I sat motionless by the window, the night outside a black swathe of sky. My grip tightened around a halfempty glass of whisky, the ticking of the mantel clock filling the stillness, each second stretching like a drawnout sigh.
She was late. Far too late.
Then headlights sliced through the gloom. A sleek black sedan pulled up in front of our semidetached house in a quiet Manchester suburb. My chest tightened. Behind the wheel sat a tall, confident stranger.
The passenger door swung open and she stepped out.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. She turned to him with a light, easy smile, leaned in and whispered something that made him laugha soft, intimate chuckle. She closed the door and drifted back toward the house, oblivious to the storm gathering inside me.
My blood boiled. Who was this man? How long had this been going on? Was it the first time?
She opened the front door, tossed her handbag onto the kitchen table as if nothing had happened.
Who was that? I asked, my voice low and sharp.
She froze, stared at me, bewildered. Excuse me?
That man in the carwho is he?
She sighed, a deep, weary sigh, and said, Tom, not again Hes Julies husband. He just gave me a lift, thats all. Are you serious?
I could no longer hear her words. All that reached me was a low, seething rage, a heat that burned behind my eyes, a flood of dark thoughts.
My hand rose before I could stop it. The slap cracked through the room.
She stumbled back, hand pressed to her face, a thin line of blood spilling from her nose. The silence that followed was unbearable. She stared at me, eyes wide with terror.
A knot formed in my throat. I had crossed a line I could never uncross.
She did not scream, did not weep. She simply gathered her coat and left.
The next morning a bailiff handed me the solicitors papersmy divorce. I had lost everything, even my son.
I tolerated your jealousy for years, she had said in our final conversation, her voice as cold as ice. But never the violence.
I begged her forgiveness, swearing it was a mistake, a moment of madness that would never happen again. She would hear none of it.
Then, in court, she claimed I was also violent toward our child.
A lie. A cruel lie that sealed my fate. I had never raised a hand against him, never shouted at him. Yet who would believe a man who had already struck his wife?
The judge did not hesitate. She was granted sole custody. I received only a few hours a week, a supervised visit in a neutral café. No evenings at home, no mornings making him toast.
For six months my life boiled down to those scarce moments when he ran to me, giggling, his tiny arms looping around my neck, only to be taken away again and again.
One afternoon, while he was lining up his little toy cars on the kitchen table, he looked up with innocent eyes and said, Dad, last night Mum wasnt here. There was a lady with me.
My heart stopped. A lady? What lady? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
I dont know. She comes when Mum goes out at night.
A chill ran through me. Where does she go?
He shrugged. She doesnt tell me.
My fingers clenched. I needed answers.
When the truth emerged, my throat tightened. She had hired a nannyan outsider from abroadto look after our son while she was away. While I pleaded for more time with my child, she left him in the care of a stranger.
I grabbed my phone and called her. Why is a stranger looking after our boy when Im here?
Her tone was calm, icy. Because its easier.
Easier?! My anger roared. Im his father! If he cant be with you, he should be with me!
She sighed. Thomas, Im not going to drive across the city every time I have an appointment. Stop making everything about you.
The phone trembled in my hand. What could I do? Sue her? Fight for full custody?
And if I lost again? One mistake, one lapse, and everything would be taken from me.
But my sonI would not let him slip away. I would fight, because he is the only thing I have left.
Lesson learned: jealousy is a fire that devours not only the moment it ignites but everything that surrounds it. I must keep my temper in check, lest I lose the very people I cherish.
