Now I am 52 years old. And I have nothing. No wife, no family, no children, no job nothing at all.
My name is Peter. My wife and I were married for 30 years. I was always the one who provided for the family, while my wife, Margaret, took care of the home. I never wanted her to work. I liked knowing she was there. But over time, it began to frustrate me.
We lived together respectfully, but the love had faded. I thought that was normal. It seemed fine. Then everything changed. One night, in a pub, I met Eleanor. She was 20 years younger than me. Beautiful, kind, full of laughterlike a dream come true.
We started seeing each other, and soon she became my mistress. After two months, I realised I no longer wanted to keep deceiving my wife. I dreaded going home after work. I knew I loved Eleanor, and I wanted her to be my wife.
A few days later, I told Margaret the truth. She didnt make a scene. Stayed perfectly calm. I thought she didnt love me eitherthats why she took it so well. But now I understand how much I hurt her.
We divorced. Sold the flat where wed spent so many years together. Eleanor insisted I shouldnt leave it to my ex-wife. So I didnt. Margaret bought a tiny studio. I used my savings to buy a two-bedroom flat for Eleanor.
I didnt help my ex-wife, not even a penny. I knew she had no money, that she wouldnt find work straight away. But at the time, I didnt care. Our sons, James and William, refused to speak to me. They felt Id betrayed their mother and couldnt forgive me.
Back then, it didnt matter much. Eleanor was pregnant, and we were eagerly awaiting the baby. Soon, a son was born. But the boy didnt look like meor even Eleanor. My mates doubted he was mine. I wouldnt listen.
Life with Eleanor was chaos. I worked long hours, took care of the house, the baby. Eleanor only ever asked for money and was always out. The flat was a mess, no meals ever ready. Shed stumble in at three or four in the morning, reeking of booze, picking fights over nothing.
In the end, I lost my job. Exhausted, angrymy work slipped. Three years passed like this. Then my brother, who never approved of Eleanor and always doubted the boy was mine, convinced me to get a DNA test. Turned outhe wasnt my son.
We divorced the moment the truth came out. All that time, I hadnt spoken to Margaret or the boys. After the divorce, I decided to go back to my first wife. Bought flowers, wine, a cakewent to see her. But Margaret didnt live there anymore. The new owner gave me her address.
I went. A man answered the door. Turned out Margaret had landed a good job, married a colleague. She was happy. Thriving.
Later, I spotted her in a café. Asked her to take me back. She looked at me like I was daft and walked away. Now I see my mistake. What did I want? What did I gain? Why did I leave my wife for some young girl?
Now I am 52 years old. And I have nothing. No wife, no jobeven my sons wont speak to me. I lost everything that ever mattered. And it was all my fault. A mistake I can never undo.
