The man I had adored since my university days finally left his wife for me, and I never imagined how it would end. I had first admired him while studying at Oxford, and my feelings were the sort of naïve, blind love you see in cheap romance novels. When he finally turned his attention toward me, I lost my head completely. That happened, to be honest, a few years after we both graduated and ended up in the same firm in London. We shared the same specialty, which was hardly unusual, but I told myself it was fate.
He seemed like the English gentleman Id always dreamed of, and at the time I didnt mind that he was already married. I had never been married myself, so I didnt know what it felt like to see a marriage crumble, and I felt no shame when James decided to abandon his wife for me. Who could have guessed it would bring me such pain? As the saying goes, you cannot build your happiness on someone elses misery.
When he chose me, I felt on cloud nine and was ready to forgive anything. Yet, in everyday life he was far from the charming prince he presented in public. His belongings littered the flat, and he flatout refused to wash the dishes. All the housework fell on my shoulders, but back then I didnt mind a bit.
He quickly forgot his former marriage. They had no children, and it turned out that his parents had pushed him into that union. With me, he kept promising that everything would be different.
My bliss was shortlived. Everything changed when I discovered I was pregnant. At first James was overjoyed about the baby, and we even threw a big family gathering to celebrate. Relatives wished us love and good health for our soontobe child. That evening remains one of my brightest memories, and I have no regrets about it. But from that point onward my blind devotion began to dim.
The larger my belly grew, the less often I saw James. I was on maternity leave, so we only met late at night. He stayed late at the office and attended countless company afterhours drinks. At first it didnt bother me, but soon the exhaustion set in. The chores grew harder because I could no longer bend down to pick up his stray socks.
I started to wonder whether we had rushed into having a child. I knew feelings could fade over time, yet I hadnt expected it to happen so quickly. James still brought me flowers and chocolates, but all I wanted was his presence.
Soon it became clear that his frequent outings werent innocent. A colleague mentioned, offhand, that a new young woman had joined our department. The team was already shorthanded, and when I went on maternity leave the workload became critical. How ironic.
I wasnt sure it was her, but James definitely had someone; he never had a free minute. It was either work, a meeting, or another corporate cocktail he couldnt miss. One day I found a scrap of paper in his jacket pocket with initials I didnt recognise. I cant say why I took it out, but I slipped it back and pretended not to have seen it.
Being alone at seven months pregnant was terrifying, and yet James kept complaining that I had become too nervous. Every argument ended with a sigh of disappointment from him. I realised that if I raised the issue, I would end up on my own. The fear of losing him was so strong that nothing else could occupy my mind. As they say, fear can become a selffulfilling prophecy.
No matter how smoothly James had courted me, he was never a true gentleman. The worst words I ever heard were: Im not ready to have a child, and, I have someone else. I cant even recall exactly how he said them, but in that moment I thought I was losing my mind.
I never imagined I could summon the courage to ask for a divorce. He, too, seemed surprised that I would no longer tolerate his behaviour, let alone that I would toss all his things out the next day. I was relieved we rented a flat, because at least we didnt have to share a mortgage.
And the baby? What will you do?
Ill find a way. Ill work from home, and my parents have always offered help. My mother warned me he was a philanderer I should have listened.
It was probably my responsibility toward my unborn son that gave me confidence. Alone, I would never have had the bravery to walk away. I also realised I didnt want to raise a child with a father like him. His betrayal was so cowardly that I wanted nothing more to do with him, as if a veil had lifted from my eyes.
The first months after the divorce, including the birth, were terribly hard. I moved back in with my parents, which delighted them, especially my grandparents who were thrilled to have a grandson. I cant say I didnt miss James at times, but I tried not to dwell on him. Deep down I knew I had made the right choice and could give my son everything he needed.
Then, unexpectedly, he reappeared. James now says he regrets everything and wants to meet his son. Do I want that? Perhaps I should even move to another city, like Manchester, to start anew.
In the end, I learned that love built on lies crumbles faster than any storm, and the only steady foundation you can rely on is your own integrity and the courage to protect those who truly matter.
