**Diary Entry A Life of Twists and Turns**
I never planned to marry. Had it not been for the relentless courtship of my future husband, Id still be a free spirit. Thomas fluttered around me like a lovesick moth, never letting me out of his sight, bending over backward to please meyoud think I was made of glass. In the end, I gave in. We married.
Thomas quickly became my home, my comfort. Like a pair of well-worn slippers. A year later, our son, William, was born. Thomas worked in another city, coming home only on weekends, always bringing treats for William and me. One visit, as I sorted his laundrya habit Id formed after once washing his driving licencea folded slip of paper tumbled from his trouser pocket. Unfolding it, I found a long list of school supplies (it was August) and, at the bottom, in a childs scrawl: *”Daddy, please come home soon.”*
So this was how my husband amused himself while away! A bigamist! No hystericsjust my bag under my arm, William (not yet three) by the hand, and off to my mothers. She gave us a little room: *”Stay till you sort things out.”*
Revenge simmered in me. I remembered an old schoolmate, Robert. Hed fancied me for yearswhy not have a fling? I called him.
*”Robbie! Still single?”*
*”Natalie? Blimey! Married, divorcedwhats the difference? Fancy meeting up?”*
Our affair lasted six months. Thomas sent monthly child support, handed silently to my mother before he left. I knew hed moved in with Catherine Evans, a woman with a daughter from a previous marriage. Catherine adored himknitted him jumpers, cooked hearty meals. Id throw Catherine in his face for years, convinced our marriage was over.
Then, over coffee (discussing divorce), memories flooded back. Thomas confessed he still loved me, regretted everything, didnt know how to shake off persistent Catherine. My heart softened. We reconciledand he never knew about Robert. Catherine left town for good.
Seven happy years passed before Thomas crashed his car. Surgeries, rehab, a walking sticktwo years of agony. The ordeal broke him. He drank heavily, withdrew, refused help. Meanwhile, at work, I found a shoulder to cry onPaul. Married, with a second child on the way, he listened, consoled me. How we ended up in bed, Ill never knowhe was shorter than me, not my type!
Paul whisked me to galleries, concerts, ballets. When his daughter was born, he vanishednew job, no more fun. I didnt mind; hed been a temporary salve. Thomas kept drinking, a shadow of himself.
Five years later, Paul reappeared, proposing marriage. I laughed. Thomas, briefly sober, took a job in Germany. I played the dutiful wife and mother. He returned, we renovated, bought gadgetslife seemed good. Then he relapsed. Friends carried him home, drunk and helpless. Id scour the neighbourhood, finding him passed out on benches, pockets turned inside out.
One spring morning, gloomy at the bus stop, I barely noticed the birds or sunshine. A whisper at my ear: *”Perhaps I can help your sorrow?”* I turnedgood Lord, what a handsome man! And here I was, 45could I still turn heads? Flustered, I leapt onto the bus. He waved as it pulled away.
Edward (his name) was relentless. Every morning, he waited at that stop. Id walk faster, craning to see if he was there. Hed blow kisses, once brought red tulips. *”What will the girls at work say?”* I protested. He laughed, handing them to an eavesdropping old lady, who giggled: *”Bless you, lad! Hope shes wild in bed!”* Mortified, I blushed.
Edwarddivorced, teetotal, a retired athlete at 57was magnetic. I drowned in passion for three years, torn between him and home. Returning from his arms, Id cling to Thomas, drunk and sour but *mine*. My son knew; hed spotted us at a restaurant. *”Just a colleague,”* I lied. William only asked me not to leave his dad.
A divorced friend warned: *”Ditch these flings before they drown you.”* I listenedbut only when Edward raised his hand at me did I wake. The spell broke. He begged, stalked meI stood firm.
Thomas knew. Edward had called, boasting Id leave. *”Listening to him,”* Thomas admitted, *”I wanted to die. I drove you away.”*
Ten years on, we have two granddaughters. Over coffee, Thomas takes my hand: *”Natalie, dont look elsewhere. Im your happiness. Believe me?”*
*”Of course, my love.”*
**Lesson learned:** Passion burns bright but fades; true belonging outlasts storms. Sometimes, the heart must wander to know where it truly rests.
