I ran into my ex-wife two years after the divorce. In that moment, everything became clearyet when I suggested starting over, she only smiled and shook her head.
When our second child was born, Emily stopped caring about how she looked. Before, shed change outfits several times a day, always polished, every detail flawlessly matched. But after coming home from the hospital, it was as if shed forgotten her wardrobe held anything but an old t-shirt and worn-out joggers.
She wore them all day, sometimes even to bed. When I asked why, shed say it was easier for night feeds. It made sensebut what happened to the woman who swore, “A lady should always be a lady, no matter what”? She never said it anymore. Nor did she mention her favourite salon, the gym, her stylist. And yesforgive the detailsometimes shed forget her bra in the mornings, padding around the house without a care.
Her body had changed too. Her waist, her stomach, her legsnothing was the same. Her hair, once glossy and styled, was now a mess: wild curls or a hasty bun with stray strands sticking out. And to think back when we strolled through London, men would turn to look. Id been proud. She was beautiful. Mine.
That woman was gone.
Our home mirrored her mood. The only thing Emily kept perfect was the kitchenher cooking remained divine. But the rest? Depressing.
I tried telling her she couldnt let herself go like this. That she needed to find herself again. Shed only smile sadly and promise to try. Months passed, and every day, I saw a stranger.
Then one day, Id had enough.
I chose divorce.
No shouting, no theatrics. She begged me to reconsider, but when she saw my mind was set, she just sighed and murmured,
“Do what you want I thought you loved me.”
I didnt answer. Arguing about love felt pointless. I filed the papers, and soon, it was done.
I dont know if I was a good father. I sent child support, nothing more. I couldnt bear to see hernot like that. Not the woman shed become.
Two years later
An autumn afternoon in Manchester. I was wandering aimlessly, lost in thought, when I spotted her.
There was something in the way she moved, a confidence that turned heads. Her stride was light, elegant, effortless. And when she came close enough, my heart stopped.
It was Emily.
But not the Emily Id left behind.
This woman was more radiant than ever. Sky-high heels, a dress that hugged her curves, hair perfectly styled, nails flawless, makeup understated but stunning. And that perfumethe same one that used to drive me mad.
I mustve gaped, because she laughed.
“Whats wrong? Dont recognise me? I told you Id change, but you didnt believe me.”
I walked her to the gym she now attended daily. She spoke of the kids, how well they were doing, how happy. About herself, she said littlebut she didnt need to. Her glow said it all.
And I
I remembered.
The mornings Id scowled at her messy hair and pyjamas. The days her exhaustion annoyed me. The exact moment I decided to leave, when my selfishness whispered she wasnt enough.
And I rememberedwalking away from her meant walking away from my children too.
Before we parted, I gathered the courage to ask:
“Can I call you? I get it now Maybe we could try again.”
Emily looked at me, calm. Then she smiled and shook her head.
“Its too late, James. Take care.”
And she was gone.
I stood there, frozen, watching her vanish into the crowd.
Yes.
I understood.
But far too late.
