.
For six months my life shrinks to those thin slices of time.
Those rare moments when he runs to me laughing, his little arms around my neck.
Then I have to watch him walk away, over and over.
Until the day he says something that shatters me.
The truth my fiveyearold son reveals.
Hes growing, understanding more each day.
One afternoon, while hes pushing his toy cars across the kitchen table, he looks up and says in an innocent voice:
Dad, last night Mum wasnt home. There was a lady with me.
My heart stops.
A lady? Which lady? I ask, trying to stay calm.
I dont know. She comes when Mum goes out at night.
A chill runs through me.
Where does she go?
He shrugs. She doesnt tell me.
My fingers clench.
I have to know.
When the truth comes out, my throat tightens.
Emily has hired a nanny.
A foreign woman.
While I scramble for any extra time with my own son, she hands him over to a stranger.
I grab my phone and call her.
Why is a stranger looking after our boy when Im right here?
Her voice is calm, icy. Because its easier.
Easier?! My anger roars. Im his father! If he cant be with you, he should be with me!
She sighs. James, Im not going to drive across the city every time I have an appointment. Stop making everything about you.
My phone trembles in my hand.
What can I do? Sue her? Fight for custody?
And what if I lose again?
One mistake. One moment of madness.
And everything is taken from me.
But my son?
I will not let him slip away.
I will fight.
Because he is the only thing I have left.
