I was rooted to the spot by the kitchen window, staring out at the pitchblack night while my halfempty glass of whisky clinked against my palm. Every tick of the wall clock sounded like a tiny gunshot in the silence, each second dragging on like a bad sitcom episode.
Emily was late.Far too late.
Then headlights sliced through the gloom.
A sleek black saloon pulled up outside the terraced house on Oak Street. My heart did a little hop. The driver was a tall, confident bloke Id never seen before.
The passengerside door swung open, and she stepped out.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
She flashed a light, natural smile, leaned toward the stranger and whispered something that made him chucklea soft, almost conspiratorial laugh.
She closed the door and drifted back to the front door, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.
My blood boiled.
Who was this chap? How long had this been going on? Was it even the first time?
She slipped inside, tossed her handbag onto the kitchen table as if shed just come back from the post office.
Who was that? I asked, my voice low and sharp.
She froze, stared at me, and replied, Excuse me?
That bloke in the car. Who is he?
She sighed, clearly fed up. Thomas, not again It was Julies husband. He just gave me a lift, thats all. Are you serious?
I didnt hear her after that. All I could catch was the dull roar of rage in my head, a heat smouldering behind my eyes, a flood of dark thoughts.
My hand rose of its own accord.
The slap cracked through the room.
She stumbled back, hand pressed to her face, a thin trickle of blood spilling from her nose.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
She stared at me, eyes wide with terror.
A lump formed in my throat.
Id crossed a line.
A line I could never step back across.
She didnt scream. She didnt cry. Nothing.
She simply grabbed her coat and walked out.
The next morning a bailiff dropped off the divorce papers, complete with a £5,000 settlement offer.
Id lost everything even my son.
I put up with your jealousy for years, she said in our final chat, her voice as cold as a London winter, but Ill never tolerate the violence.
I begged her forgiveness, swearing it was a mistake, a moment of madness, that it would never happen again.
She wouldnt hear a word of it.
Then the final blow came in court: she claimed I was also violent towards our child.
A lie.A vicious lie that sealed my fate.
Id never lifted a hand at my boy, never even raised my voice at him.
But who believes a man whos already smacked his wife?
The judge didnt blink.
She was granted sole custody.
Me? A few hours a week, strictly supervised at a neutral venue.
No night visits, no mornings making toast for him.
For six months my life boiled down to those slivers of time the brief moments when hed bolt toward me, giggling, his tiny arms looping around my neck, only for me to watch him scamper off again and again.
Then, one afternoon, while he was pushing his little toy cars across the kitchen table, he looked up with that innocent voice of fiveyearolds and said:
Dad, last night Mum wasnt home. There was a lady with me.
My heart stopped.
A lady? Which lady? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
I dont know. She comes when Mum goes out.
A chill ran through me.
Where does she go?
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My fingers clenched. I needed answers.
When the truth finally surfaced, my throat tightened.
Emily had hired a nanny.
A foreign one.
While I was begging for more time with my own son, she was handing him over to a complete stranger.
I grabbed my phone and rang her.
Why is a stranger looking after our child when Im right here? I demanded.
Her voice was flat, icy. Because its easier.
Easier?! I snarled. Im his father! If he cant be with you, he should be with me!
She sighed. Thomas, Im not going to cross town every time I need to run an errand. Stop making everything about you.
My hand trembled around the receiver.
What could I do? Sue her? Fight for custody?
And if I lost again?
One slipup, one foolish moment, and everything would be gone.
But my son?
I wont let him slip away.
Ill fight. Because hes the only thing Ive got left.
