Jealousy Destroyed Me: When I Saw My Wife Step Out of Another Mans Car, I Lost Control and Ruined My Life
I stood by the window, fists clenched, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. The room was silent, but inside my head, one question echoed: *Why is she so late?*
The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second dragging.
It was late. Far too late.
Then headlights lit up the street.
A sleek black car pulled up outside. My breath caught. A man was behind the wheeltall, confident, someone I didnt recognise.
Then the passenger door opened.
And she stepped out.
Something inside me shattered.
She was smiling, so casually it made my blood run cold. She leaned into the window, said something to the driver, and he *laughed*.
Then she shut the door and walked calmly toward the house.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
*Who was that man? How long had this been going on? How could I have been so blind?*
The door opened, and she strolled in, tossing her bag onto the table without a care.
“Who was that?” I asked, my voice tight.
She paused, frowning. “Who was who?”
“The man in the car. Who is he?”
She sighed, annoyed, as if I were asking something ridiculous. “Edward, dont start. It was James, Marthas husband. He gave me a lift because it was late. Are we really going to argue about this?”
But I wasnt listening anymore.
My mind was spinning. My blood boiled.
And then my hand moved on its own.
The slap echoed through the room.
She stumbled back, pressing a hand to her face. A trickle of blood ran from her nose.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then I saw it in her eyes.
Not anger. Not pain. *Fear.*
I knew it was over.
There was no going back.
She didnt scream. She didnt cry.
Just grabbed her coat and left.
The next morning, a solicitor knocked on my door with divorce papers.
The court took everything from meeven my son.
“I put up with your jealousy for years,” she said later, her voice icy. “But violence? Never.”
I begged for forgiveness. Pleaded that it was a mistake, a moment of madness, that it would never happen again.
She didnt care.
Then came the final blowin court, she claimed Id been aggressive with our son.
A lie.
A cruel, calculated lie. Id never laid a hand on him. Never raised my voice.
But who would believe me? A man whod already hit his wife.
The judge didnt hesitate.
She got full custody.
I got scrapsa few hours a week, supervised visits in a neutral place.
No nights together. No mornings making him breakfast.
For six months, I lived for those moments.
For the way hed run into my arms, hug me tight, and whisper how much he missed me.
And then, every time, Id have to watch him leave again.
Until one day, he said something that shattered me completely.
The truth my five-year-old son let slip.
He was growing up. Starting to notice things.
One afternoon, as he played with his toy cars, he said it so casually:
“Daddy, Mummy wasnt home last night. A lady came to look after me.”
My body went rigid.
“What lady?” I asked, my throat tight.
“Dont know. She always comes when Mummy goes out at night.”
I couldnt breathe.
“Where does Mummy go?”
He shrugged. “She doesnt tell me.”
My hands curled into fists.
I needed the truth.
And when I found it, something inside me snapped.
Shed hired a babysitter.
A stranger.
While I begged for more time with my son, she left him with someone I didnt even know.
I called her immediately.
“Why is our son with a stranger when Im right here?”
Her voice was cold. “Because its easier this way.”
“*Easier?*” My breath came heavy. “Im his father! If youre not there, he should be with me.”
She sighed impatiently. “Edward, Im not dragging him to your place every time I have plans. Stop making a scene.”
I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.
What could I do? Report her? Fight her in court?
What if I lost *again*?
One mistake.
One moment of rage.
And Id lost everything.
But my son
I wont lose him.
I wont let a stranger raise him.
Ill fight.
Because hes all I have left.
